Tom Corbett Space Cadet

by Carey Rockwell

  Tom spoke up. "I think you'd better go, Captain."

  "I've got six men outside," sneered the other. "I'll go when I'm ready."

  "You're ready now," spoke up Astro. He stood up to his full height. "We don't want any trouble," the cadet from Venus said, "but we're not braking our jets to get away from it, either."

  James took a good look at Astro's powerful frame. Without another word he walked away.

  Tom shook his head. "That pal of yours is a real Space Cadet fan, isn't he, Roger?"

  "Yeah," said Astro. "Just like Manning is himself."

  "Look," said Roger. "Look, you guys—" He hesitated, as though intending to say something more, but then he turned back to his dinner. "Go on—finish your food," he growled. He bent over his plate and ate without lifting his eyes. And not another word was spoken at the table until a young man approached, carrying a portable teleceiver screen.

  "Pardon me," he said. "Is one of you Cadet Tom Corbett?"

  "Why—I am," acknowledged Tom.

  "There's a call for you. Seems they've been trying to reach you all over Atom City." He placed the teleceiver screen on the table, plugged it into a floor socket and set the dials.

  "Hope's there's nothing wrong at home," said Tom to his friends. "My last letter from Mom said Billy was messing around with a portable atom reactor and she was afraid he might blow himself up."

  A picture began to take shape on the screen. "Migosh," said Astro. "It's Captain Strong."

  "It certainly is," said the captain's image. "Having dinner, eh, boys? Ummmm—those baked shrimps look good."

  "They're terrific," said Astro. "Wish you were here."

  "Wish you could stay there," said Captain Strong.

  "Oh, no!" moaned Astro. "Don't tell me!"

  "Sorry, boys," came the voice from the teleceiver. "But that's it. You've got to return to the Academy immediately. The whole cadet corps has been ordered into space for special maneuvers. We blast off tomorrow morning at six hundred."

  "But, sir," objected Tom, "we can't get a monorail until morning!"

  "This is an official order, Corbett. So you have priority over all civilian transportation." The Solar Guard captain smiled. "I've tied up a whole bank of teleceivers in Atom City searching for you. Get back to Space Academy fast—commandeer an air car if you must, but be here by six hundred hours!" The captain waved a cheery good-bye and the screen went dark.

  "Space maneuvers," breathed Astro. "The real thing."

  "Yeah," agreed Tom. "Here we go!"

  "Our first hop into deep space!" said Roger. "Let's get out of here!"

  CHAPTER 12

  "The following ships in Squadron A will blast off immediately," roared Commander Walters over the teleceiver. He looked up alertly from a chart before him in the Academy spaceport control tower. He began to name the ships. "Capella, orbital tangent—09834, Arcturus, orbital tangent—09835, Centauri, orbital tangent—09836, Polaris, orbital tangent—09837!"

  Aboard the space cruiser Polaris, Tom Corbett turned away from the control board. "That's us, sir," he said to Captain Strong.

  "Very well, Corbett." The Solar Guard captain walked to the ship's intercom and flipped on the switch.

  "Astro, Roger, stand by!"

  Astro and Roger reported in. Strong began to speak. "The cadet corps has been divided into squadrons of four ships each. We are command ship of Squadron A. When we reach free-fall space, we are to proceed as a group until eight hundred hours, when we are to open sealed orders. Each of the other seven squadrons will open their orders at the same time. Two of the squadrons will then act as invaders while the remaining six will be the defending fleet. It will be the invaders' job to reach their objective and the defenders' job to stop them."

  "Spaceport control to rocket cruiser Polaris, your orbit has been cleared for blast-off…" The voice of Commander Walters interrupted Strong in his instructions and he turned back to Tom.

  "Take over, Corbett."

  Tom turned to the teleceiver. "Rocket cruiser Polaris to spaceport control."

  "… Blast off minus two—six hundred forty-eight…"

  "I read you clear," said Tom. He clicked off the teleceiver and turned back to the intercom. "Stand by to raise ship! Control deck to radar deck. Do we have clear trajectory forward and up, Roger?"

  "All clear forward and up," replied Roger.

  "Control deck to power deck… energize the cooling pumps!"

  "Cooling pumps, aye," came from Astro.

  The giant ship began to shudder as the mighty pumps on the power deck started their build.

  Tom strapped himself into the pilot's seat and began checking the dials in front of him. Satisfied, he fastened his eyes on the sweep hand of the time clock. Above his head, the teleceiver screen brought him a clear picture of the Academy spaceport. He watched the giant cruisers take to the air one by one and rocket into the vastness of space.

  The clock hand reached the ten-second mark.

  "Stand by to raise ship!" Tom called into the intercom. The red hand moved steadily, inexorably. Tom reached for the master switch.

  "Blast off minus—five—four—three—two—one—zero!"

  Tom threw the switch.

  The great ship hovered above the ground for a few moments. Then it heaved itself skyward, faster and ever faster, pushing the Earthmen deep into their acceleration cushions.

  Reaching free-fall space, Tom flipped on the artificial-gravity generator. He felt its pull on his body, quickly checked all the instruments and turned to Captain Strong.

  "Ship space-borne at six hundred fifty-three, sir."

  "Very well, Corbett," replied Strong. "Check in with the Arcturus, Capella and the Centauri, form up on one another and assume a course that will bring you back over Academy spaceport at eight hundred hours, when we will open orders."

  "Yes, sir," said Tom, turning back eagerly to the control board.

  For nearly two hours the four rocket ships of Squadron A moved through space in a perfect arc, shaping up for the 0800 deadline. Strong made use of the time to check a new astrogation prism perfected by Dr. Dale for use at hyperspace speeds. Tom rechecked his instruments, then prepared hot tea and sandwiches in the galley for his shipmates.

  "This is what I call service," said Astro. He stood stripped to the waist, a wide leather belt studded with assorted wrenches of various shapes and sizes strapped around his hips. In one hand he carried a wad of waste cotton with which he continually polished the surfaces of the atomic motors, while his eyes constantly searched the many gauges in front of him for the slightest sign of engine failure.

  "Never mind bringing anything up to Manning. I'll eat his share."

  Astro had deliberately turned the intercom on so Roger on the radar deck might hear. The response from that corner was immediate and emphatic.

  "Listen, you rocket-headed grease monkey," yelled Roger. "If you so much as smell that grub, I'll come down and feed you into the reactant chamber!"

  Tom smiled at Astro and turned to the ladder leading up from the power deck. Passing through the control deck on the way to the radar bridge, he glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes to eight.

  "Only one thing I'm worried about, Corbett," said Roger through a mouthful of sandwich.

  "What's that?" asked Tom.

  "Collision!" said Roger. "Some of these space-happy cadets might get excited, and I for one don't want to wind up as a flash in Earth's atmosphere!"

  "Why, you have radar, to see anything that goes on."

  "Oh, sure," said Roger, "I can keep this wagon outa their way, but will they stay outa mine? Why my father told me once—" Roger choked on his food and turned away to the radar screen.

  "Well," said Tom after a moment, "what did your father tell you?"

  "Ah—nothing—not important. But I've got to get a cross-fix on Regulus before we start our little games."

  Tom looked puzzled. Here was another of Roger's quick changes of attitude. What was it all about?
But there was work to do, so Tom shrugged his shoulders and returned to the control deck. He couldn't forget what Roger had said about a collision, though.

  "Excuse me, Captain," said Tom, "but have there been any serious collisions in space between ships?"

  "Sure have, Tom," replied Strong. "About twenty years ago, maybe less, there was a whole wave of them. That was before we developed superrebound pulse radar. The ships were faster than the radar at close range."

  Strong paused. "Why do you ask?"

  Before Tom could answer, there was a sharp warning from the captain.

  "Eight o'clock, Corbett!"

  Tom ripped open the envelope containing the sealed orders. "Congratulations," he read. "You are in command of the defenders. You have under your command, Squadrons A—B—C—D—E—F. Squadrons G and H are your enemies, and at this moment are on their way to attack Luna City. It is your job to protect it and destroy the enemy fleet. Spaceman's luck! Walters, Commander Space Academy, Senior Officer Solar Guard."

  "Roger," yelled Tom, "we've been selected as flagship for the defenders! Get me a course to Luna City!"

  "Good for us, spaceboy. I'll give you that course in a jiffy!"

  "… Capella to Polaris—am standing by for your orders…" Tony Richards' voice crackled over the teleceiver. One by one the twenty-three ships that made up the defender's fleet checked in for orders.

  "Astro," shouted Tom, "stand by for maneuver—and be prepared to give me every ounce of thrust you can get!"

  "Ready, willing and able, Tom," replied Astro. "Just be sure those other space jockeys can keep up with me, that's all!"

  Tom turned to Captain Strong.

  "What do you think of approaching—"

  Strong cut him off. "Corbett, you are in complete command. Take over—you're losing time talking to me!"

  "Yes, sir!" said Tom. He turned back to the control board, his face flushed with excitement. Twenty-four ships to maneuver and the responsibility all his own. Via a chart projected on a screen, he studied various approaches to the Moon and Luna City. What would he do if he were in command of the invading fleet? He noticed the Moon was nearing a point where it would be in eclipse on Luna City itself. He studied the chart further, made several notations and turned to the teleceiver.

  "Attention—attention—flagship Polaris to Squadrons B and C—proceed to chart seven—sectors eight and nine. You will patrol those sectors. Attention Squadrons D and F—proceed to Luna City at emergency space speed, hover at one hundred thousand feet above Luna City spaceport and wait for further orders. Attention, ships three and four of Squadron F—you will proceed to chart six—sectors sixty-eight through seventy-five.

  "Attention Squadrons D and F—proceed to Luna City"

  Cut all rockets and remain there until further orders. The remainder of Squadron F—ships one and two—will join Squadron A. Squadron A will stand by for further orders." Tom glanced at the clock and punched the intercom button.

  "Have you got that course, Roger?"

  "Three degrees on the starboard rockets, seventy-eight degrees on the up-plane of the ecliptic will put you at the corner of Luna Drive and Moonset Land in the heart of Luna City, spaceboy!" answered Roger.

  "Get that, Astro?" asked Tom on the intercom.

  "All set," replied Astro.

  "Attention all ships in Squadron A—this is flagship—code name Starlight—am changing course. Stand by to form up on me!"

  Tom turned back to the intercom.

  "Power deck, execute!"

  At more than five thousand miles an hour, the Polaris hurtled toward its destination. One by one the remaining ships moved alongside until all six had their needlelike noses pointed toward the pale satellite of the Moon.

  "I'd like to know what your plans are, Tom," said Strong, when the long haul toward the Moon had settled down to a routine. "Just idle curiosity, nothing more. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

  "Golly, yes," said Tom, "I'd be very grateful for your opinion."

  "Well, let's have it," said the captain. "But as for my opinion—I'll listen, but I won't say anything."

  Tom grinned sheepishly.

  "Well," he began, "if I were in command of the invading fleet, I would strike in force—I'd have to, to do damage with only eight ships. There are three possible approaches to Luna City. One is from the Earth side, using the eclipse corridor of darkness as protection. To meet that, I've stationed two ships at different levels and distances in that corridor so that it would be impossible for an invasion to pass unnoticed."

  "You mean, you'd be willing to give up two ships to the invader to have him betray his position. Is that right?"

  "Yes, sir. But I've also sent Squadrons B and C to sectors eight and nine on chart seven. So I have a roving squadron to go to their aid, should the invader strike there. And on the other hand, should he manage to get through my outer defense, I have Squadrons D and E over Luna City itself as an inner defense. As for Squadron A, we'll try to engage the enemy first and maybe weaken him; at least reduce the full force of his attack. And then have Squadrons B, C, D and E finish him off, by attack from three different points."

  Strong nodded silently. The young cadet was shaping up a defensive strategy with great skill. If he could only follow through on his plans, the invaders of Luna City wouldn't have much chance of success—even if willing to take heavy losses.

  Roger's voice came on. "Got a report for you, Tom. From command ship, Squadron B. They've sighted the invaders and are advancing to meet them."

  Tom checked his charts and turned to the intercom.

  "Send them this message, Roger," he said. "From Starlight, to command ship, Squadrons B and C—approach enemy ships from position of chart nineteen, sections one through ten."

  "Right!" said Roger.

  Strong smiled. Tom was driving his heaviest force between the invading fleet and its objective—forcing the aggressors into a trap.

  Tom gave more crisp orders to his squadrons. He asked Roger for an estimated range, and then, rechecking his position, turned again to the intercom.

  "Astro, how much could you get out of this baby by opening the by-pass between the cooling pumps and the reactant chamber? That'd mean feeding the stuff into the motors only half cooled."

  Strong turned, started to speak, then clamped his lips together.

  "Another quarter space speed, roughly," replied Astro, "about fifteen hundred miles more an hour. Do you want me to do that?"

  "No, not now," replied Tom. "Just wanted to know what I could depend on, if I get stuck."

  "O.K.," said Astro. "Let me know!"

  "Why use emergency speed, Corbett?" asked Strong. "You seem to have your enemy right where you want him now."

  "Yes, sir," replied Tom. "And the enemy knows I have him. He can't possibly attack Luna City now. But he can still run away. He can make his escape by this one route."

  Tom walked to the chart and ran his finger on a line away from the invader's position into the asteroid belt.

  "I don't want him to get away," Tom explained. "And with the extra speed, we can cut him off, force him to turn into a position where the remainder of my fleet would finish him off."

  "You'll do this with just the Polaris?"

  "Oh, no, sir," said Tom. "I'd use the Arcturus, Capella and the Centauri, as well."

  "Are you sure those other ships can equal your speed?"

  "They've got exactly the same type engines as we have here on the Polaris, sir. I'm sure they could—and with perfect safety."

  Strong hesitated a moment, started to ask a question, then stopped and walked to the chart screen. He checked the figures. He checked them four times, then turned to Tom with a grin and an outstretched hand.

  "I've got to offer my congratulations, Tom. This maneuver would wipe them out. And I've got a notion that you'd come off without the loss of a single ship, plus, and it is a big plus, keeping the invaders more than fifty thousand miles away from their objective!"


  The captain turned to the teleceiver. "Rocket cruiser Polaris to control tower at Space Academy—"

  There was a crackle of static and then the deep voice of Commander Walters boomed from the speaker.

  "Spaceport control to Polaris. Come in, Steve."

  In a few brief sentences, Strong outlined Tom's plan of action to the Academy commander. The commander's face on the teleceiver widened into a grin, then broke out in a hearty laugh.

  "What's that, sir?" asked Captain Strong.

  "Very simple, Steve. All of us—all the Academy top brass—develop a foolproof test for cadet maneuvers. And then your young Corbett makes us look like amateurs."

  "But didn't you expect one side or the other to win?" asked Strong.

  "Of course, but not like this. We've been expecting a couple of days of maneuver, with both sides making plenty of mistakes that we could call them on. But here Corbett wraps the whole thing up before we can get our pencils sharpened."

  "Better stuff cotton in Corbett's ears before he hears all this," rasped Roger Manning over the intercom. "Or his head'll be too big to go through the hatch."

  "Quiet, Manning," came Astro's voice from the power deck. "Your mouth alone is bigger than Tom's head'll ever be."

  "Look, you Venusian ape—" began Roger, but Commander Walters' voice boomed out again. His face on the teleceiver screen was serious now.

  "Attention! Attention all units! The battle has been fought and won on the chart screen of the rocket cruiser Polaris. The Luna City attack has been repelled and the invading fleet wiped out. All units and ships will return to Space Academy at once. Congratulations to all and end transmission."

  The commander's face faded from the screen. Captain Strong turned to Tom. "Good work," he said.

  He was interrupted by a crackle of static from the teleceiver. A face suddenly appeared on the screen—a man's face, frightened and tense.

  "S O S." The voice rang out through the control deck.

  "This is an S O S. Space passenger ship Lady Venus requests assistance immediately. Position is sector two, chart one hundred three. Emergency. We must have—"