Danger in Deep Space

by Carey Rockwell

  CHAPTER 15

  "Well, I'll be a star-gazing lunatic!" exclaimed Roger a few minuteslater. "You really think that you can blast this satellite out of itsorbit?"

  "Not only that, Manning," said Connel with a smile, "but I might be ableto get it back to our sun faster than we could get back ourselves."

  "Why that would be the biggest project ever attempted by man, sir," saidTom. "You'd be transporting an entire satellite from one star system toanother!"

  "That's right, Corbett," said Connel. "I've just finished talking toSpace Academy and they've given me permission to do anything I thinknecessary to accomplish just that. Now pay close attention to me, all ofyou. We haven't much time."

  Tom, Roger, Astro, Alfie, and Mr. Shinny gathered in a close circlearound the major on the control deck of the _Polaris_ and watched him ashe drew several rough diagrams on a piece of paper.

  "Getting the satellite back is the trickiest part of the wholeoperation. Astro, are you sure you made a correct estimate on the amountof reactant fuel in the _Space Devil_?"

  "Yes, sir," replied Astro. "I checked it four times, and Mr. Shinnychecked it, too!"

  "All right, then, listen," said Connel. "I've given the satellite aname. From now on we call it Junior. And this will be known as Junior'sPitch! I've explained how Junior is a captive satellite revolving aroundTara, the same way our Moon revolves around Earth. We have two problems.One is to blast it out of Tara's grip. And the other is to takeadvantage of Tara's orbital speed around its sun Alpha Centauri, _and_Junior's orbital speed around Tara. We've got to combine the velocitiesof the orbits, so that when we do spring Junior loose, he'll gain inspeed!"

  "But how do we get the orbital speeds to help us, Major?" asked Alfie.His glasses had slipped to the very end of his nose.

  "If you'd give the major a chance, he'd tell you, Big Brain," drawledRoger. Alfie gave Roger a withering look and turned back to the major.

  "Do you remember when you were kids and tied a rock on the end of a ropeand then swung it around your head?" asked Connel.

  "Sure, sorta like a slingshot," said Astro.

  "That's right, Astro," said Connel, "and if you released the rope, therock would fly in the direction it was headed, _when you let go_!"

  "I get it," cried Tom excitedly. "The gravity of Tara is the ropeholding Junior--ah"--he fumbled--"making it swing around!"

  "And the reactant power of the _Space Devil_ placed in the right spotwould be the trigger to make it let go!" commented Roger.

  "It's as simple as that, boys!" said Connel with a smile.

  "But how in the blazing beams of the sun are you going to _stop_ thatblasted thing when you get it rolling?" asked Shinny.

  "The chances of Junior hitting anything on the way home are so small itdoesn't present a problem. So we just aim Junior for our solar system!Later on, arrangements can be made to steer it into an orbit around oursun."

  "You know," wheezed Shinny, his merry eyes twinkling, "that soundspretty neat!"

  "It is," replied Connel. He leaned against the control-board desk topand folded his arms across his massive chest. He looked at each of thecadets and Shinny a long time before speaking. Finally he steppedforward and stood among them, turning now and then to speak directly toeach of them.

  "We have only four days, five hours, and some few minutes to pull Juniorout of Tara's grip, and later, the grip of Alpha Centauri. You boys willhave to work as you've never worked before. You'll do things you neverdreamed you could do. You'll work until your brains ache and your bodiesscream. But when you're finished, you will have accomplished one ofman's greatest challenges. You're going to do all this because I knowyou can--and I'm going to see that you do! Is that clear?"

  There was a barely audible "Yes, sir" from the cadets.

  "The six of us, working together, are going to send a hunk of copperfifteen miles in diameter hurtling through twenty-three million millionmiles of space, so let's get that ball rolling. _Right now!_"

  With Major Connel roaring, pleading, and blasting, four young cadets anda derelict spaceman began the monumental task of assembling the mass ofinformation necessary for the satellite's big push through space. Duringthe three days that their project had been under way, Tom, Roger,Astro, Alfie, and Mr. Shinny worked, as Major Connel promised, as theyhad never worked before.

  Late in the afternoon of the third day Connel stepped through the hatchof the control deck where Tom was busy over a table of ratios forbalancing the amount of thrust from each of the reactant-power units.The power units were to give Junior its initial thrust out of thegravity of Tara.

  "Well, Corbett," asked Connel, "how're you making out with the ratios?"

  "I've finished them, sir," replied Tom, looking up at the major. Hisface was drawn, his eyes red from lack of sleep. "But I just can't seemto get a time for escaping the orbit on a true tangent."

  "Have you tried making an adjustment for the overall pull of bothcomponents?" asked Connel. "That of Tara and of Alpha Centauri onJunior?" He picked up the paper Tom had been working on and glanced overthe figures.

  "Yes, sir," replied Tom, "but I still can't seem to make it come outright!"

  "You'll get it, Tom," said Connel. "Go over it again. But remember.Time's running out. Just one day and about twenty hours left." Connel'svoice was friendly--more friendly than at any time Tom could remember.He smiled, and taking a fresh sheet of paper, he began the complicatedcalculations of escape time all over again.

  Connel slipped out of the control room and went below to the power deck,where Astro and Mr. Shinny had been working without sleep for over fiftyhours. When Connel slipped into the room he found the two men puzzlingover a drawing board.

  "What seems to be the trouble, Astro?" asked Connel.

  Astro turned, startled. "We've tried building that lead baffle for thereactant units five times now, sir," said Astro. "We're having a hardtime getting the correct amount of reactant power we need in a unit thissmall."

  "Maybe you're trying to make it _too_ small, Astro," commented Connel,looking over the drawing. "Remember, this unit has but one job. To_start_ the reaction. When the reaction fuel gets hot enough, it'llstart a reaction of the copper on Junior and sustain itself. Try asmaller amount of the reactant. But whatever you do, keep working. Onlya day and a few hours left."

  Connel looked at Shinny. "Keep him working, Mr. Shinny," he ordered. "Iknow he can do it. Just keep him going."

  Shinny grinned and nodded.

  "I'll try, sir," said Astro, shaking his head, "but I won't guaranteeit--"

  Connel cut him off with a roar. "Cadet Astro, I don't want yourguarantee! _I want that unit. Now build it!_"

  Hour after hour the cadets racked their brains for what seemed likeimpossible answers to an impossible task. Working until their eyesclosed fast shut, they would lie down right where they were--power deck,control deck, or radar bridge--and sleep. They would awake, stillgroggy, drink hot tea, eat cold sandwiches, and continue their strugglewith time and astrophysics.

  One by one, the problems were solved and set aside for newer ones thatarose on the way. Each cadet worked in his particular field, and all oftheir information was assembled and co-ordinated by Major Connel. Morethan once, Connel had found the clever minds of his cadets reaching foranswers to questions he knew would have troubled the professors back atSpace Academy. Connel, his eye on the clock, his sharp tongue lashingout when he thought he detected unclear thinking, raced from onedepartment to another while the incessant work continued. On the morningof the fourth day he walked into the radar bridge where Roger and Alfiehad been working steadily for seventy-two hours on an electronic fuse totrigger the reactant units.

  "There you are, skipper," said Roger. "The fuse is all yours. Deliveredtwelve hours ahead of time!"

  "Good work, Roger. You too, Alfie. Excellent!" said Connel, his eyesappraising the fuse.

  "Ah, that's nothing, skipper," said Roger with a smile. "Anyone couldhave done it with Alfie here to help. He's g
ot a brain like acalculator!"

  "Now, I want to see how smart you two really are!" said Connel.

  "Huh?" asked Roger stupidly. Alfie had slumped to the deck, holding hishead in his hands.

  "I want a communications unit," said Connel, "that can send out aconstant beam, a signal Space Academy can pick up to follow Junior intransit back to Earth."

  "In twelve hours?" exploded Roger. "Impossible, skipper!"

  "_Cadet Manning_," roared Connel, "I don't want your _opinion_, I askedfor that _unit_!"

  "But one day, sir," said Roger. "Not even a day. Twelve hours. I can't,sir. I'm sorry. I'm so tired I can't see straight."

  Alfie let out a low moan.

  Connel studied the two cadets. He was aware that he had already askedthem to do the impossible, and they had done it. And they deserved to belet alone. But Major Connel wasn't himself unless he had given everyounce of energy he had left, or the energy left in those around him. Hepatted Roger on the shoulder and spoke softly.

  "Roger, did I ever tell you that I think you have one of the finestbrains for electronics I've ever seen? And that Alfie is sure to have abrilliant future in astrophysics?"

  Roger stammered. "Why--ah--thank you, sir--"

  Alfie looked up at Connel and then struggled to his feet.

  "You know, Roger," he said haltingly, "if we took that unit we came outhere to test--you know, the transmitter unit--"

  Roger cut him off. "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. We couldborrow some of the reaction mass that Astro got out of the _SpaceDevil_ and use that as a power source."

  Connel backed away from the two cadets and tiptoed off the bridge. Hesmiled to himself. He was going to win his race with time yet! And hewas going to do it because he had learned long before that you couldonly push a man so far, then you had to sit down, pat him on the back,tell him how smart he was, and he would push himself. Connel almostlaughed out loud.

  Six hours later Connel sat in his quarters puzzling over one of the manyminor problems of Junior's Pitch when he heard footsteps behind him. Heturned. Astro, Tom, Roger, Alfie, and Shinny walked silently into theroom. Connel stared.

  "Wha--what is it?" he demanded.

  "We're finished, sir," said Tom simply.

  "Finished?" exploded Connel. "You mean--"

  "That's what he means, skipper," said Shinny. His eyes were bloodshotfor want of sleep, but there was a merry twinkle left tugging at thecorners.

  "Everything?" asked Connel.

  "Everything, sir," said Roger. "The power units are built and the fusesinstalled. All it needs is to be set. Tom's worked out the ratios andthe amount of reactant fuel needed in each unit for escape tangent. Theescape time, combining orbital speeds of Tara and Junior, are completed,and we have six hours and fifty-five minutes before blast-off!" Heturned and rumpled Alfie's hair. "Alfie and I have completed thecommunications unit and have tested it. Junior is ready to get his bigkick in the pants!"

  Connel stood up. He was speechless. It was almost too much to believe.

  "_Get below_," he roared, "and go to sleep! If I catch one of you awakein five minutes, I'll log you fifty demerits!"

  The tired workers grinned back at their commander.

  "I'll get everything set," said Connel, "and wake you up an hour beforewe have to get things ready. Now _hit the sack!_"

  Their grins spreading even wider on their haggard faces, they turnedaway. Connel stepped to the desk on the control deck and wrote acrossthe face of the logbook page.

  "... October 2nd, 2353. Space Cadets Corbett, Manning, Astro, andHiggins and ex-enlisted spaceman Nicholas Shinny completed this day allpreparation for operation Junior's Pitch. By authority vested in me asSenior Officer, Solar Guard, I hereby recommend official commendationof "_well done_" to the above-mentioned spacemen, and that all honorspursuant to that commendation be officially bestowed on them. Signed,Connel, Major, SO--SG ..."

  He closed the book and wiped the corners of his eyes with the back ofhis hand.