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.”
“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.”
“Yes, sir,” said Strong. “And I’ll gladly endorse it.”
“Is that all, sir?” asked the enlisted man.
“That’s it, spaceman!” said Strong. When the man didn’t move right away, Walters and Strong looked at him. “Well, what is it?”
“Excuse me, sir,” said the guardsman, a bright-faced youngster who had failed to pass the rigid requirements for cadet training and so had entered the enlisted Solar Guard. “I heard what Captain Miles said about Cadet Manning being asleep and—” He hesitated.
“Well, what about it?” prompted Walters.
“Well, sir, I don’t know if it means anything or not,” replied the boy nervously. “But just before the ship blasted off, I saw Cadet Manning standing inside the air lock. He looked as if he wanted to get out. But you were counting the blast-off time, sir. And he disappeared a few seconds before you hit zero.”
Strong looked at Walters. “Are you sure?” he asked the boy.
“I’m positive, sir. I know Cadet Manning well, and he looked as though he was scared.”
Strong clenched his fists. “Asleep, huh?” he growled. “Get me the Space Knight!”
The boy returned to the audioceiver and began calling Miles, but there was no reply. After a few minutes Walters interrupted, “We can’t waste any more time here, Steve. We’ve got to blast off!”
“Get hold of Corbett on the Space Lance,” said Strong to the spaceman. “Tell him I said to get in touch with Manning on the Space Knight. Ask him to find out what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then tell him to contact me on the Polaris. We’re blasting off immediately.”
“Very well, sir.”
Walters turned to Captain Strong. “What do you think it means, Steve?” he asked.
> “I can’t figure it, sir. Knowing Manning as I do, it could be a crazy stunt or it could be serious.”
“It had better be serious,” said Walters grimly, “for Manning’s sake. One more slip, and I’m bouncing him right out of the Academy!”
The two officers left the control tower, leaving young Oliver Muffin alone, droning his monotonous call to Tom Corbett, somewhere between Earth and Mars—a call that was to be the young cadet’s first warning of treachery in deep space!
CHAPTER 8
“All clear ahead, Bill!”
Tom Corbett stood at the radarscope and watched the thin white line sweep around the face of the instrument. “Nothing in space but us!” he announced.
The veteran spaceman grunted and grinned at the curly-haired cadet he had grown to like and respect in the short time they had been together. Not only did Tom know how to handle a ship, spelling the pilot for a few moments to have a walk around the control deck, but he was good company as well. More than once, Tom had surprised the Martian spaceman with his sober judgment of the minor decisions Sticoon had to make in flight.
“Why don’t you try to contact Manning again, Tom?” Sticoon suggested. “He might be awake now.”
Tom grinned, but in his heart he did not think it very funny. It was no joke that Captain Strong had called him to contact Roger. And Tom was worried. So far, he had not been able to reach the blond-haired cadet. He settled himself in front of the communicator and began calling the black ship again.
“Rocket ship Space Lance to rocket ship Space Knight! Come in!”
He waited. Nothing but static and silence greeted him.
“Space Knight, come in!”
He waited again as the sleek white ship plummeted deeper into space toward the first refueling stop on Deimos, one of the small twin moons of Mars. Still there was no acknowledging reply from the black ship that had streaked ahead of them after the blast-off.
“I’m going to try to contact Kit Barnard,” said Tom. “Maybe he can pick up Miles’ blip on his radar.”
Tom made the necessary adjustment on the audioceiver and broadcast the call for the owner-pilot of the Good Company. Finally, after repeated tries, he heard a faint signal and recognized the voice of his unit mate Astro.
“What’s the matter, Astro?” asked Tom. “I can hardly hear you.”
“We’re having trouble with the by-pass lines to the generators,” replied Astro. “We’ve cut down to standard space speed, and Sid and Kit are making repairs now.”
“Have you heard from Roger?” asked Tom across the vast abyss of space separating them. “I’ve been trying to contact the Space Knight for the last six hours and can’t get any acknowledgment.”
“Haven’t seen it,” replied Astro. “Lost contact with her a long time ago. She moved ahead at emergency space speed and we lost her on our radar an hour after we blasted off.”
“O.K., Astro. Hope Kit gets his wagon going again. We’ve got to make a race of this, or the people throughout the system will be disappointed.” He turned and winked at Wild Bill.
“Listen, you curly-haired twerp!” roared Astro, and it seemed to Tom that he could hear his friend without the loud-speaker. “We’re going to give you the hottest run of your lives when we get going!”
“O.K., Astro,” said Tom. “If you can contact Roger, tell him to get in touch with Captain Strong right away. He’s probably blasted off on the Polaris by now.”
“Right, Tom. End transmission.”
“End transmission.”
Tom turned back to the skipper of the Space Lance with a feeling of despair. “I can’t figure it out, Bill,” he said. “Roger’s pulled some boners before, real rocket blasters, but refusing to answer a call from Strong—” He shook his head.
The audioceiver suddenly crackled into life. “Space Knight to Space Lance, check in!” Quent Miles’ voice was harsh and clear.
Tom jumped back to the microphone. “Space Lance, Cadet Corbett here!” he shouted eagerly. “Go ahead, Space Knight! Where’s Manning?”
“Still asleep!” replied Miles. “Just wanted to tell you boys good-by. I’m not stopping to refuel at Deimos! I’m going right on through to Ganymede! End transmission!”
Only static filled the control deck of the Space Lance as Tom clutched the microphone and pleaded desperately for Quent Miles to answer him. “Come in, Miles! This is Corbett on the Space Lance to Quent Miles on the Space Knight! Come in, Miles! Come in!”
Bill Sticoon shook his head. “Miles must be nuts trying to get to Ganymede without refueling,” he muttered. “Traveling at emergency space speed, he’ll eat up his fuel before he gets one third of the way to Jupiter!”
Tom looked at Sticoon. “And Roger’s with him.”
Sticoon nodded grimly. “They’ll wind up drifting around in space halfway between Mars and Jupiter. Finding them will be about as easy as looking for a pebble in the Martian desert.”
* * * *
“Have you found the Space Lance yet, Astro?” asked Kit Barnard, glancing over his shoulder at the giant Venusian, standing at the radarscope.
“I think I’m getting it now,” said Astro. “Either that or I’ve picked up an asteroid.”
“Not likely,” said Kit. “We’re too far from the belt to have anything that big drifting around without being charted. It must be Sticoon.”
“Boy!” chuckled Astro. “This reactor really packs a load of power!”
“How are we doing on fuel, Sid?” Kit called into the intercom.
“We lost a lot trying to prime the pumps,” replied the young crew chief. “We have to touch down on Deimos and refuel.”
“That’s all right,” replied Kit with a smile. “We’re gaining on Sticoon fast. We should make Deimos about the same time. I wonder where Quent Miles is by now.”
“Probably wishing he had stopped for fuel!” interjected Astro with a sour look on his face.
“See if you can pick up Sticoon on the audioceiver, Astro,” said Kit. “Ask him for an estimated time of arrival on Deimos. One of us will have to come in first.”
Astro flipped the switch on the panel and began his call “Good Company to Space Lance, come in!”
“Right here, Astro,” replied Tom immediately. “Boy, you certainly are burning up space! What have you got in your fuel tanks? Light speed?”
“Just a little thing we whipped up,” said Astro with a grin. “What is your ETA on Deimos, Tom?”
“Less than five minutes. Four minutes and thirty seconds, to be exact. Think you can beat that?”
“If we can’t beat it, we can equal it!” said Astro. “See you on the Martian moon, buddy! End transmission!”
Steadily, the Good Company rocketed through space, eating up the miles and gaining on the Space Lance. Both ships now made contact with the control tower on Deimos and received landing instructions.
“Space Lance will touch down on Ramp Three, Good Company on Ramp Six,” crackled the voice of the Deimos tower operator, “and don’t forget your approach orbits!”
“Have you heard from the Space Knight?” called Tom.
“Sorry, Space Lance,” came the reply, “there has been no contact with Space Knight.”
Tom began to feel the fingers of fear creeping up and down his spine. Quent Miles had carried out his plan of going on to Ganymede without refueling, threatening not only his own life, but Roger’s as well.
Sticoon completed the three circling passes around Deimos and shouted to Tom over his shoulder. “Stand by, Corbett. We’re ready to go in!”
Tom strapped himself into his acceleration chair and, watching the atmospheric altimeter, a delicate instrument that recorded their height above the surface of a heavenly body, began to call off the indicated figures.
“Five thousand feet, four, three—dropping too fast—compensate for lesser gravity—two thousand, one, five hundred, two hundred—” Tom braced himself and seconds later felt the impact of the ship settling stern first on the co
ncrete ramp. “Touchdown,” he sang out in a clear voice.
While Sticoon secured the control deck, closing the many switches and circuits on the master panel, Tom opened the air lock. Almost immediately, special-trained crews swarmed into the ship to refuel her and prepare her for the next lap of the race. Tom and Sticoon stepped out onto the spaceport of the tiny moon of Mars and gazed up at the red planet that loomed large over the horizon. As a transfer point for the great passenger liners that rocketed between Venusport, Atom City, and Marsopolis, the refueling station at Deimos was well staffed and expertly manned.
Standing at the air lock, Tom and Sticoon heard the blasting roar of the Good Company coming down in a fast, expert touchdown, and they hurried across the spaceport to greet their rivals.
When the air lock opened, Tom immediately began to kid Astro and Sid, while Sticoon and Kit Barnard compared flight notes. A Universal Stereo reporter rushed up with a small portable camera and conducted an interview that was to be telecast back to Earth. Both spacemen were reluctant to voice any predictions of the outcome of the race, but Tom noticed that Kit was smiling and seemed in good spirits. Tom, with all his worries about Roger, could not help but feel happy that the independent spaceman was proving his reactor.
A man in the uniform of a Solar Guard major appeared. He introduced himself as an official monitor of the race, appointed by Commander Walters, and asked them for a report.
“Captain Sticoon has followed all regulations, sir,” said Tom.
“And Captain Barnard, Cadet Astro?” asked the officer.
“Same thing, sir,” replied Astro. “Captain Barnard has followed the rules of the race exactly.”
“Thank you,” replied the officer and started to turn away.
“Any word from the Space Knight, sir?” Tom asked quickly.
“Nothing, Corbett,” the officer replied. “We received the same message that Captain Miles would attempt to go on through to Ganymede without stopping here at Deimos for refueling.”
The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack: 10 Classic Young Adult Sci-Fi Novels Page 91