Astro burst into the chamber, followed by the professor. “Will he be all right?” Hemmingwell asked anxiously.
“Think nothing of it, Professor Hummingbird,” said Roger. “The old major will come around any second, and when he does, stand back. The first thing he’ll do is yell.”
“Roger, the name is Hemmingwell,” hissed Tom.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” nodded Roger, and then turned to Astro. “Is Barret still locked up?”
“Yeah,” replied the Venusian. “And I hid the key, so Connel can’t get to him until he cools off.”
“The major is coming around,” said Tom.
As they watched, Connel stirred, coughed several times, and then opened his eyes. He stared in amazement at Tom, then turned to blink unbelievingly at Roger and Astro. “What in the star-blazing—?”
“It’s us all right, sir!” Tom assured him.
“Yeah,” chimed in Roger. “And you’re not in heaven or—er—any place else either.”
As Connel suddenly flushed with anger and sat up, Hemmingwell spoke quickly. “They saved your life, Major,” he said.
“They did?” Connel’s face clouded in confusion. “I don’t understand. How did you three get aboard, anyway?”
“It’s a long story, sir,” said Tom. “Right now, maybe we’d better—”
Before the cadet could finish, there was a loud crashing and a series of jolting bumps as the ship lurched.
“What the blue blazes!” roared Connel, jumping to his feet in alarm.
“The projectiles!” exclaimed Roger. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
“By the craters of Luna!” cried Astro. “I forgot all about them!”
Tom, Roger, Astro, Hemmingwell, and Connel raced out of the air lock to their stations. Astro poured on the power without waiting for an order from the control deck and soon they were rocketing into the safety of space.
Watching the wildly flying missiles on the teleceiver screen, Connel breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wow!” he snorted. “Glad we’re out of that mess.”
“But what are we going to do about them, sir,” asked Tom, a worried frown wrinkling his forehead as he watched the screen. “We can’t just leave those things there. Some other ship may—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Connel broke in brusquely. “The projectiles will run out of fuel in a few minutes and they’ll just drift. They can be fished out any time.”
“We can go back and get them ourselves,” said the young cadet eagerly. “Roger and I can—”
“We’ve got more important things to do now!” thundered Connel. Switching on the intercom, he ordered Roger and Astro to report to the control deck. They appeared within seconds of his order and he faced the three cadets grimly.
“Well, boys,” he asked, “what’s the story?”
“I guess we’d better explain, sir,” said Tom.
“I guess you’d better,” nodded Connel.
Tom quickly ran over the chain of events, beginning with his abduction on Mars to their appearance on the ship, including the part Barret had played in tricking Roger and Astro into taking the scout. As he spoke, Connel looked more and more amazed, and when Tom finally uttered the name of the man he thought was responsible for all the sabotage, Connel jumped out of his chair.
“I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed.
“You were nearly killed a few minutes ago, sir,” said Tom. “And who sabotaged the rings? Barret! Who was around every time something happened? Who incited the crew to keep from taking this ship into space? Who spread the rumor that it was jinxed? The answer to every one of those questions, sir, is Barret. And Dave Barret is working for—”
“Let me at that sniveling space pup!” interrupted Connel, snarling his rage. “I’ll tear him apart and throw him to the buzzards!”
The enraged major jumped to the hatch but Astro and Tom barred his way, with Roger stepping quickly in back of him, a heavy wrench in his hand, ready to assist in any manner necessary to subdue the howling officer.
“Try to kill me!” Connel howled. “Why, I’ll—I’ll—”
“No, Major!” shouted Tom. “He’s the only one that can help us convict Carter Devers!”
Connel stopped. He stared at Astro’s bulk and then turned to see Roger trying to hide the wrench. “Were you going to hit me with that thing, Manning?” he growled.
Roger gulped. “Yes, sir,” he said. “If it was necessary to keep you away from Barret, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
Connel spun back to face Tom. “Corbett, you must have a plan,” he said. “Let’s have it quick.”
Tom grinned. “All right, sir,” he began. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Professor Hemmingwell slump to the deck.
Hurriedly they picked up the old man and eased him gently to the nearby acceleration couch. After gulping some water that Roger poured for him, the old man smiled weakly. “I’m afraid I don’t have the strength to withstand all this excitement,” he said. “But now I understand why things were never easy for me. Carter Devers—he did this to me. He blocked the proposals every time that they were submitted to the Solar delegations. He—” Hemmingwell’s head fell back. Roger had put a sedative into the water and the old man was now unconscious.
“It’s just fatigue,” said Connel. “He’ll be all right in a little while.” He turned to Tom. “All right, Corbett, carry on!”
Tom hurriedly concluded his story of the events leading up to their startling appearance on the ship, and as he spoke, he saw the major’s frown change to a glowing grin. When Tom finished, Connel suddenly extended his hand in a gesture of friendship.
“I have to admit it, Corbett,” he said. “You’ve done a good job. And,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “by going along with you, I am an accomplice with Captain Strong in the aiding of three fugitives from the Solar Guard.”
Tom, Astro, and Roger grinned. “Now, let’s get Barret up here and ask him a few questions,” continued Connel. “And, Manning, if I can’t restrain myself, you have my permission to hit me with that wrench! But so help me, if you belt me before the time comes, I’ll bend that wrench over your skull!”
While Astro and Roger went below to get Barret, Connel and Tom reviewed their plan.
“Better keep the news quiet for a while,” said Connel. “If we telecast it back to the Academy, Devers might get wise.”
“Good idea, sir,” acknowledged Tom.
“But I can’t understand Devers’ motive,” said Connel. “What does he stand to gain if this project is a failure?”
“He’ll lose plenty if it’s a success,” Tom asserted.
“Devers owns Jilolo Spaceways, the parent company of Universal Jet Trucking and Surface Transportation! If the projectiles worked, surface cargo delivery would be wiped out.”
Before Connel could comment on Tom’s startling revelation, they heard the sound of angry voices just outside the control-deck hatch.
“That must be Astro and Roger bringing in Barret,” said Tom with a grin.
The hatch clanked open and Astro appeared, carrying Roger under one arm and Barret under the other. He dropped them both unceremoniously on the deck, but when they jumped to their feet, Roger charged forward quickly and landed a stinging right to Barret’s jaw. The man dropped to the deck again like a stone.
“Manning!” roared Connel. “What was the idea?”
“I wanted to make sure I got in my licks before the Solar Guard got hold of him,” replied Roger, rubbing his knuckles and looking down at Barret’s inert form.
Astro grinned sheepishly. “I tried to stop him, sir!” he said.
“I’ll just bet you tried to stop him!” bellowed Connel. “Cadet Manning, you put that man to sleep, now you wake him up!”
“Yes, sir!” said Roger, and while Connel, Astro, and Tom roared with laughter, he poured an entire bottle of water on Barret’s face.
CHAPTER 19
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab
out!”
Shouting angrily, Barret sat in one of the pilot’s chairs, flanked by Roger and Astro, while Connel and Tom stood in front of him firing questions.
“Barret,” said Connel, “I have enough evidence on you now to send you to a prison asteroid for ten years at least!”
“On what charge?” demanded the young man.
“Trying to kill an officer of the Solar Guard.”
“Where is your proof?” demanded Barret.
“Right there!” snorted Major Connel, pointing to the sleeping figure of Professor Hemmingwell.
“What do you mean?” demanded Barret.
“He’ll swear that you deliberately sent this ship into full drive while I was out on the hull checking the rings.”
“He can’t,” protested Barret. “He was on the bridge! He couldn’t have seen a thing!”
Tom shook his head gently. “Barret, after what you’ve done to his ship and the projectile operation,” he said, “Hemmingwell will swear to anything.”
“It’s a frame-up!” shouted Barret.
“And what do you think you did to us?” snarled Roger.
Barret flushed and turned away. “You can’t scare me,” he muttered. “Go ahead. Let him swear to whatever he wants.”
Connel stepped back grimly and turned to Astro and Roger. “All right, boys,” he said. “Take him below and see if you can’t get some different answers out of him.” The hardened spaceman turned his back and walked to the viewport.
“Why, you dirty space rat!” screamed Barret. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, wouldn’t he!” retorted Roger. “Listen, pal, he figures we owe you plenty for what you did to us, and he’s just giving us a chance to pay you back!” He faced Barret grimly. “Mister, you’re going to get the works! Come on, Astro!”
As the giant Venusian advanced on Barret, the man shrank back in his chair, eyes widening in sudden fear. When Astro stretched out his huge hand and grabbed him by the front of his jacket, he screamed in fright.
“All right, all right!” he cried out. “I’ll talk! Devers did it! He made me do it! He’s responsible for the whole thing!”
“Turn on that audiograph, Corbett!” shouted Connel.
Tom snapped on the machine and brought the microphone over to Barret, holding it in front of his trembling mouth.
“All right, talk!” Connel growled. “And tell it all.”
Barret had hardly uttered the first stumbling words when Roger let out a shout of alarm. “Hey! The scanner!” he cried.
They all turned to the teleceiver screen. To their horror, they saw a menacing shape blasting toward them. They recognized it instantly—a space torpedo!
Astro dove through the power-deck hatch while Roger raced for the radar-bridge ladder. Tom hurled himself into the copilot’s chair, and with Connel beside him in the command position, he waited for Astro to supply power. Suddenly the ship trembled violently and then shot forward as, far below, the jet exhausts screamed under the full thrust of all the atomic reactors. Tom rode the controls hard and kept his eye on the scanner screen.
“It’s a magnetic gyrofish!” he cried as he saw the torpedo curve after them. “Roger, can you plot her for me?”
“Working on it now, Tom!” yelled Roger over the intercom.
“How in blazes did that thing get out here?” muttered Connel.
“We’ll have to worry about that later, I’m afraid, sir,” replied Tom. “We’re going to have our hands full getting away from her. With that magnetic warhead, she’ll follow us all over space unless we can throw her off.”
“Which will take some doing!” grunted Connel, frowning in deep concern.
“Hey, Tom!” Roger’s voice called over the intercom. “It’s blasting on maximum thrust now. We have a pretty good chance. Use that idea we worked out. Make a series of left turns and always on the up-plane of the ecliptic!”
“Right!” said Tom, clutching the master manual-control lever and beginning to fly the giant ship through space by “feel.”
“What in blazes are you doing, Corbett?” shouted Connel in sudden alarm.
“Just hang on and watch, sir,” replied Tom, keeping his eyes on the scanner where he could see the space torpedo trailing them. Over and over, Tom kept slamming the ship into sharp left turns, while the torpedo followed in an ever-narrowing circle.
“All right, Tom!” yelled Roger again. “Give it the same thing on the right and the down-plane of the ecliptic!”
“Check!” answered Tom, reversing his controls and sending the ship corkscrewing through space on an opposite course.
Connel grabbed the arms of his chair and gasped, “You kids are space happy!”
“Those gyros are so perfect, sir,” said Tom, working the controls quickly and smoothly, “that the only way you can throw them off balance is to confuse them.”
“Confuse them!” exclaimed Connel.
“Yes, sir,” said Tom. “It’s a theory Roger and I worked out together. No gyro is perfect, and if you can get it bouncing back and forth in extreme turns, it will be thrown out of balance. Then all we have to do is make the torpedo miss once and it won’t come back.”
“Heaven help us all!” was Connel’s groaning reply.
“On the ball, Tom!” cried Roger. “She’s closing in on us!”
“I see her,” replied Tom calmly. “Hang on, everybody. I’m going to turn this ship inside out!”
Jerking the controls, Tom threw the ship into a mad, whirling spin, subjecting the vessel to the most severe strain tests it would ever undergo. The hull groaned and creaked, and badly fitted equipment tore loose and clattered across the deck. Suddenly the young cadet leveled the ship.
“Nose braking rockets, Astro!” he called.
“Braking rockets, aye!” acknowledged the Venusian over the intercom.
On the power deck, Astro jammed the forward drive closed and slammed open the nose rockets. The ship trembled, bucked, and finally came to a shuddering stop before it started a reverse course, accelerating quickly.
“Here it comes!” yelled Roger.
As Connel and Tom watched tensely, the space torpedo loomed large and menacing on the scanner, and then, as they held their breaths, it whistled past the silvery hull of the ship, with less than two feet to spare!
Sighing deeply, Tom brought the ship back to level flight. “We’re O.K. now, sir,” he said. “Her gyros are out. She won’t come back.”
“By the craters of Luna!” Connel suddenly exploded. “The Solar Guard spends a fortune to develop a foolproof space torpedo and two hot-shot cadets come along and get away from the blasted thing! Why haven’t you told this to anyone before?”
“Why—er—” stammered Tom, “we’ve never had the chance to prove it, sir.”
Behind them, the power-deck hatch suddenly opened and Astro stepped in. “Nice work, Tom!” he called.
“And as for you, you Venusian ape,” roared Connel, “don’t you realize that you can blow a reactor tube by throwing so much power into a ship without energizing the cooling pumps first?”
Astro smiled. “Not if you open the by-pass, sir,” he said, “and feed directly off the pump reservoir. The gas cools the tube and at the same time expands itself and adds to the power thrust.”
At Astro’s easy reply Connel could only stand openmouthed in amazement. Again, one of the three cadets of the Polaris unit had developed a revolutionary procedure that even top rocket scientists would be proud to call their own.
Winking at Tom, Astro turned away and suddenly noticed Barret sprawled on the deck, unconscious.
“What happened to him?” asked the big Venusian.
“Oh, I forgot all about him,” said Tom. “Guess he didn’t get into an acceleration chair in time. Better get some more water.”
“We haven’t time for him now!” snapped Connel. “Strap him in good and tight. We’ve got to find out where that torpedo came from.”
As though in answer to the major
’s order, there was a sudden call over the ship’s intercom.
“Radar bridge to control deck, check in!” There was a note of alarm in Roger’s voice.
Tom jumped to the control panel to reply.
“Control deck, aye!” he snapped into the microphone.
“There’s a spaceship to starboard!” called Roger. “Distance twenty miles, fifteen degrees up on the plane of the ecliptic. And I swear she’s maneuvering to fire another torpedo!”
“Stand by action stations!” roared Connel, diving into his chair before the control panel. Tom strapped in next to him, while Astro made a headlong dash for the power deck.
“Yes!” shouted Roger. “She’s fired a torpedo!”
“Raise her! Raise her!” bellowed Connel. “Tell them who we are!” He turned to Tom. “Go into your act, Corbett,” he said, “and make it good!”
As Tom manipulated the controls again, the silver ship plunged through space, turning and gyrating in the same series of maneuvers it had performed to escape the first torpedo. But this time the distance separating them was not as great and the torpedo closed in quickly.
“Can’t you raise that ship yet, Manning?” Connel roared into the intercom.
“I just have, sir,” replied Roger in a strained voice. “But it’s—”
“Let me talk to that lame brain of a skipper,” interrupted Connel. “By the stars, I’ll teach him to—”
“It’s no use, Connel,” said a gruff voice over the control-deck loud-speaker. “Even if you duck this torpedo, I’ve got ten more!”
“Who is this?” roared Connel.
“Don’t you know, Connel? Why, I’m surprised!”
The teleceiver screen glowed into life and Tom and Connel stared in horror as they recognized the images of three men. The one in the foreground smiled mockingly and said, “Remember me, Connel?”
“Devers!” Connel roared.
“And the other two behind him—” stuttered Tom. “Cag and Monty!”
“Why, you dirty space crawler,” cried Connel, “I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I do!”
The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack: 10 Classic Young Adult Sci-Fi Novels Page 114
