Tom Corbett Space Cadet

by Carey Rockwell

  Walters turned back to Strong. "Well, now that's settled, tell me, what do you think of the race tomorrow, Steve?"

  "If Kit Barnard gets that reactor of his functioning properly, he'll run away from the other two."

  "I don't know," mused Walters. "Wild Bill Sticoon is a hot spaceman. One of the best rocket jockeys I've ever seen. Did I ever tell you what we went through a few years back trying to get him to join the Solar Guard?" Walters laughed. "We promised him everything but the Moon. But he didn't want any part of us. 'Can't ride fast enough in your wagons, Commander,' he told me. Quite a boy!"

  "And with Quent Miles in there, it's going to be a very hot race," asserted Strong.

  "Ummmmh," Walters grunted. "He's the unknown quantity. Did you see that ship of his? Never saw anything more streamlined in my whole life."

  "And the cadets said he stripped her of everything but the hull plates."

  "It paid off for him," said Walters. "He and Charley Brett are certainly working hard to get this contract."

  "There's a lot of money involved, sir," said Strong. "But in any case we're bound to get a good schedule with the speeds established so far."

  "Well, advise the cadets to stand by for blast-off with the finalists tomorrow."

  "Any particular ship you want them each assigned to, sir?" asked Strong.

  "No, let them decide," replied Walters. "But it would be best if you could keep Manning away from Miles. That's like putting a rocket into a fire and asking it not to explode."

  The two men grinned at each other and then settled down to working out the details of Strong's trip. Before the evening was over, Walters had decided, if necessary, he would follow Strong out to Titan.

  In the distance, they could hear the muffled roar of rocket motors as the three finalists tuned up their ships, preparing for the greatest space race in history. And it seemed to Strong that with each blast there was a vaguely ominous echo.

  * * * * *

  "I've strained that fuel four times and come up with the same answer," said Astro. The giant Venusian held up the oil-smeared test tube for Kit Barnard's inspection. "Impure reactant. And so impure that it couldn't possibly have come from the Academy supply depot. It would have been noticed."

  "Then how did it get in my feeders?" asked Kit, half to himself.

  "Whoever was messing around on the power deck just before you blasted off for the trials must have dumped it in," said Tom.

  "Obviously." Kit nodded. "But who is that? Who would want to do a dirty thing like that?"

  "Who indeed?" said a voice in back of them. They all spun around to face Quent Miles. He lounged against the stabilizer fin and grinned at them.

  "What do you want, Miles?" asked Kit.

  "Just stopped by to give you the proverbial handshake of good luck before we blast off," replied the spaceman with a mocking wink.

  "Kit doesn't need your good wishes," snapped Sid.

  "Well, now, that's too bad," said Quent. "I have a feeling that he's going to need a lot more than luck."

  "Listen, Miles," snapped Kit, "did you come aboard my ship and tamper with the fuel?"

  Quent's eyes clouded. "Careful of your accusations, Barnard."

  "I'm not accusing you, I'm asking you."

  "See you in space." Quent laughed, turning to leave, not answering the question. "But then, again, maybe I won't see you." He disappeared into the darkness of the night.

  "The nerve of that guy," growled Tom.

  "Yes," Kit agreed, shrugging his shoulders. "But I'm more concerned about this unit than I am about Quent Miles and his threats. Let's get back to work."

  Renewing their efforts, Tom, Roger, Astro, Sid, and Kit Barnard turned to the reactor unit and began the laborious job of putting it back together again, at the same time replacing worn-out parts and adjusting the delicate clearances.

  It was just before dawn when Strong visited Kit's ship. Seeing the cadets stripped to the waist and working with the veteran spaceman, he roared his disapproval. "Of all the crazy things to do! Don't you know that you could have Kit disqualified for helping him?"

  The giant Venusian held up the oil-smeared test tube

  "But—but—" Tom tried to stammer an explanation.

  "I couldn't have done it alone," explained Kit. He looked at Strong and their eyes met. Understanding flowed between them.

  "Very well," said Strong, fighting to control himself. "If no one makes a complaint against you, we'll let it pass."

  "Thanks, Steve," said Kit.

  "You should have known better, Kit," said Strong. "The Solar Guard is supposed to be neutral throughout the entire race and do nothing but judge it."

  "I know, Steve," said Kit. "But someone dumped impure reactant into my—"

  "What?" It was the first time Strong had heard of it and he listened intently as the cadets and Sid told him the whole story.

  "Why didn't you make a complaint?" demanded Strong finally. "We'd have given you more time to get squared away."

  "It's not important," said Kit. "I won a place in the finals and now the boys and Sid have helped me clean it out."

  Strong nodded. "All right. I guess one seems to balance out the other. Forget it." He smiled. "And excuse me for jumping like that and thinking that you would do anything—er—" He hesitated.

  "That's all right, Steve." Kit spoke up quickly to save his friend embarrassment.

  Strong turned to the cadets. "I've got news for you three. You are going to monitor the race by yourselves."

  Tom, Roger, and Astro looked at each other dumfounded as Strong quickly outlined the plan. Later, when Sid and Kit were working inside the ship, he told them of the sudden danger on Titan.

  "So I'm going to leave it up to you which ship you want to ride," he concluded. "The commander has suggested that Roger not be sent along with Miles on the Space Knight. He seems to think the two of you wouldn't get along."

  "On the contrary, skipper," said Roger, "I'd like the opportunity of keeping an eye on him."

  Strong thought a moment. "Not a bad idea, Roger," he said as he turned to Astro. "And I suppose you want to ride with Kit and his reactor?"

  Astro grinned. "Yes, sir. If I may."

  "All right. Tom, I guess that means you ride with Wild Bill Sticoon."

  "That's all right with me, sir," the young cadet said excitedly. "This is something I'll be able to tell my grandchildren—riding with the hottest spaceman in the hottest race through space."

  * * * * *

  Quent Miles spun around, his paralo-ray gun leveled. He saw a figure enter through the hatch, but when light revealed the face he relaxed.

  "Oh, it's you!" he grumbled. "I thought you were setting things up back at Atom City."

  "You fumble-fisted, space-gassing jerk!" snarled Charley Brett. "Depend on you to get things messed up! That Barnard guy is all set to roll with his reactor!"

  "Then why didn't Ross take care of him on the Moon?" asked Miles.

  "He didn't land," replied Brett. "He kept going and made the whole trip without refueling that new unit of his. It's so good that he got back here still carrying half a tank of reactant."

  "Well, you haven't any kick with me," asserted Miles. "I dumped that stuff in his tanks."

  "Then how come he made it so fast?" growled Brett. "How come he made it at all?"

  "How should I know?" snapped Quent. "Listen, Charley, lay off me. You might be able to order Ross around, but you don't scare me. And I don't think you have Ross fooled either."

  "Never mind that now!" said Brett irritably. "We've got to line things up for the race. Listen! Ross left Luna City this morning for the hide-out. Here's what I want you to do. After you blast off—" Brett's voice dropped to a whisper and Quent's eyes opened with understanding, and then his rugged features broke out into a grin as Brett continued talking.

  Finally Brett straightened up. "I'm going on out to Titan now to see if things are O.K. You got everything clear?"

  "Everything's clear
," said Quent. "And you know something, Charley? You have a nasty way about you, but you certainly know how to figure the angles. This is perfect. We can't miss."

  "I love you too, sweetheart," said Brett sourly. He turned and hurried out of the ship. Just before he stepped on the slidewalk that would take him to the monorail station, he saw the three members of the Polaris unit leaving Kit Barnard's installation. He grinned and made a mocking salute to them in the darkness.

  "So long suckers!" he called softly.

  CHAPTER 7

  "What!"

  Quent Miles looked at Strong and then back at Roger. "You mean this jerk's going to ride with me?"

  Roger Manning squared his shoulders and stuck out his chin. "Let's make the most of this, Miles," he said. "I don't like it any more than you do. I wouldn't like to be watched, either, if I had just crawled out from under a rock."

  Strong suppressed a grin and then turned back to Quent. "That's the way it is, Miles. Commander Walters' orders. There's nothing that can be done now. Cadets Manning, Corbett, and Astro have been given these assignments because they have worked so closely on the race project, and, I might add, you couldn't ask for a better astrogator should you get into trouble."

  "The day I'll ask for help from a kid still wet behind the ears is the day I'll stop flying," snarled Miles.

  Strong shrugged. "You either consent to the regulations, or disqualify yourself from the race."

  The spaceman's face turned a dusky red under his swarthy complexion. "All right, all right! If that's the way it is, that's the way we'll play it. But I'm warning you, Manning, stay away from me."

  Strong glanced at his wrist chronograph. "You have five minutes before the blast-off, stand by." He shook hands with Roger. "Good luck, Roger, and be careful. And remember, Captain Miles has already proved himself a crackerjack spaceman. Don't interfere with him."

  "Yes, sir," said Roger.

  "Good luck, Miles," said Strong and offered his hand. Quent ignored it.

  "Thanks for nothing," he sneered. "I know how much you want me to have."

  "The best man wins," snapped Strong. He turned on his heels and left the black ship.

  Quent Miles and Roger faced each other. "All right, Manning," said Miles after he had closed the air lock, "take your station. And remember I'm skipper of this ship."

  "So what?" said Roger. "I'm still the monitor—!" He turned and swaggered away.

  Miles watched him go, a crooked smile twisting his lips. "Make the most of it, Manning," he muttered under his breath.

  * * * * *

  "You will make two stops for refueling on your trip," Captain Strong called over the loud-speakers, as well as into the intercom connecting the three ships. "First fuel stop will be on Deimos of Mars and the second will be at Ganymede. You are to chart a direct course to each of them. Should an emergency arise, you will call for assistance on the special teleceiver and audioceiver circuits open to you, numbers seventeen and eighty-three. You are to circle each fueling stop three times before making a touchdown, and make a final circle around Titan when you arrive.

  "Stand by to raise ship! And spaceman's luck!"

  Strong turned and flipped on the intercom to the control tower. "All ready up there?" he called.

  "All set, sir," replied the enlisted spaceman.

  "All right, give them their orbits and blast-off time."

  There was a slight pause, and then the gruff voice of the tower operator was heard over the loud-speakers and in the ships. "All ships will blast off on orbit forty-one… raise ship at 18:51:35… stand by!"

  There was a tense moment of silence while the seconds on the red hand of the astral chronometer slipped around the dial. Out on the field, the three ships were pointed toward the darkening afternoon skies. The first ship, nearest the tower, was Wild Bill Sticoon's ship, the Space Lance, painted a gleaming white. Strong could see Tom sitting beside the viewport, and across the distance that separated them, the Solar Guard officer could see the curly-haired cadet wave. He returned the greeting.

  Next was the black ship with the red markings that had aroused so much comment. Strong searched the viewports for a sight of Roger but could not see him. Finally he looked over at Kit Barnard's red-painted Good Company. He knew Astro would be on the power deck, preferring to nurse the reactor than watch the blast-off.

  And then Strong was conscious of the tower operator counting off the seconds. He would pick it up at ten minus. He gripped the intercom mike as Mike's voice droned in his ears.

  "… fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten…"

  "Stand by to raise ships!" bawled Strong. He watched the sweep hand on the chronometer. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one—zero!"

  There was really very little to see. The three ships left Earth in a giant upheaval of thunderous noise and blazing red exhaust flames. The roar of the crowds was lost in the explosions of the rockets. And the greatest race in space was underway.

  Strong raced up to the control tower and stood in front of the radar scanner to watch the course of the three vessels now blasting through the atmosphere. They were three white blips on the green surface of the glass scope, in perfect line, traveling at incredible speeds.

  Strong turned to the enlisted spaceman. "Contact the ships and see if everything's all right," he ordered.

  "Very well, sir," replied the spaceman, turning to the audioceiver microphone.

  "Spaceport control to rocket ships Space Lance, Space Knight, and Good Company. Come in, please."

  There was a crackling of static over the loud-speaker and then the calm voice of Tom filled the control tower. "This is Corbett on the Space Lance. Go ahead."

  Strong took the microphone. "This is Captain Strong," he called. "How was your blast-off, Tom?"

  "Smooth as silk, sir," replied the young cadet. "Wild Bill sends his greetings and says he'll take a three-inch steak instead of flowers when he wins."

  "Tell him it's a deal." Strong laughed. "End transmission."

  "See you on Titan, sir," said Tom. "End transmission."

  Strong then spoke to Kit Barnard on the Good Company, but did not get a chance to speak to Astro. "He's down on the power deck, Steve," reported Kit. "He's watching that reactor as if it were a treasure chest."

  "To him it is," said Strong. "Good luck, Kit."

  "Incidentally," said Kit before signing off, "I heard that crack Wild Bill made about a steak. Better put my name on it!"

  Strong then contacted Quent Miles' vessel. "Is Manning there, Miles?"

  "Yeah, he's here. Dead asleep!" growled Miles. "I thought you said he was going to be a help."

  Strong's face grew red. "Well, wake him up," he snapped.

  "You come wake him up," said Miles, and then the speaker went dead.

  "Control tower to Space Knight!" Strong called angrily. "Come in, Miles. Control tower to Space Knight!"

  "Yeah. What do you want?" growled Miles over the vast distance of space that already separated the two men and that each second took them thousands of miles farther apart.

  "I want to speak to Manning," demanded Strong. "And if you cut me off like that again, Miles, I'll have you before a Solar Guard court for violation of the space code, race or no race."

  "I told you once," said Miles. "Manning is asleep. He sacked in right after we left the Academy. Now leave me alone, will you! I've got a race to win!"

  "Very well, Miles," said Strong. "But for your sake, I hope Cadet Manning is asleep."

  "End transmission," growled Miles, and again the speaker went dead.

  "Trouble, Steve?"

  Strong turned to see Commander Walters enter the control room.

  "No, sir," said Strong. "I tried to contact Roger, but Quent Miles told me he's asleep."

  "Asleep!" cried Walters. "But I thought you weren't going to put Manning with Miles."

  "Astro wanted to go with Kit, sir. And Tom was anxious to go with Wild Bill Sticoon. Roger didn't seem to mind."

&
nbsp; "Did Miles object?"

  "Yes, sir. But I think he would object to anyone going with him."

  "And he told you Roger is asleep?"

  Strong nodded. Walters pushed past him to the intercom and took the microphone. "This is Commander Walters calling rocket ship Space Knight. Come in, Space Knight."

  There was a flutter of static and then Quent Miles' voice again. There was a little more respect in his tone but his story was the same. Roger was sleeping.

  Walters slammed the microphone down. "By the craters of Luna, this is the last time I'll take this nonsense from Manning!" He jerked around and stood facing the viewport. "I'm sorry, Steve, but there have been more reports from Titan. The situation is serious. I've had to start evacuation. And then to get this smart-alecky behavior out of Manning. Well, you know what I mean."

  Strong nodded, now more concerned about the emergency on Mars. "Shall I blast off right away, sir?" he asked.

  Walters nodded grimly. "Yes. And I'm going with you. I'll leave Major Connel in charge while I'm gone. I would prefer to have him go, but he's been working with Dr. Dale on some new idea about reinforcing the force field and I can't pull him off it. You and I will have to do what we can."

  Strong turned to the tower operator and ordered the rocket cruiser Polaris readied for immediate space flight, concluding, "… and have a full complement of Space Marines aboard. And I want Warrant Officer Mike McKenny as squad leader."

  "Have you forgotten, sir?" interjected the enlisted spaceman who was taking Strong's orders. "Warrant Officer McKenny cannot take acceleration."

  "All right, get—" Strong hesitated. "Get me Jeff Marshall, Professor Sykes' assistant."

  Walters nodded. "Good idea. Jeff can take care of any lab tests we may have to make and also knows how to handle men. As a matter of fact," Walters continued, "if Jeff does well on this assignment I might put him up for a commission in the Solar Guard. He did well on that last trip into deep space during that trouble on Roald."