"Thanks, Steve," he said softly. "I was hoping you'd say that. Keep me posted."
The screen blacked out abruptly and Captain Strong turned to Joan Dale, a troubled frown wrinkling his brow.
"Huh. I really walked into that one, didn't I?" he muttered.
"It isn't going to be easy, Steve," she replied.
"Easy!" He snorted and walked over to the window to stare blankly at the quadrangle below. "I'd almost rather try a landing on the hot side of Mercury. It would be icy compared to this situation!"
"You can do it, Steve. I know you can." Joan moved to his side to place a reassuring hand on his arm.
The Solar Guard officer didn't answer immediately. He kept on staring at the Academy grounds and buildings spread out before him. When he finally spoke, his voice rang with determination.
"I've got to do it, Joan. I've got to whip those boys into a unit. Not only for their sakes—but for the sake of the Academy!"
CHAPTER 4
The first three weeks of an Earthworm's life at Space Academy are filled with never-ending physical training and conditioning to meet the rigors of rocket flight and life on distant planets. And under the grueling pressure of fourteen-hour days, filled with backbreaking exercises and long forced marches, very few of the boys can find anything more desirable than sleep—and more sleep.
Under this pressure the friction in Unit 42-D became greater and greater. Roger and Astro continually needled each other with insults, and Tom gradually slipped into the role of arbiter.
Returning from a difficult afternoon of endless marching in the hot sun with the prospect of an evening of free-fall wrestling before them, the three cadets dragged themselves wearily onto the slidestairs leading to their quarters, their muscles screaming for rest.
"Another day like this," began Astro listlessly, "and I'm going to melt down to nothing. Doesn't McKenny have a heart?"
"No, just an asteroid," Tom grumbled. "He'll never know how close he came to getting a space boot in the face when he woke us up this morning. Oh, man! Was I tired!"
"Stop complaining, will you?" snarled Roger. "All I've heard from you two space crawlers is gripes and complaints."
"If I wasn't so tired, Roger," said Astro, "I'd give you something to gripe about. A flat lip!"
"Knock it off, Astro," said Tom wearily. The role of keeping them apart was getting tiresome.
"The trouble with you, Astro," pursued Roger, "is that you think with your muscles instead of your head."
"Yeah, I know. And you've got an electronic calculator for a brain. All you have to do is push a button and you get the answers all laid out for you."
They had reached their quarters now and were stripping off their sweat-soaked uniforms in preparation for a cool shower.
"You know, Roger," continued Astro, "you've got a real problem ahead of you."
"Any problem you think I have is no problem at all," was the cool reply.
"Yes, it is," insisted Astro. "When you're ready for your first hop in space, you won't be able to make it!"
"Why not?"
"They don't have a space helmet in the Academy large enough to fit that overinflated head of yours!"
Roger turned slowly and spoke to Tom without looking at him. "Close the door, Corbett!"
"Why?" asked Tom, puzzled.
"Because I don't want any interruptions. I'm going to take that big hunk of Venusian space junk apart."
"Anything you say, you bigmouthed squirt!" roared Astro.
"Hey—knock it off!" yelled Tom, jumping between them and grabbing Astro's arm. "If you guys don't lay off each other, you're going to be thrown out of the Academy, and I'll be thrown out with you! I'll be blasted if I'll suffer for your mistakes!"
"That's a very interesting statement, Corbett!" A deep voice purred from the doorway and the three boys whirled to see Captain Strong walk into the room, his black and gold uniform fitting snugly across the shoulders betraying their latent strength. "Stand to—all of you!"
As the boys quickly snapped to attention, Strong eyed them slowly and then moved casually around the room. He picked up a book, looked out of the window port, pushed a boot to one side and, finally, removed Tom's sweat-stained uniform from a chair and sat down. The cadets held their rigid poses, backs stiff, eyes looking straight ahead.
"Corbett?" snapped Strong.
"Yes, sir?"
"What was the meaning of that little speech I heard a moment ago?"
"I—ah—don't quite understand what you mean, sir," stumbled Tom.
"I think you do," said Strong. "I want to know what provoked you to make such a statement."
"I'd rather not answer that, sir."
"Don't get cute, Corbett!" barked Strong. "I know what's going on in this unit. Were Manning and Astro squaring off to fight?"
"Yes, sir," replied Tom slowly.
"All right. At ease all of you," said Strong. The three boys relaxed and faced the officer.
"Manning, do you want to be a successful cadet here at Space Academy?"
"Yes, sir," answered Roger.
"Then why don't you act like it?" asked Strong.
"Is there something wrong with my work, sir?" Tom recognized the smooth Manning confidence begin to appear, and he wondered if Captain Strong would be taken in.
"Everything's wrong with your work," barked Strong. "You're too smart! Know too much!" He stopped short and then added softly with biting sarcasm, "Why do you know so much, Cadet Manning?"
Roger hesitated. "I've studied very hard. Studied for years to become a Space Cadet," he replied.
"Just to be a cadet or a successful cadet and a Solar Guard officer?"
"To be successful at both, sir."
"Tell me, Manning, do you have any ideas on life?"
"That's a pretty general question, sir. Do you mean life as a whole or a specific part of life?" They're fencing with each other, thought Tom. He held his breath as Strong eyed the relaxed, confident cadet.
"A spaceman is supposed to have but one idea in life, Manning. And that idea is space!"
"I see, sir," replied Roger, as a faraway look came into his eyes.
"Yes, sir, I have some ideas about life in space."
"I'd like to hear them!" requested Strong coldly.
"Very well, sir." Roger relaxed his shoulders and leaned against the bunk. "I believe space is the last frontier of man—Earthman. It's the last place for man to conquer. It is the greatest adventure of all time and I want to be a part of that adventure."
"Thank you, Manning." Strong's voice was even colder than before. "But as it happens, I can read too. That was a direct quote from the closing paragraph of Jon Builker's book on his trip to the stars!" He paused. "Couldn't you think of anything original to say?"
Roger flushed and gritted his teeth. Tom could hardly keep himself from laughing. Captain Strong had scored heavily!
The Solar Guard officer then turned his attention to Astro.
"Astro, where in the name of the universe did you get the idea you could be an officer in the Solar Guard?"
"I can handle anything with push in it, sir!" Astro smiled his confidence.
"Know anything about hyperdrive?"
"Uhh—no, sir."
"Then you can't handle everything with, as you say, push in it!" snapped Strong.
"Er—no, sir," answered Astro, his face clouding over.
There was a long moment of silence while Strong lifted one knee, swung it over the arm of his chair, and looked steadily at the two half-naked boys in front of him. He smiled lazily.
"Well, for two Earthworms, you've certainly been acting like a couple of space aces!"
He let that soak in while he toyed with the gleaming Academy ring on his finger. He allowed it to flash in the light of the window port, then slipped it off and flipped it over to Corbett.
"Know what that is?" he asked the curly-haired cadet.
"Yes, sir," replied Tom. "Your Academy graduation ring."
"
Uh-huh. Now give it to our friend from Venus." Tom gingerly handed Astro the ring.
"Try it on, Astro," invited Strong.
The big cadet tried it on all of his fingers but couldn't get it past the first joint.
"Give it to Manning."
Roger accepted the ring and held it in the palm of his hand. He looked at it with a hard stare, then dropped it in the outstretched hand of the Solar Guard officer. Replacing it on his finger, Strong spoke casually.
"All units design their own rings. There are only three like this in the universe. One is drifting around in space on the finger of Sam Jones. Another is blasting a trail to the stars on the finger of Addy Garcia." He held up his finger. "This is the third one."
Strong got up and began to pace in front of the boys.
"Addy Garcia couldn't speak a word of English when he first came to the Academy. And for eight weeks Sam and I sweated to figure out what he was talking about. I think we spent over a hundred hours in the galley doing KP because Addy kept getting us fouled up. But that didn't bother us because we were a unit. Unit 33-V. Class of 2338."
Strong turned to face the silent cadets.
"Sam Jones was pretty much like you, Astro. Not as big, but with the same love for that power deck. He could always squeeze a few extra pounds of thrust out of those rockets. What he knew about astrogation and control, you could stick on the head of a pin. On long flights he wouldn't even come up to the control deck. He just sat in the power hole singing loud corny songs about the Arkansas mountains to those atomic motors. He was a real power-deck man. But he was a unit man first! The only reason I'm here to tell you about it is because he never forgot the unit. He died saving Addy and myself."
The room was still. Down the long hall, the lively chatter of other cadets could be heard as they showered and prepared for dinner. In the distance, the rumble of the slidewalks and test firing of rockets at the spaceport was dim, subdued, powerful.
"The unit is the backbone of the Academy," continued Strong. "It was set up to develop three men to handle a Solar Guard rocket cruiser. Three men who could be taught to think, feel and act as one intelligent brain. Three men who would respect each other and who could depend on each other. Tomorrow you begin your real education. You will be supervised and instructed personally.
"Many men have contributed to the knowledge that will be placed in front of you—brave, intelligent men, who blasted through the atmosphere with a piece of metal under them for a spaceship and a fire in their tail for rockets. But everything they accomplished goes to waste if the unit can't become a single personality. It must be a single personality, or it doesn't exist. The unit is the ultimate of hundreds of years of research and progress. But you have to fight to create it and keep it living. Either you want it, or you get out of the Academy!"
Captain Strong turned away momentarily and Tom and Astro looked at Roger significantly.
"Stand to!"
The three boys snapped to attention as the wide-shouldered captain addressed them again.
"Tomorrow you begin to learn how to think as a single brain. To act with combined intelligence as one person. You either make up your minds to start tomorrow or you report to Commander Walters and resign. There isn't any room here for individuals."
He stepped to the door and paused.
"One more thing. I've been given the job of making you over into spacemen. I'm your unit commander. If you're still here in the morning, I'll accept that as your answer. If you think you can't take"—he paused—"what I'm going to dish out, then you know what you can do. And if you stay, you'll be the best unit, or I'll break you in two in the attempt. Unit dis… missed!" And he was gone.
The three cadets stood still, not knowing quite what to do or say. Finally Tom stepped before Astro and Roger.
"Well," he said quietly, "how about it, you guys? Are you going to lay off each other now?"
Astro flushed, but Roger eyed Corbett coolly.
"Were you really taken in with that space gas, Tom?" He turned to the shower room. "If you were, then you're more childish than I thought."
"A man died to save another man's life, Roger. Sam Jones. I never knew him. But I've met Captain Strong, and I believe that he would have done the same thing for Jones."
"Very noble," commented Roger from the doorway.
"But I'll tell you this, Manning," said Tom, following him, fighting for self-control, "I wouldn't want to have to depend on you to save my life. And I wouldn't want to be faced with the situation where I would have to sacrifice mine to save yours!"
Roger turned and glared at Tom.
"The Academy regs say that the man on the control deck is the boss of the unit. But I have my private opinion of the man who has that job now!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Tom.
"Just this, spaceboy. There's a gym below where I'll take you or your big friend on—together—or one at a time." He paused, a cold smile twisting his lips. "And that offer is good as of right now!"
Tom and Astro looked at each other.
"I'm afraid," began Astro slowly, "that you wouldn't stand much of a chance with me, Manning. So if Tom wants the chore of buttoning your lip, he's welcome to it."
"Thanks, Astro," said Tom evenly. "It'll be my pleasure."
Without another word, the three cadets walked out of the door.
CHAPTER 5
"Will this do, Manning?" asked Tom.
The three boys were in a secluded corner of the gym, a large hall on the fourteenth floor of the dormitory building. At the far end of the gym, a group of cadets had just finished a game of mercuryball and were sauntering to the showers. When the last boy had disappeared, the floor was deserted except for Tom, Roger and Astro.
"This will do fine, Corbett," said Roger.
The boxing ring had been taken down the week before to make room for drills and the physical exercises of the Earthworms, so the three boys had to improvise a ring. They dragged four large tumbling mats together, spreading them side by side to form a square close to the size of an actual ring. Astro went to one of the small lockers under the balcony and returned with two pairs of boxing gloves.
"Here," offered Astro, "put these on."
"Gloves?" asked Roger, in a voice of mock surprise. "I thought this was going to be a battle of blood."
"Any way you want it, Manning. Any way at all," said Tom.
"You're going to use gloves," growled Astro. "I don't want anybody killed." He threw a pair at each of them.
"There'll be three-minute rounds, with one minute rest," he continued. "Go off the mats and you'll be counted out. Usual rules otherwise. Any questions?"
"Clear to me, Astro," said Tom.
"Let's go," nodded Roger.
"One more thing," said Astro. "I hope Tom pins your ears back, Manning. But I'm going to see that both of you get a fair deal. So keep the punches up—and fight it out. All right—time!"
The two boys moved carefully to the center of the improvised ring, their guards up, while Astro stood off the edge of the mat and watched the sweeping second hand of his wrist chronograph.
Shuffling forward Tom pushed out a probing left and then tried to cross his right, but Manning stepped back easily, countering with a hard left to Tom's heart.
"I forgot to tell you, Corbett," he called out, "I'm considered a counterpuncher. I always—"
He was cut off with a sharp left to the face that snapped his head back, and his lips curled in a smile of condescension.
"Good—very good, Corbett."
Then with lightning speed and the grace of a cat, Roger slipped inside Tom's guard, punching hard and true. A left, a right and a left pounded into Tom's mid-section, and as he gave way momentarily Tom's face clouded over.
They circled. Tom kept leading with sharp lefts that popped in and out like a piston, always connecting and keeping Roger off balance. Roger concentrated on penetrating Tom's defense, methodically pounding his ribs and heart and trying to wear him down.
"Time!" bawled Astro.
The two boys dropped their hands and turned back to their corners. They squatted on the floor breathing slowly and easily. Astro stood in the middle of the ring, glaring at both of them in turn and shaking his head.
"Huh. I expected to see you two try to wallop each other into meteor dust! Keep fighting like that and we'll be here all night!"
"Talk to Corbett," sneered Roger. "Looks like he's afraid to mix it up!"
"You fight your way, Roger, and I'll fight mine," replied Tom, his voice cold and impersonal.
"Time!" suddenly yelled Astro and stepped back off the mat.
The two cadets jumped to their feet and met in the center of the ring again. With a bull-like rush, Roger changed tactics and began to rain punches all over Tom's body, but the curly-haired cadet stood his ground coolly, picking some off in mid-air with his gloves and sliding under the others. Then, as Roger slowed down, Tom took the offensive, popping his left into his opponent's face steadily and methodically, while keeping his right cocked for a clear opening to the chin.
Roger danced in and out, watching Tom's left as though it was a snake and trying unsuccessfully to get through his guard. But the sharp lefts kept snapping his head back and his face began to redden, not only from the sting of the blows but with the mounting fury of his frustration.
Suddenly, as Astro raised his arm to call time for the end of the round, Roger jumped forward and rained another series of harmless blows on Tom's shoulders and arms. But then, as the big Venusian called time, he stepped back and Tom dropped his guard. Instantly, Roger threw a right with all his weight behind it. It landed flush on Tom's jaw and he dropped, sprawling full length on the mats and lying still.
Smiling, Roger sauntered to his corner while Astro charged in and bent over the fallen cadet.
"None of that, Astro!" snapped Roger. "Since when does a referee take sides? Leave him alone! If he doesn't come out for the next round, you have to count him out!"
The big Venusian straightened and walked menacingly toward Roger's corner. "You hit him after I called time," he growled.
"So I have to take you on too, huh?" Roger jumped to his feet. "All right—come on, you big blast of space gas!"
Tom Corbett Space Cadet Page 4