“And you’ve heard nothing from him since, sir?” asked Astro.
“Nothing, why?” The officer looked at both of the boys sharply. “Anything wrong?”
“No, sir,” said Tom. “It’s just that Cadet Roger Manning is monitor on the Space Knight and we haven’t been able to talk to him since we blasted off from Space Academy.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Cadet Corbett,” snapped the major. “I’ve heard of Cadet Manning’s reluctance to stick to regulations. I suspect you will be hearing from him soon enough, when the ship runs out of fuel and starts drifting around in the asteroid belt. Those individualists always scream for help when they get in trouble.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom stiffly.
“I already have a squadron of ships standing by to go to their assistance when they do send out a distress alert.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom. “Will that be all, sir? Cadet Astro and I would like to have a bite to eat before we blast off again.”
“Yes, that will be all, Corbett. Don’t wander off too far.” The major turned and walked toward the ships without another word.
“Wonder what’s eating him?” said Tom.
“Never mind,” said Astro. “Come on. Let’s grab a bite while we have the chance.”
They headed for the restaurant in the control building of the spaceport, but were recognized by the reporter of the stereo company who badgered them into stepping before the camera and making statements about the race. He tried to get the boys to commit themselves as to who they hoped would win, and to offer an opinion on what had happened to the Space Knight. But neither Tom nor Astro said anything but that the best man would win. There were the usual eager spectators too, thousands from the large cities on Mars who had taken the ferry rocket up to the spaceport to see the ships come in for refueling. As soon as Tom and Astro could tear away from the stereo reporter, they were mobbed by the onlookers who clamored for autographs. Finally the two cadets had to forego their meal and return to their respective ships to escape the wild demonstration.
Seated in his acceleration chair on the control deck of the Space Lance, waiting for Bill Sticoon to come aboard, Tom found his concern for Roger overriding his enthusiasm for the race. When Sticoon appeared and began to prepare the ship for blast-off, Tom went through the motions mechanically. The Space Lance was scheduled to leave first, with Kit Barnard following at the exact time interval of their arrivals. The Deimos tower operator’s voice droned over the loud-speaker on the control deck of the Space Lance “…minus five, four, three, two, one”—then the breath-taking pause before the climactic—“zero!”
The ship shot spaceward, rockets roaring loudly in the thin atmosphere of the small satellite. The next moment, before the horrified eyes of thousands of people, the Space Lance exploded a few miles above the ground.
Astro stood frozen at the viewport of the Good Company, his eyes glazed with shock as he watched the Martian ship disintegrate far above him. All he could do was mutter brokenly, “Tom…Tom…”
CHAPTER 9
“Blast off!”
Without any preliminaries, Kit Barnard’s order sent the Good Company hurtling spaceward. Astro had just enough time to throw himself into an acceleration chair before the ship shot away from the Deimos spaceport toward the wreckage of the Space Lance.
“Braking rockets!” roared Kit. “Hit them hard, Sid.”
The ship bucked under the force of the counter-acceleration, and the veteran spaceman fought to keep her under control. He snapped out another order. “Cut all rockets!”
The ship was suddenly quiet, hanging motionless in space in the middle of the still-twisting wreckage. The huge bank of atomic motors, the largest single unit on the ship, had already begun to swing around the small moon Deimos in an orbit, while other shattered remains of the once sleek ship began a slow circle around the motors themselves.
Astro was struggling into a space suit when Sid and Kit joined him in the air lock. Quickly the three spacemen clamped their space helmets closed and adjusted the oxygen nozzles. Then, after testing their suit intercoms, they closed the inner-portal air lock, reduced the air pressure, and opened the thick pluglike outer portal. They stared out at the gruesome spectacle of torn hull plates, twisted spars, and broken pieces of equipment floating gently in the velvet space, outlined against the reddish hue of the planet Mars.
“Astro! Kit!” shouted Sid through the suit intercom. “Look, there’s Sticoon! Over there near that tube.” Following Sid’s pointing finger, Astro and Kit turned toward an exhaust tube that had been ripped in half by the explosion. The Martian spaceman’s body floated next to it, limp and broken. Astro shuddered. If Sticoon was dead, then there was little hope for Tom. The big Venusian fought back tears.
Maneuvering themselves away from the ship with the aid of the small jet packs strapped to their shoulders, they reached the dead spaceman. Sid carried him back to the ship while Astro and Kit remained to search the wreckage for Tom.
By now, three small jet boats and two rocket scouts had blasted off from Deimos, bringing emergency rescue equipment. More than a dozen men poured out of the ships and joined in the search. The work was carried on in silence. No one spoke.
Astro and Kit worked side by side, pushing their way gently through the twisting mass that was once a proud spaceship, to the heart of the spiraling wreckage, down toward the bank of atomic motors that was attracting all the lesser pieces. Suddenly Astro paled. He gripped the veteran’s arm and gestured toward a large section of the ship on the other side of the motors that they had not seen before.
“By the stars,” Kit gasped, “it’s the air lock! All in one piece!”
“If Tom managed to get in there, or if he was in there when the ship exploded, maybe he has a chance.”
“You’re right, Astro,” said Kit hopefully.
“But we can’t open it out here,” said Astro. “If Tom is inside, we have to take it down to Deimos. If we open it here, and he doesn’t have a space suit on, he’d suffocate.”
“He’d freeze solid before that,” said Kit, not mentioning the possibility that Tom might very well be frozen already, since the ship’s heating units had been torn away from the air lock.
Quickly Astro hailed the members of the emergency crews that had rocketed up from Deimos and told them of the possibility that Tom was inside the chamber. They all agreed, since they had failed to find the cadet anywhere.
Kit and Astro immediately took charge of getting the bulky boxlike chamber back to Deimos where it could be opened safely. Two of the jet boats were jockeyed into position on either side of the chamber and several lengths of cable were stretched between them, forming a cradle for the chamber. Since the jet boats were equipped with foldaway wings, which, when extended, would enable them to fly at slower speed through atmosphere, they hoped to make a glider landing at the Deimos spaceport.
Astro would not let anyone handle the boats but Kit and himself, and only by threat of physical violence was he able to keep the regular pilots out of the control chairs on the speedy little ships. He might suffer for it later when the officers reported his actions, but the big Venusian was beyond caring. If Tom was not safe inside the vacuum chamber, he felt there wasn’t much use in being a cadet any longer. Fleetingly he thought of Roger, who didn’t stand a chance of reaching Ganymede on a single solo hop from Earth in a ship the size of the Space Knight. The Polaris unit seemed doomed.
With Kit Barnard in one jet boat, Astro strapped himself into the control chair of the other, and intercoms on, they gently fed power into their ships. Coordinating perfectly in their maneuvers, they headed back to the spaceport with their strange cargo.
Slowly and gently, Kit and Astro circled lower and lower until the two jet boats were directly over the Deimos spaceport. They circled wide and shut off power together, coming down in a long, easy glide. Keeping the cables taut between them, so the chamber wouldn’t touch the concrete strip, the two spacemen
made perfect landings, coming to a stop directly in front of the control tower. Astro was out of his ship in a flash and almost immediately Kit was beside him. They took no notice of the stereo reporter who was focusing his camera on their efforts to force open the portal on the chamber. Nor did they notice the immense crowd, standing behind police lines, watching and waiting in silence.
“A cutting torch!” bellowed Astro to the emergency crew below. “Get me a cutting torch.”
In an instant the torch was handed to him, and ripping the space gloves off his hands, the big cadet began cutting into the tough metal side of the chamber.
The seconds ticked into minutes. The crowds did not move, and only the low comments of the stereo reporter talking over an interplanetary network could be heard above the hiss of the torch as Astro bent to his task. A half hour passed. Astro didn’t move or turn away from the blinding light of the torch as he cut into the section of the chamber where the portal locks would be. He did not notice that the Good Company and the emergency fleet had returned to the spaceport, nor that Sid was now beside him with Kit.
An hour passed. It seemed to the big cadet that the metal he was cutting, alloyed to protect spacemen against the dangers of the void, was now threatening to cost Tom’s life, if indeed he still survived. No one could live long under such conditions unless they had a fresh supply of oxygen. Kit tried to take the torch away from Astro, but the giant Venusian would not let him have it. Again and again, the tanks of fuel supplying the torch were emptied and quickly replaced with fresh ones.
There was something awe-inspiring about the big cadet as he crouched over the torch, its white-hot flame reflected in his grim features. Everyone around him watched in silent fascination, aware that this was a rare exhibition of devotion toward a comrade. They all were certain that Astro would reach Tom—or die in the attempt.
* * * *
“Touchdown!” Captain Strong called into the ship’s intercom. “Secure stations.”
The rocket cruiser Polaris had just settled on the blast-stained concrete of the Titan spaceport after a blazing flight nonstop from Earth. A Solar Guard cruiser, the most powerful class of spaceship in the Solar Alliance, the Polaris was also equipped with hyperdrive, a well-guarded secret method of propulsion, enabling Solar Guard ships to travel through space faster than any other craft known. Many commercial shipping companies, including those entered in the race to Titan, had pleaded for the use of hyperdrive on their ships but were summarily refused. It was one of the strongest weapons in the entire Solar Alliance.
As Commander Walters released the straps holding him securely in his acceleration chair and stepped up beside Strong, the Solar Guard captain gestured toward the teleceiver screen on the bulkhead.
“We’re being met by the local officials, sir,” he said.
“Ummm,” was the commander’s laconic reply as he studied the screen. “There’s Captain Howard.”
“He doesn’t look any too happy, sir,” commented Strong.
“How would you feel if you had just spent seven years building up the mine operations here on Titan and then have something like this happen to you?”
Strong shook his head. “You’re right, sir. I forgot that Howard asked for this duty.”
“It’s strange how a man will take to a place,” mused Walters. “The first time he returned to the Academy, after a tour of duty here on Titan, he looked like a man who had just fallen in love.” Walters chuckled. “And in a way I guess he had. He put in for immediate permanent duty here and went back to school to learn all about the mining operations. He, more than anyone else in the Solar Guard, is responsible for our success here.”
“Well, are you ready to leave the ship, sir?” asked Strong.
“Yes,” replied the commander, but he continued to stare at the teleceiver screen. Strong waited respectfully and finally Walters turned back to him, shaking his head. “The spaceport looks pretty deserted,” was his only comment.
Strong had already noticed the desolate appearance of the ordinarily buzzing spaceport and it troubled him more than he would show. He knew that unless the defect in the force fields was corrected soon, the outer-space colony would have to be abandoned to the deadly methane ammonia atmosphere. And to Strong, who had seen the dead satellite before the Solar Guard had discovered crystal there, it was like seeing an old friend sick with a deadly disease. In addition, the hundreds of thousands of colonists would have to be relocated if the force fields could not be repaired and the effect on the economy of the whole Solar Alliance would be disastrous.
Walters and Strong were met at the air lock by Captain Howard. “I’m awfully glad to see you, sir,” he said, coming to attention and saluting smartly. “Hello, Steve. Welcome to Titan.”
“Glad to be here, Joe,” said Strong.
“We came out as soon as we received your report that you had started evacuation,” said Walters. “Have you discovered anything new?”
Howard shook his head. “Not a thing, Commander,” he replied. “We’ve done just about everything but take the force-field projectors apart, but so far we haven’t found a thing wrong.”
“Any word on the race, Joe?” asked Strong.
Howard looked surprised. “By the stars, I almost forgot. One of the ships is trying to make it to Ganymede without stopping at Deimos for refueling. And another blew up.”
Strong gasped. “Which one?”
“Space Lance,” said Howard. “Exploded over Deimos right after blast-off. Knight is the one that’s trying the long solo hop. Haven’t received any word from him yet.”
“But what about the crew of the Space Lance?” demanded Strong with a glance at Walters.
“The pilot, Sticoon, was killed, and they haven’t found Cadet Corbett yet.” And then understanding flashed in Howard’s eyes. “Say, that’s one of the boys in your unit, isn’t it, Steve?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Strong grimly. He turned to Walters. “Have I your permission to contact Deimos for the latest details, sir?”
“Of course, Steve. Go ahead.”
Strong turned quickly and climbed into a nearby jet boat. The enlisted spaceman at the controls sent the tiny vessel skimming across the broad expanse of the spaceport toward the control tower.
Walters and Howard watched him leave. “I hope nothing has happened to that boy,” said Walters. “Corbett is one of the finest cadets we have.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t look too good, sir,” Howard answered.
“Well, what about the other ship, Space Knight?” asked Walters. “Cadet Manning is on that one. Any report on where they are?”
“Nothing, sir,” replied Howard. “We just heard that he was by-passing Deimos and going on right through to Ganymede, hoping to get a jump on the other two.”
“Did Cadet Manning make that report?” asked Walters.
“No, sir. It was the pilot. Quent Miles. There was no mention of Cadet Manning, sir.”
Walters shook his head. “Certainly is strange,” he mused aloud. Then he barked, in his usual brusque manner, “Well, we’ve got this problem here to worry about now. All mining operations have stopped, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir. The men won’t work unless they have a guarantee that their wives and children are safe.”
“Can’t blame them,” said Walters, surveying the quiet spaceport.
The two Solar Guard officers climbed into another waiting jet boat and shot away from the Polaris toward the tower.
Inside the shimmering crystal control tower, Steve Strong paced up and down behind the enlisted spaceman trying to contact the Deimos spaceport across the millions of miles of space.
“This is Titan spaceport calling Deimos spaceport! Come in, Deimos spaceport.”
There was a flood of static, and then, very faintly, the voice of the tower operator on Deimos answered. “This is Deimos spaceport. Go ahead, Titan.”
“Transmitting request for information by Captain Steve Strong of the Solar Guard,” the
Titan operator called into the microphone. “Information concerning explosion of rocket ship Space Lance. Please give details on survivors.”
There was a momentary pause and the loud-speaker crackled with static. The voice of the Deimos operator broke through. “Captain Sticoon dead. Cadet Corbett believed trapped in air-lock chamber. They have just cut through the chamber. It will be a few minutes before I can give you any further information.”
“Very well, Deimos. I will hold this channel open.”
Walters and Howard entered the room. “Any word, Strong?” asked the commander. Strong shook his head.
The loud-speaker over the control panel crackled into life again. “Ganymede station to Titan spaceport! Come in, Titan!”
The three Solar Guard officers looked at each other in surprise as the Titan operator acknowledged the call. “This is Titan. Go ahead, Ganymede.”
“We have just received word that the rocket ship Space Knight is within five minutes of a touchdown this spaceport. Will probably blast off again immediately after refueling. Acknowledge, Titan!”
“I read you, Ganymede!” replied the Titan operator.
“What is your estimated time of arrival at Titan?”
The Ganymede operator was silent a moment, then announced a time that made Strong and Walters blink in amazement. “It is based on his speed from Earth to this point, Titan.”
“Very well, Ganymede. End transmission,” said the Titan man, closing his key.
Captain Howard stared at Strong and Walters in amazement. “I can’t believe it.” Strong shook his head. “It’s fantastic!”
“I know it is, gentlemen,” said a voice in back of them. “But nevertheless the Ganymede station confirms it.”
Strong, Walters, and Howard spun around to look into the smiling face of Charley Brett.
Before anyone could say anything, the voice of the Deimos operator broke the stunned silence. “Deimos to Titan, I have your information now. Are you ready, Titan?”
“Go ahead, Deimos,” said the Titan man.
The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack: 10 Classic Young Adult Sci-Fi Novels Page 92