"Meet Space Cadet Corbett—an Earthworm who's just passed his control-deck manual operations exam!"

Astro looked up from a book of tables on astrogation and gave Tom a wan smile.

"Congratulations, Tom," he said, and turned back to his book, adding bitterly, "but if I don't get these tables down by this afternoon for my power-deck manual, you're sunk."

"Say—what's going on here?" asked Tom. "Where's Roger? Didn't he help you with them?"

"He left. Said he had to see someone before taking his radar-bridge manual. He helped me a little. But when I'd ask him a question, he'd just rattle the answer off so fast—well, I just couldn't follow him."

Suddenly slamming the book shut, he got up. "Me and these tables"—he indicated the book—"just don't mix!"

"What's the trouble?"

"Ah—I can get the easy ones about astrogation. They're simple. But it's the ones where I have to combine it with the power deck."

"Well—I mean—what specifically?" asked Tom softly.

"For instance, I've got to find the ratio for compression on the main firing tubes, using a given amount of fuel, heading for a given destination, and taking a given time for the passage."

"But that's control-deck operations—as well as astrogation and power!" exclaimed Tom.

"Yeah—I know," answered Astro, "but I've still got to be able to do it. If anything happened to you two guys and I didn't know how to get you home, then what?"

Tom hesitated. Astro was right. Each member of the unit had to depend on the other in any emergency. And if one of them failed...? Tom saw why the ground manuals were so important now.

"Look," offered Tom. "Suppose we go over the whole thing again together. Maybe you're fouled up on the basic concept."

Tom grabbed a chair, hitched it close to the desk and pulled Astro down beside him. He opened the book and began studying the problem.

"Now look—you have twenty-two tons of fuel—and considering the position of your ship in space—"

As the two boys, their shoulders hunched over the table, began reviewing the table of ratios, across the quadrangle in the examination hall Roger Manning stood in a replica of a rocket ship's radar bridge and faced Captain Strong.

"Cadet Manning reporting for manual examination, sir." Roger brought up his arm in a crisp salute to Captain Strong, who returned it casually.

"Stand easy, Manning," replied Strong. "Do you recognize this room?"

"Yes, sir. It's a mock-up of a radar bridge."

"A workable mock-up, cadet!" Strong was vaguely irritated by Roger's nonchalance in accepting a situation that Tom had marveled at. "You will take your manuals here!"

"Yes, sir."

"On these tests you will be timed for both efficiency and speed and you'll use all the tables, charts and astrogation equipment that you'd find in a spaceship. Your problems are purely mathematical. There are no decisions to make. Just use your head."

Strong handed Roger several sheets of paper containing written problems. Roger shuffled them around in his fingers, giving each a quick glance.

"You may begin any time you are ready, Manning," said Strong.

"I'm ready now, sir," replied Roger calmly. He turned to the swivel chair located between the huge communications board, the adjustable chart table and the astrogation prism. Directly in front of him was the huge radar scanner, and to one side and overhead was a tube mounted on a swivel joint that looked like a small telescope, but which was actually an astrogation prism for taking sights on the celestial bodies in space.

Roger concentrated on the first problem.

" ... you are now in the northwest quadrant of Mars, chart M, area twenty-eight. You have been notified by the control deck that it has been necessary to jettison three quarters of your fuel supply. For the last five hundred and seventy-nine seconds you have been blasting at one-quarter space speed. The four main drive rockets were cut out at thirty-second intervals. Making adjustment for degree of slip on each successive rocket cutout, find present position by using cross-fix with Regulus as your starboard fix, Alpha Centauri as your port fix."

Suddenly a bell began to ring in front of Roger. Without hesitation he adjusted a dial that brought the radar scanner into focus. When the screen remained blank, he made a second adjustment, and then a third and fourth, until the bright white flash of a meteor was seen on the scanner. He quickly grabbed two knobs, one in each hand, and twisted them to move two thin, plotting lines, one horizontal and one vertical, across the surface of the scanner. Setting the vertical line, he fingered a tabulating machine with his right hand, as he adjusted the second line with his left, thus cross-fixing the meteor. Then he turned his whole attention to the tabulator, ripped off the answer with lightning moves of his fingers and began talking rapidly into the microphone.

"Radar bridge to control deck! Alien body bearing zero-one-five, one-point-seven degrees over plane of the ecliptic. On intersecting orbit. Change course two degrees, hold for fifteen seconds, then resume original heading. Will compensate for change nearer destination!"

Roger watched the scanner a moment longer. When the rumbling blast of the steering jets sounded in the chamber and the meteor flash shifted on the scanner screen, he returned to the problem in his hand.

Seven minutes later he turned to Strong and handed him the answer.

"Present position by dead reckoning is northwest quadrant of Mars, chart O, area thirty-nine, sir," he announced confidently.



Strong tried to mask his surprise, but a lifted eyebrow gave him away. "And how did you arrive at this conclusion, Manning?"

"I was unable to get a sight on Alpha Centauri due to the present position of Jupiter, sir," replied Roger easily. "So I took a fix on Earth, allowed for its rotational speed around the sun and took the cross-fix with Regulus as ordered in the problem. Of course, I included all the other factors of the speed and heading of our ship. That was routine."

Strong accepted the answer with a curt nod, motioning for Roger to continue. It would not do, thought Strong, to let Manning know that he was the first cadet in thirty-nine years to make the correct selection of Earth in working up the fix with Regulus, and still have the presence of mind to plot a meteor without so much as a half-degree error. Of course the problem varied with each cadet, but it remained essentially the same.

"Seven-and-a-half minutes. Commander Walters will be surprised, to say the least," thought Steve.

Forty-five minutes later, Roger, as unruffled as if he had been sitting listening to a lecture from a sound slide, handed in the rest of his papers, executed a sharp salute and walked out.

"Two down and one to go," thought Strong, and the toughest one of them all coming up. Astro. The big Venusian was unable to understand anything that couldn't be turned with a wrench. The only thing that would prevent Unit 42-D from taking Academy unit honors over Unit 77-K, the unit assigned to Lieutenant Wolcheck, would be Astro. While none of the members of the other units could come up to the individual brilliance of Corbett or Manning, they worked together as a unit, helping one another. They might make a higher unit rating, simply because they were better balanced.

He shrugged his shoulders and collected the papers. It was as much torture for him, as it was for any cadet, he thought, and turned to the door. "All right, Astro," he said to himself, "in ten minutes it'll be your turn and I'm going to make it tough!"

Back in the quarters of Unit 42-D, Tom and Astro still pored over the books and papers on the desk.

"Let's try again, Astro," sighed Tom as he hitched his chair closer to the desk. "You've got thirty tons of fuel—you want to find the compression ratio of the number-one firing-tube chamber—so what do you do?"

"Start up the auxiliary, burn a little of the stuff and judge what it'll be," the big cadet replied. "That's the way I did it on the space freighters."

"But you're not on a space freighter now!" exclaimed Tom. "You've got to do things the way they want it done here at the Academy. By the book! These tables have been figured out by great minds to help you, and you just want to burn a little of the stuff and guess at what it'll be!" Tom threw up his hands in disgust.

"Seems to me I heard of an old saying back in the teen centuries about leading a horse to water, but not being able to make him drink!" drawled Roger from the doorway. He strolled in and kicked at the crumpled sheets of paper that littered the floor, stark evidence of Tom's efforts with Astro.

"All right, wise guy," said Tom, "suppose you explain it to him!"

"No can do," replied Roger. "I tried. I explained it to him twenty times this morning while you were taking your control-deck manual." He tapped his head delicately with his forefinger. "Can't get through—too thick!"

Astro turned to the window to hide the mist in his eyes.

"Lay off, Roger," snapped Tom. He got up and walked over to the big cadet. "Come on, Astro, we haven't got much time. You're due in the examination hall in a few minutes."

"It's no good, Tom, I just can't understand that stuff." Astro turned and faced his unit-mates, his voice charged with sudden emotion. "Just fifteen minutes on the power deck of anything with rockets in her and I'll run her from here to the next galaxy. I—I can't explain it, but when I look at those motors, I can read 'em like you read an astrogation chart, Roger, or you the gauges on the control deck, Tom. But I just can't get those ratios out of a book. I gotta put my hands on those motors—touch 'em—I mean really touch 'em—then I know what to do!"

As suddenly as he had started, he stopped and turned, leaving Tom and Roger staring at him, startled by this unusual outburst.

"Cadets—stand to!" roared a voice from the doorway.

The three cadets snapped to attention and faced the entrance.

"Take it easy, Earthworms!" said Tony Richards. A tall cadet with closely cut black hair and a lazy, smiling face stood in the doorway.

"Lay off, Richards," said Tom. "We haven't time for gags now. Astro's going to take his power-deck manual in a few minutes and we're cramming with him."

"O.K.—O.K.—don't blow your jets," said Richards. "I just wanted to see if there were any bets on which unit would cop honors in the manuals this afternoon."

"I suppose you think your Unit 77-K will finish on top?" drawled Roger.

"I'd like to bet all the galley demerits we have in 77-K against yours."

"With Astro on our team?" complained Roger.

"What's the matter with Astro?" asked Richards. "From what I hear, he's hot stuff!" It wasn't a compliment, but a sharp dig made with a sly smile. Astro balled his huge hands into fists.

"Astro," said Roger, "is the type that can smell out trouble on any power deck. But today he came down with a cold. No, I'm afraid it's no bet, Richards."

"I'll give you two to one," Richards offered.

"Nothing doing," replied Roger. "Not even at five to one. Not with Astro."

Richards grinned, nodded and disappeared.

Roger turned to face the hard stare of Tom.

"That was the dirtiest sellout I've ever heard, Manning," Tom growled.

"Sorry, Corbett," said Roger. "I only bet on sure things."

"That's O.K. with me, Manning," said Astro, "but I'm afraid you sold yourself a hot rocket, because I'm going to pass!"

"Who are you kidding?" Roger laughed and sprawled on his bunk.

Astro took a quick step forward, his fists clenched, his face a mask of burning anger, but Tom quickly jumped in front of him.

"You'll be late for the exam, Astro!" he shouted. "Get going or it'll count against your mark!"

"Huh. What's a few points more or less when you're going to fail anyway," snorted Roger from the bunk.

Again, Astro started to lunge forward and Tom braced himself against the Venusian's charge, but suddenly the burly cadet stopped. Disengaging Tom's restraining arms, he spoke coldly to the sneering boy on the bed.

"I'm going to pass the exam, Manning. Get that? I'm going to pass and then come back and beat your head off!" Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room.

Tom immediately wheeled to face Roger, fire in his eyes, and the arrogant cadet, sensing trouble, jumped to his feet to meet him.

"What's the idea of giving Astro a hard time?" demanded Tom.

"Cool off, Corbett," replied Roger warily. "You're fusing your tubes you're so hot."

"You bet I'm hot! Hot enough to blast you—again!" Tom deliberately spat out the last word.

Roger flushed and brought his fists up quickly as though to charge in, then suddenly dropped them again. He turned to the door and slowly walked out.

"Go blow your jets," his voice drifted back to Tom as he disappeared.

Tom stood there, looking at the empty door, almost blind with rage and frustration. He was failing in the main job assigned to him, that of keeping the unit on an even keel and working together. How could he command a crew out in space if he couldn't keep the friction of his own unit under control?

Slowly, he left the room to wait for Astro in the recreation hall where the results of the manuals would be announced. He thought of Astro, now probably deep in his exam, and wondered how bad it would be for him. Then another thought crossed his mind. Roger had said nothing of his own test and neither he nor Astro had even inquired.

He shook his head. No matter where the unit placed in the manuals, it just couldn't stay together.



CHAPTER 7

It was customary for all Earthworm cadets to gather in the main recreation hall to wait for the results of the manuals which would be announced on the huge teleceiver screen. Since all the units were taking their tests that afternoon, the hall was crowded with green-clad cadets, talking in low murmurs and waiting tensely for the outcome of the exam.

Tom entered the huge room, looked around and then drifted toward Al Dixon, the senior cadet who had greeted them as a unit after passing classification tests. The blue-clad cadet was listening to a story spool, a device that told a story, rather than let the person read it from a book.

"Hiya, Corbett," said Dixon, smiling. "Drag up a chair. Listening to a terrific yarn about a guy stranded on an asteroid and then he finds—" The redheaded cadet's voice trailed off when he noticed that Tom wasn't listening.

"Say, what's the matter with you? You look like you just lost your best friend."

"Not yet, but it won't be long now," commented Tom, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice. "Astro's taking his power-deck manual. What he knows about those compression ratios just isn't known. But he just can't get it on paper."

"Don't sell your unit-mate short," said Dixon, sensing something beneath Tom's comment. "I've heard that big fellow knows more about a rocket deck than McKenny."

"Yeah, that's true," said Tom, "but—"

"You know, Corbett," said Dixon, switching off the story spool, "there's something screwy in that outfit of yours."

"You can say that again," agreed Tom bitterly.

"You come in here with a face dragging on the floor, and Manning—"

Tom's head jerked up. "Manning! What about that space-gassing hot-shot?"

"—Manning just tore through the rec hall trying to get some of the other Earthworm units to bet their galley demerits against your outfit."

Tom's mouth sagged open. "You mean, he actually wanted to bet that Astro would pass?"

"Not just pass, Corbett, but he wanted to bet that your unit would be top rocket of the Earthworms! The head of the list!"

"But he told Astro that—" he stopped.

"Told him what?" Dixon asked.

"Ah—nothing—nothing—" said Tom. He jumped up and headed for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To find Manning. There are a couple of things I want to clear up."

Tom left Dixon shaking his head in bewilderment and jumped on the slidestairs. He was going to have it out with Roger once and for all. Hopping off the slidestairs onto the forty-second floor, he started down the long hall to his quarters.

Nearing the door, he heard Roger's laugh, and then his lazy voice talking to someone inside.

"Sure, they're dumb, but they're not bad guys," said Roger.

Tom walked into the room. Roger was sitting on the side of his bunk facing Tony Richards.

"Hiya, Corbett," said Roger, "did you hear how Astro made out yet?"

Tom ignored the question.

"I want to talk to you, Roger."

Roger eyed him suspiciously. "Sure, Corbett, go ahead."

"Well, I'll be going along," said Richards. He had heard about the previous fight between Manning and Corbett and didn't want to be hauled up as a witness later if they started again. "Remember, Manning," he called from the doorway, "the bet is two to one, and are you going to get tired of washing pots and pans!" He waved his hand at Corbett and disappeared.

"All right, Corbett," Roger turned to Tom. "What's frying you?"

"I just saw Al Dixon down in the rec hall," answered Tom. "He told me you were looking for bets on the unit ratings. Is that why Richards was here?"

"That's right," nodded Roger.

"What made you say the things you did to Astro before he went for his manual?"

"Very simple. I wanted to make him pass and that was the only way."

"You're pretty sure of yourself, Roger."

"I'm always sure of myself, Corbett. And the sooner you learn that, the easier it'll be for all of us. I never bet unless it's in the bag. I know Astro's going to pass. Some guys have to have a fire built under them before they get moving. Astro's one of them."

"That doesn't answer my question," said Tom. "Why did you say the things you did before a guy goes to take an exam?"

"I said what I did to make Tony Richards give me odds. And to make Astro mad enough to pass. We're a cinch to win and Richards' outfit will be indebted to us for a year's worth of galley demerits." He smiled easily. "Smooth, huh?"

"I think it's rotten," said Tom. "Astro left here feeling like a plugged credit! And if he does fail, it'll be because you made him think he was the dumbest guy in the universe!"

"He probably is," mused Roger, "but he still won't fail that manual."

From the hallway behind them, a loud blasting yell was suddenly heard, echoing from somewhere on the lower floors. Tom and Roger waited, their eyes wide and hopeful. There was only one person at Space Academy capable of making such a noise.

"He made it!" Tom exclaimed.

"Of course he made it," said Roger casually.

Astro tore into 42-D with a mad rush.

"Yeeeoooooowwww!" He grabbed the two cadets and picked them up, one in each hand. "I made it—hands down—I handled those rocket motors like they were babes in arms! I told you that all I had to do was touch them and I'd know! I told you!"

"Congratulations, Astro," said Tom with a wide grin. "I knew you'd do it."

"Put me down, you oversized Venusian jerk," said Roger, almost good-naturedly. Astro released the smaller cadet and faced him.

"Well, hot-shot, I promised you something when I got back, didn't I?"

"Make it later, will you, and I'll be glad to oblige." He walked toward the door. "I've got to go down and collect a bet."

"What bet?" asked Astro.

"With Tony Richards."

"But I thought you were afraid to bet on me!"

"Not at all, Astro. I just wanted to make you mad enough to ensure my winning."

"That sounds like you were more worried about your bet than you were about Astro passing," snapped Tom.

"You're exactly right, spaceboy," purred Roger, standing in the doorway.

"That's our boy, Manning," growled Astro. "The great team man!"

"Team?" Roger took a step back into the room. "Don't make me laugh, Astro. For your information, tomorrow morning I'm putting in for a transfer to another unit!"

"What!" exclaimed Tom. "You can't trans—"

"Yes, I can," interrupted Roger. "Read your Academy regs. Anyone can request a transfer once the unit has passed its manuals."

"And what excuse are you going to use," snapped Astro bitterly. "That you can't take it?"

"A personality difference, Astro, my boy. You hate me and I hate you. It's a good enough reason, I think."

"It's just as well, hot-shot," replied Astro. "Because if you don't transfer, we will!"

Roger merely smiled, flipped his fingers to his forehead in an arrogant gesture of farewell and turned to leave again. But his path was blocked by the sudden appearance of Captain Steve Strong. The three cadets quickly braced.

The Solar Guard officer strode into the room, his face beaming. He looked at each of the boys, pride shining out of his eyes, and then brought his hand up and held it in salute.

"I just want to tell you boys one thing," he said solemnly. "It's the highest compliment I can pay you, or anyone." He paused. "All three of you are real spacemen!"

Tom and Astro couldn't repress smiles, but Roger's expression never changed.

"Then we passed as a unit, sir?" asked Tom eagerly.

"Not only passed, Corbett"—Strong's voice boomed in the small room—"but with honors. You're the top rockets of this Earthworm group! I'm proud to be your commanding officer!"

Again Tom and Astro fought back smiles of happiness and even Roger managed a small grin.

"This is the fightingest group of cadets I've ever seen," Strong continued. "Frankly, I was a little worried about your ability to pull together but the results of the manuals showed that you have. You couldn't have made it without working as a unit."

Strong failed to notice Roger's face darken, and Tom and Astro look at each other meaningfully.

"My congratulations for having solved that problem too!" Strong saluted them again and walked toward the door, where he paused. "By the way, I want you to report to the Academy spaceport tomorrow at eight hundred hours. Warrant Officer McKenny has something out there he wants to show you."

Tom's eyes bugged out and he stepped forward.

"Sir," he gasped, scarcely able to get the question past his lips, "you don't mean we're—we're going to—"

"You're absolutely right, Corbett. There's a brand-new rocket cruiser out there. Your ship. Your future classroom. You'll report to her in the blues of the Space Cadets! And from now on your unit identification is the name of your ship! The rocket cruiser Polaris!"

A second later, Strong had vanished down the corridor, leaving Tom and Astro hugging each other and clapping each other on the back in delirious joy.

Roger merely stood to one side, a sarcastic smile on his face.

"And now, as we prepare to face the unknown dangers of space," he said bitingly, "let us unite our voices and sing the Academy hymn together! Huh!" He strode toward the door. "Don't they ever get tired of waving that flag around here?"

Before Tom and Astro could reply, he had disappeared. The big Venusian shrugged his shoulders. "I just don't understand that guy!"

But Tom failed to reply. He had turned toward the window and was staring out past the gleaming white Tower of Galileo into the slowly darkening skies of evening to the east. For the moment, the problems of Roger Manning and the unit were far away. He was thinking of the coming morning when he would dress in the blues of a Space Cadet for the first time and step into his own ship as command pilot. He was thinking of the morning when he would be a real spaceman!



CHAPTER 8

The campus of Space Academy was quiet that evening. Only a few cadets were still out on the quadrangle, lounging around in the open before returning to their quarters for bed-check.

On the forty-second floor of the dormitory building, two thirds of the newly formed Polaris unit, Tom and Astro, were in heated argument.

"All right, all right, so the guy is brilliant," said Astro. "But who can live with him? Not even himself!"

"Maybe he is a little difficult," replied Tom, "but somehow, we've got to adjust to him!"

"How about him adjusting to us? It's two against one!" Astro shambled to the window and looked out moodily. "Besides, he's putting in for a transfer and there's nothing we can do about it!"

"Maybe he won't now—not after that little speech Captain Strong made this afternoon."

"If he doesn't, then, blast it, I will!"

"Aw, now take it easy, Astro!"

"Take it easy, nothing!" Astro was building up a big head of steam. "Where is that space crawler right now?"

"I don't know. He never came back. Wasn't even down at mess tonight."

"There, that's just what I mean!" Astro turned to Tom to press his point. "It's close to bed-check and he isn't in quarters yet. If the MP's catch him outside after hours, the whole unit will be logged and there goes our chance of blasting off tomorrow!"

"But there's still time, Astro," replied Tom lamely.

"Not much there isn't. It just shows you what he thinks of the unit! He just doesn't care!" Astro paced the floor angrily. "There's only one thing to do! He gets his transfer—or we do! Or—" he paused and looked at Tom meaningfully, "or I do."

"You're not thinking, Astro," argued Tom. "How will that look on your record? Every time there's a trip into deep space, they yank out your file to see how you operate under pressure with other guys. When they see that you asked for a transfer from your unit, that's it!"

"Yeah—yeah—I know—incompatible—but honest, Tom—"

The curly-haired cadet felt his big friend weaken and he pressed his advantage.

"It isn't every day that a unit gets a ship right after finishing ground manuals. Captain Strong said he waited for four months after manuals before getting his first hop into space."

"Yeah—but what do you think it's going to be like out in space with Manning making sour cracks all the time?"

Tom hesitated before answering his Venusian friend. He was fully aware that Roger was going to play a lone hand. And that they would never really have unity among them until some drastic measure was taken. After all, Tom thought, some guys don't have good hearts, or eyes, a defect to prevent them from becoming spacemen. Roger is just mixed up inside. And the handicap is just as real as if he had a physical flaw.

"Well, what do you want to do?" asked Tom finally.

"Go see Captain Strong. Give it to him straight. Tell him we want a transfer."

"But tomorrow we blast off. We might not have another chance for months! Certainly not until we get a new astrogator."

"I'd rather wait and have a guy on the radar bridge I know isn't going to pull something behind my back," said Astro, "than blast off tomorrow with Manning aboard."

Again Tom hesitated. He knew what Astro was saying was the truth. Life, so far, at the Academy had been tough enough, but with mutual dependence and security even more important out in space, the danger of their constant friction was obvious.

"O.K.," he relented, "if that's the way you really want it. Come on. We'll go see Captain Strong now."

"You go," said Astro. "You know how I feel. Whatever you say goes for me too."

"Are you sure you want to do it?" asked Tom. He knew what such a request would mean. A black mark against Roger for being rejected by his unit-mates and a black mark against Astro and himself for not being able to adjust. Regardless of who was right and who was wrong, there would always be a mark on their records.

"Look, Tom," said Astro, "if I thought it was only me I'd keep my mouth shut. But you'd let Manning get away with murder because you wouldn't want to be the one to get him into trouble."

"No, I wouldn't," said Tom. "I think Roger would make a fine spaceman; he's certainly smart enough, and a good unit-mate if he'd only snap out of it. But I can't let him or anyone else stop me from becoming a spaceman or a member of the Solar Guard."

"Then you'll go see Captain Strong?"

"Yes," said Tom. If he had been in doubt before, now that he had made the decision, he felt relieved. He slipped on his space boots and stood up. The two boys looked at each other, each realizing the question in the other's mind.

"No!" said Tom decisively. "It's better for everyone. Even Roger. He might find two other guys that will fit him better." He walked from the room.

The halls were silent as he strode toward the slidestairs that would take him to the nineteenth floor and Captain Strong's quarters. Passing one room after another, he glanced in and saw other units studying, preparing for bed, or just sitting around talking. There weren't many units left. The tests had taken a toll of the Earthworms. But those that remained were solidly built. Already friendships had taken deep root. Tom found himself wishing he had become a member of another unit. Where the comradeship was taken for granted in other units, he was about to make a request to dissolve his because of friction.

Completely discouraged, Tom stepped on the slidestairs and started down.

As he left the dormitory floors, the noise of young cadet life was soon lost and he passed floors containing offices and apartments of the administration staff of the Solar Guard.

As he drew level with the floor that was Galaxy Hall, he glanced at the lighted plaque and for the hundredth time reread the inscription—

" ... to the brave men who sacrificed their lives in the conquest of space, this Galaxy Hall is dedicated...."

Something moved in the darkness of the hall. Tom strained his eyes for a closer look and just managed to distinguish the figure of a cadet standing before the wreckage of the Space Queen. Funny, thought Tom. Why should anyone be wandering around the hall at this time of night? And then, as the floor slipped past, the figure turned slightly and was illuminated by the dim light that came from the slidestairs. Tom recognized the sharp features and close-cropped blond hair of Roger Manning!



Quickly changing over to the slidestairs going up, Tom slipped back to the hall floor and stepped off. Roger was still standing in front of the Space Queen!

Tom started to speak, but stopped when he saw Roger take out a handkerchief and dab at his eyes.

The movements of the other boy were crystal-clear to Tom. Roger was crying! Standing in front of the Space Queen and crying!

He kept watching as Roger put away the handkerchief, saluted sharply and turned toward the slidestairs. Ducking behind a glass case that held the first space suit ever used, Tom held his breath as Roger passed him. He could hear Roger mumble.

"They got you—but they won't get me with any of that glory stuff!"

Tom waited, heart racing, trying to figure out what Roger meant, and why he was here alone in Galaxy Hall. Finally the blond cadet disappeared up the moving stair.

Tom didn't go to see Captain Strong. Instead, he returned to his room.

"So quick?" asked Astro.

Tom shook his head. "Where's Roger?" he asked.

"In the shower." Astro gestured to the bathroom, where Tom could hear the sound of running water. "What made you change your mind about seeing Captain Strong?" asked Astro.

"I think we've misjudged Roger, Astro," said Tom slowly. And then related what he had seen and heard.

"Well, blast my jets!" exclaimed Astro, when Tom had finished. "What's behind it, do you think?"

"I don't know, Astro. But I'm convinced that any guy that'll visit Galaxy Hall by himself late at night—and cry—well, he couldn't be entirely off base, regardless of what he does."

Astro studied his work-hardened palms.

"You wanta keep it this way for a while?" he asked. "I mean, forget about talking to Captain Strong?"

"Roger's the best astrogator and radar man in the Academy, Astro. There's something bothering him. But I'm willing to bet that whatever it is, Roger will work it out. And if we're really unit-mates, then we won't sell him out now, when he may need us most."

"That's it, then," said Astro. "I'll kill him with kindness. Come on. Let's turn in. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow!"

The two boys began to prepare for bed. Roger came out of the shower wearing pajamas.

"All excited, spacemen?" he drawled, leaning against the wall, brushing his short hair.

"About as excited as we can get, Roger," smiled Tom.

"Yeah, you space-blasting jerk!" growled Astro good-naturedly. "Turn out the lights before I introduce you to my space boot."

Roger eyed the two cadets quizzically, puzzled by the strange good humor of both boys. He shrugged his shoulders, flipped out the light and crawled into bed.

But if he could have seen the satisfied smile of Tom Corbett, Roger would have been even more puzzled.

"We'll just kill him with kindness," thought Tom, and fell fast asleep.



CHAPTER 9

The three members of the Polaris unit stepped off the slidewalk at the Academy spaceport and stood before Warrant Officer McKenny.

"There she is," said the stubby spaceman, pointing to the gleaming spaceship resting not two hundred feet away. "Rocket cruiser Polaris. The newest and fastest ship in space."

He faced the three boys with a smile. "And she's all yours. You earned her!"

Mouths open, Tom, Roger and Astro stood gaping in fascination at the mighty spaceship resting on the concrete ramp. Her long two-hundred-foot polished beryllium steel hull mirrored the spaceport scene around them. The tall buildings of the Academy, the "ready" line of space destroyers and scouts, and the hundreds of maintenance noncoms of the enlisted Solar Guard, their scarlet uniforms spotted with grime, were all reflected back to the Polaris unit as they eyed the sleek ship from the needlelike nose of her bow to the stubby opening of her rocket exhausts. Not a seam or rivet could be seen in her hull. At the top of the ship, near her nose, a large blister made of six-inch clear crystal indicated the radar bridge. Twelve feet below it, six round window ports showed the position of the control deck. Surrounding the base of the ship was an aluminum scaffold with a ladder over a hundred feet high anchored to it. The top rung of the ladder just reached the power-deck emergency hatch which was swung open, like a giant plug, revealing the thickness of the hull, nearly a foot.

"Well," roared the red-clad spaceman, "don't you want to climb aboard and see what your ship looks like inside?"

"Do we!" cried Tom, and made a headlong dash for the scaffold. Astro let out one of his famous yells and followed right at his heels. Roger watched them running ahead and started off at a slow walk, but suddenly, no longer able to resist, he broke into a dead run. Those around the Polaris stopped their work to watch the three cadets scramble up the ladder. Most of the ground crew were ex-spacemen like McKenny, no longer able to blast off because of acceleration reaction. And they smiled knowingly, remembering their reactions to their first spaceship.

Inside the massive cruiser, the boys roamed over every deck, examining the ship excitedly.

"Say look at this!" cried Tom. He stood in front of the control board and ran his hands over the buttons and switches. "This board makes the manual we worked on at the Academy look like it's ready for Galaxy Hall!"

"Yeeeooooooww!" Three decks below, Astro had discovered the rocket motors. Four of the most powerful ever installed on a spaceship, enabling the Polaris to outrace any ship in space.

Roger stuck his head through the radar-bridge hatch and gazed in awe at the array of electronic communicators, detection radar and astrogation gear. With lips pulled into a thin line, he mumbled to himself: "Too bad they didn't give you this kind of equipment."

"What'd you say, Roger?" asked Astro, climbing alongside to peer into the radar bridge.

Startled, Roger turned and stammered, "Ah—nothing—nothing."

Looking around, Astro commented, "This place looks almost as good as that power deck."

"Of course," said Roger, "they could have placed that astrogation prism a little closer to the chart table. Now I'll have to get up every time I want to take sights on stars!"

"Don't you ever get tired of complaining?" asked Astro.

"Ah—rocket off," snarled Roger.

"Hey, you guys," yelled Tom from below, "better get down here! Captain Strong's coming aboard."

Climbing back down the ladder to the control deck, Astro leaned over his shoulder and asked Roger, "Do you really think he'll let us take this baby up for a hop, Manning?"

"Get your head out of that cloud, Astro. You'll pull about three weeks of dry runs before this baby gets five inches off the ground."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, Manning!" Strong's voice boomed out as he climbed up through the control-deck hatch. The three boys immediately snapped to attention.

Strong walked around the control deck, fingering the controls lightly.

"This is a fine ship," he mused aloud. "One of the finest that scientific brains can build. She's yours. The day you graduate from the Academy, IF you graduate, and I can think of about a thousand reasons why you won't, you'll command an armed rocket cruiser similar to this. As a matter of fact, the only difference between this ship and those that patrol the space lanes now is in the armament."

"Don't we have any arms aboard at all, sir?" asked Tom.

"Small arms, like paralo-ray pistols and paralo-ray rifles. Plus four atomic war heads for emergency use," replied Strong.

Seeing a puzzled expression cross Astro's face, the Solar Guard officer continued, "You haven't studied armament yet, Astro, but paralo rays are the only weapons used by law-enforcement agencies in the Solar Alliance. They work on a principle of controlled energy, sending out a ray with an effective range of fifty yards that can paralyze the nervous system of any beast or human."

"And it doesn't kill, sir?" inquired Astro.

"No, Astro," replied Strong. "Paralyzing a man is just as effective as killing him. The Solar Alliance doesn't believe you have to kill anyone, not even the most vicious criminal. Freeze him and capture him, and you still have the opportunity of making him a useful citizen."

"But if you can't?" inquired Roger dryly.

"Then he's kept on the prison asteroid where he can't harm anyone." Strong turned away abruptly. "But this isn't the time for a general discussion. We've got work to do!"

He walked over to the master control panel and switched the teleceiver screen. There was a slight buzz, and a view of the spaceport outside the ship suddenly came into focus, filling the screen. Strong flipped a switch and a view aft on the Polaris filled the glowing square. The aluminum scaffolding was being hauled away by a jet truck. Again the view changed as Strong twisted the dials in front of him.

"Just scanning the outside, boys," he commented. "Have to make sure there isn't anyone near the ship when we blast off. The rocket exhaust is powerful enough to blow a man two hundred feet, to say nothing of burning him to death."

"You mean, sir—" began Tom, not daring to hope.

"Of course, Corbett," smiled Strong. "Take your stations for blast-off. We raise ship as soon as we get orbital clearance from spaceport control!"

Without waiting for further orders, the three boys scurried to their stations.

Soon the muffled whine of the energizing pumps on the power deck began to ring through the ship, along with the steady beep of the radar scanner on the radar bridge. Tom checked the maze of gauges and dials on the control board. Air locks, hatches, oxygen supply, circulating system, circuits, and feeds. In five minutes the two-hundred-foot shining steel hull was a living thing as her rocket motors purred, warming up for the initial thrust.

Tom made a last sweeping check of the complicated board and turned to Captain Strong who stood to one side watching.

"Ship ready to blast off, sir," he announced. "Shall I check stations and proceed to raise ship?"

"Carry on, Cadet Corbett," Strong replied. "Log yourself in as skipper with me along as supercargo. I'll ride in the second pilot's chair."

Tom snapped a sharp salute and added vocally, "Aye, aye, sir!"

He turned back to the control board, strapped himself into the command pilot's seat and opened the circuit to the spaceport control tower.

"Rocket cruiser Polaris to spaceport control," he droned into the microphone. "Check in!"

"Spaceport control to Polaris," the voice of the tower operator replied. "You are cleared for blast-off in two minutes. Take out—orbit 75 ... repeat ... 75...."

"Polaris to spaceport control. Orders received and understood. End transmission!"

Tom then turned his attention to the station check.

"Control deck to radar deck. Check in."

"Radar deck, aye! Ready to raise ship." Roger's voice was relaxed, easy.

Tom turned to the board to adjust the teleceiver screen for a clear picture of the stern of the ship. Gradually it came up in as sharp detail as if he had been standing on the ground.

He checked the electric timing device in front of him that ticked off the seconds, as a red hand crawled around to zero, and when it swept down to the thirty-second mark, Tom pulled the microphone to his lips again. "Control deck to power deck. Check in!"

"Power deck, aye?"

"Energize the cooling pumps!"

"Cooling pumps, aye!" repeated Astro.

"Feed reactant!"

"Reactant at D-9 rate."

From seventy feet below them, Strong and Tom heard the hiss of the reactant mass feeding into the rocket motors, and the screeching whine of the mighty pumps that kept the mass from building too rapidly and exploding.

The second hand swept up to the twenty-second mark.

"Control deck to radar deck," called Tom. "Do we have a clear trajectory forward?"

"All clear forward and overhead," replied Roger.

Tom placed his hand on the master switch that would throw the combined circuits, instruments and gauges into the single act of blasting the mighty ship into space. His eyes glued to the sweeping hand, he counted past the twelve-second mark—eleven—ten—nine—

"Stand by to raise ship," he bawled into the microphone. "Minus—five—four—three—two—one—zero!"

Tom threw the master switch.

There was a split-second pause and then the great ship roared into life. Slowly at first, she lifted her tail full of roaring jets free of the ground. Ten feet—twenty—fifty—a hundred—five hundred—a thousand—picking up speed at an incredible rate.

Tom felt himself being pushed deeper and deeper into the softness of the acceleration cushions. He had been worried about not being able to keep his eyes open to see the dwindling Earth in the teleceiver over his head, but the tremendous force of the rockets pushing him against gravity to tear the two hundred tons of steel away from the Earth's grip held his eyelids open for him. As the powerful rockets tore deeper into the gap that separated the ship from Earth, he saw the spaceport gradually grow smaller. The rolling hills around the Academy closed in, and then the Academy itself, with the Tower of Galileo shrinking to a white stick, was lost in the brown and green that was Earth. The rockets pushed harder and harder and he saw the needle of the acceleration gauge creep slowly up. Four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten miles a second!

When the awful crushing weight on his body seemed unbearable, when he felt as though he would never be able to draw another breath, suddenly the pressure lifted and Tom felt amazingly and wonderfully buoyant. He seemed to be floating in mid-air, his body rising against the webbed straps of his chair! With a start and a momentary wave of panic, he realized that he was floating! Only the straps kept him from rising to the ceiling of the control room!

Recovering quickly, he realized that he was in free fall. The ship had cleared the pull of earth's gravity and was out in space where everything was weightless. Reaching toward the control panel, he flipped the switch for the synthetic-gravity generator and, seconds later, felt the familiar and reassuring sensation of the chair under him as the generator supplied an artificial-gravity field to the ship.

As he loosened the straps in his chair, he noticed Captain Strong rising from his position beside him and he grinned sheepishly in answer to the twinkle in Strong's eye.

"It's all right, Tom," reassured Strong. "Happens to everyone the first time. Carry on."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Tom and he turned to the microphone. "Control deck to all stations! We are in space! Observe standard cruise procedure!"

"Power deck, aye!" was Astro's blasting answer over the loud-speaker. "Yeeeoooww! Out where we belong at last."

"Radar bridge here," Roger's voice chimed in softly on the speaker. "Everything under control. And, Astro, you belong in a zoo if you're going to bellow like that!"

"Ahhh—rocket off, bubblehead!" The big Venusian's reply was good-natured. He was too happy to let Roger get under his skin.

"All right, you two," interrupted Tom. "Knock it off. We're on a ship now. Let's cut the kindergarten stuff!"

"Aye, aye, skipper!" Astro was irrepressible.

"Yes, sir!" Roger's voice was soft but Tom recognized the biting edge to the last word.

Turning away from the controls, he faced Captain Strong who had been watching quietly.

"Polaris space-borne at nine hundred thirty-three hours, Captain Strong. All stations operating efficiently."

"Very competent job, Corbett," nodded Strong in approval. "You handled the ship as if you'd been doing it for years."

"Thank you, sir."

"We'll just cruise for a while on this orbit so you boys can get the feel of the ship and of space." The Solar Guard officer took Tom's place in the command pilot's chair. "You knock off for a while. Go up to the radar bridge and have a look around. I'll take over here."

"Yes, sir." Tom turned and had to restrain himself from racing up the ladder to the radar bridge. When he climbed through the hatch to Roger's station, he found his unit-mate tilted back in his chair, staring through the crystal blister over his head.

"Hiya, spaceboy," smiled Roger. He indicated the blister. "Take a look at the wide, deep and high."

Tom looked up and saw the deep blackness that was space.

"It's like looking into a mirror, Roger," he breathed in awe. "Only there isn't any other side—no reflection. It just doesn't stop, does it?"

"Nope," commented Roger, "it just goes on and on and on. And no one knows where it stops. And no one can even guess."

"Ah—you've got a touch of space fever," laughed Astro. "You'd better take it easy, pal."

Tom suppressed a smile. Now, for the first time, he felt that there was a chance to achieve unity among them. Kill him with kindness, he thought, that's the way to do it.

"All right, boys!" Captain Strong's voice crackled over the speaker. "Time to pull in your eyeballs and get to work again. We're heading back to the spaceport! Take your stations for landing!"

Tom and Astro immediately jumped toward the open hatch and started scrambling down the ladder toward their respective stations while Roger strapped himself into his chair in front of the astrogation panel.

Within sixty seconds the ship was ready for landing procedure and at a nod from Captain Strong, who again strapped himself into the second pilot's chair, Tom began the delicate operation.

Entering Earth's atmosphere, Tom gave a series of rapid orders for course changes and power adjustments, and then, depressing the master turn control, spun the ship around so that she would settle stern first toward her ramp at the Academy spaceport.

"Radar deck to control deck," called Roger over the intercom. "One thousand feet to touchdown!"

"Control deck, aye," answered Tom. "Control deck to power deck. Check in."

"Power deck, aye," replied Astro.

"Stand by to adjust thrust to maximum drive at my command," ordered Tom.

"Power deck, aye."

The great ship, balanced perfectly on the hot exhaust, slowly slipped toward the ground.

"Five hundred feet to touchdown," warned Roger.

"Main rockets full blast," ordered Tom.

The sudden blast of the powerful jets slowed the descent of the ship, and finally, fifty feet above the ground, Tom snapped out another order.

"Cut main rockets! Hold auxiliary!"

A moment later there was a gentle bump and the Polaris rested on the ramp, her nose pointed to the heavens.

"Touchdown!" yelled Tom. "Cut everything, fellas, and come up and sign the log. We made it—our first hop into space! We're spacemen!"



CHAPTER 10

"The next event will be," Warrant Officer McKenny's voice boomed over the loud-speaker and echoed over the Academy stadium, "the last semifinal round of mercuryball. Polaris unit versus Arcturus unit."

As two thousand space cadets, crowded in the grandstands watching the annual academy tournament, rose to their feet and cheered lustily, Tom Corbett turned to his unit-mates Astro and Roger and called enthusiastically, "O.K., fellas. Let's go out there and show them how to play this game!"

During the two days of the tournament, Tom, Roger and Astro, competing as a unit against all the other academy units, had piled up a tremendous amount of points in all the events. But so had Unit 77-K, now known as the Capella unit. Now with the Capella unit already in the finals, the Polaris crew had to win their semifinal round against the Arcturus, in order to meet the Capella in the final round for Academy honors.

"This is going to be a cinch," boasted Astro. "I'm going to burn 'em up!"

"Save it for the field," said Tom with a smile.

"Yeah, you big Venusian ape," added Roger. "Make points instead of space gas."

Stripped to the waist, wearing shorts and soft, three-quarter-length space boots, the three boys walked onto the sun-baked field amid the rousing cheers from the stands. Across the field, the cadets of the Arcturus unit walked out to meet them, stopping beside McKenny at the mid-field line. Mike waited for the six boys to form a circle around him, while he held the mercuryball, a twelve-inch plastic sphere, filled with air and the tricky tube of mercury.

"You all know the rules," announced McKenny abruptly. "Head, shoulders, feet, knees, or any part of your body except your hands, can touch the ball. Polaris unit will defend the north goal," he said, pointing to a white chalk line fifty yards away, "Arcturus the south," and he pointed to a line equally distant in the opposite direction. "Five-minute periods, with one-minute rest between. All clear?"

As captain of the Polaris unit, Tom nodded, while smiling at the captain of the Arcturus team, a tow-headed boy with short chunky legs named Schohari.

"All clear, Mike," said Tom.

"All clear here, Mike," responded Schohari.

"All right, shake hands and take your places."

The six boys shook hands and jogged toward respective opposite lines. Mike waited for them to reach their goal lines, and then placed the ball in the middle of a chalk-drawn circle.

Toeing the line, Tom, Roger and Astro eyed the Arcturus crew and prepared for the dash to the ball.

"All right, fellas," urged Tom, "let's show them something!"

"Yeah," breathed Astro, "just let me get my size thirteens on that pumpkin before it starts twisting around!"

Astro wanted the advantage of the first kick at the ball while the mercury tube inside was still quiet. Once the mercury was agitated, the ball would be as easy to kick as a well-greased eel.

"We'll block for you, Astro," said Tom, "and you put every ounce of beef you've got into that first kick. If we're lucky, we might be able to get the jump on them!"

"Cut the chatter," snapped Roger nervously. "Baldy's ready to give us the go ahead!"

Standing on the side lines, Warrant Officer McKenny slowly raised his hand, and the crowd in the grandstand hushed in eager anticipation. A second passed and then there was a tremendous roar as he brought his hand down and blew heavily on the whistle.

Running as if their lives depended on it, the six cadets of the two units raced headlong toward the ball. Tom, just a little faster than Roger or Astro, flashed down the field and veered off to block the advancing Schohari. Roger, following him, charged into Swift, the second member of the Arcturus crew. Astro, a few feet in back of them, running with surprising speed for his size, saw that it was going to be a close race between himself and Allen, the third member of the Arcturus unit. He bowed his head and drove himself harder, the roar of the crowd filling his ears.

" ... Go Astro!... Go Astro!..."

Pounding down for the kick, Astro gauged his stride perfectly and with one last, mighty leap swung his right foot at the ball.

There was a loud thud drowned by a roar from the crowd as the ball sailed off the ground with terrific force. And then almost immediately there was another thud as Allen rose in a desperate leap to block the ball with his shoulder. It caromed off at a crazy angle, wobbling in its flight as the mercury within rolled from side to side. Swift, of the Arcturus crew, reached the ball first and sent it sailing at an angle over Tom's head to bounce thirty feet away. Seeing Astro charge the ball, Tom threw a block on Allen to knock him out of the play. The big Venusian, judging his stride to be a little off, shortened his steps to move in for the kick. But just as he brought his foot forward to make contact, the ball spun away to the left. Astro's foot continued in a perfect arc over his head, throwing him in a heap on the ground.

Two thousand voices from the stands roared in one peal of laughter.

While Astro lay on the ground with the wind knocked out of him, Schohari and Swift converged on the ball. With Astro down and Tom out of position, the Arcturus unit seemed certain of scoring. But again the ball rolled crazily, this time straight to Roger, the last defender. He nudged it between his opponents toward Tom, who, in turn, kicked it obliquely past Allen back to Roger again. Running with the grace and speed of an antelope, the blond cadet met the ball in mid-field, and when it dropped to the ground in front of him, sent it soaring across the goal with one powerful kick!

As the cadets in the stands sent up a tumultuous cheer for the perfectly executed play, the whistle blew, ending the period and the Polaris unit led, one to nothing.

Breathing deeply, Astro and Roger flopped down near Tom and stretched full length on the grass.

"That was a beautiful shot, Roger," said Tom. "Perfectly timed!"

"Yeah, hot-shot," agreed Astro, "I'm glad to see that big head of yours is good for something!"

"Listen, fellas," said Roger eagerly, ignoring Astro, "to go into the finals against Richards and the Capella unit, we've got to beat the Arcturus crew, right?"

"Yeah," agreed Tom, "and it won't be easy. We just happened to get the breaks."

"Then why don't we put the game on ice?" said Roger. "Freeze the ball! We got 'em one to nothing, that's enough to beat them. When the whistle blows and it's over, we win!"

Astro looked at Tom, who frowned and replied, "But we've still got three periods left, Roger. It isn't fair to freeze this early in the game. If it was the last minute or so, sure. But not so early. It just isn't fair."

"What do you want to do?" snarled Roger. "Win, or play fair?"

"Win, of course, but I want to win the right way," said Tom.

"How about you, Astro?" asked Roger.

"I feel the same way that Tom does," said the big cadet. "We can beat these guys easily—and on the square."

"You guys make it sound like I was cheating," snapped Roger.

"Well," said Tom, "it sure isn't giving the Arcturus guys a break."

The whistle blew for them to return to the goal line.

"Well," asked Roger, "do we freeze or don't we?"

"I don't want to. But majority always rules in this unit, Roger." Tom glanced at Astro. "How about it, Astro?"

"We can beat 'em fair and square. We play all out!" answered Astro.

Roger didn't say anything. He moved to one side and took his position for the dash down field.

The whistle blew again and the crowd roared as the two teams charged toward the ball. The cadets were eager to see if the Arcturus crew could tie the score or if the crew of the Polaris would increase its lead. But after a few moments of play, their cries of encouragement subsided into rumbles of discontent. In its eagerness to score, the Arcturus unit kept making errors and lost the ball constantly but the crew of the Polaris failed to capitalize. The second period ended with the score unchanged.

As he slumped to the ground for the rest period, Astro turned on Roger bitterly. "What's the idea, Manning? You're dogging it!"

"You play your game, Astro," replied Roger calmly, "I'll play mine."

"We're playing this game as a team, Roger," chimed in Tom heatedly. "You're kicking the ball all over the lot!"

"Yeah," added Astro. "In every direction except the goal!"

"I was never clear," defended Roger. "I didn't want to lose possession of the ball!"

"You sure didn't," said Tom. "You acted as if it was your best friend and you never wanted to be separated from it!"



"We said we didn't want to freeze this game, Roger, and we meant it!" Astro glowered at his unit-mate. "Next period you show us some action! If you don't want to score, feed it to us and we'll save you the trouble!"

But the third period was the same. While Tom and Astro dashed up and down the field, blocking out the members of the Arcturus crew to give Roger a clear shot, he simply nudged the ball back and forth between the side lines, ignoring his teammates' pleas to drive forward. As the whistle sounded for the end of the period, boos and catcalls from the grandstand filled the air.

Tom's face was an angry red as he faced Roger again on the side lines during the rest period.

"You hear that, Roger?" he growled, nodding his head toward the stands. "That's what they think of your smart playing!"

"What do I care?" replied the blond cadet arrogantly. "They're not playing this game! I am!"

"And we are too!" Astro's voice was a low rumble as he came up behind Manning. "If you don't give us a chance, so help me, I'll use your head for a ball!"



"If you're so interested in scoring, why don't you go after the ball yourselves then?" said Roger.

"Because we're too busy trying to be a team!" snapped Tom. "We're trying to clear shots for you!"

"Don't be so generous," sneered Roger.

"I'm warning you, Roger"—Astro glared at the arrogant cadet—"if you don't straighten out and fly right—"

McKenny's whistle from the far side lines suddenly sounded, interrupting the big cadet, and the three boys trooped back out on the field again. Again the air was filled with boos and shouts of derision and Tom's face flushed with shame.

This time, when McKenny's hand flashed downward, Tom streaked for the ball, instead of Schohari, his usual opponent. He measured his stride carefully and reached the ball in perfect kicking position.

He felt the satisfying thud against his foot, and saw the ball shoot out high in front of him and head for the goal line. It was a beautiful kick. But then, the ball suddenly sank, its flight altered by the action of the mercury. Running down field, Tom saw Swift and Allen meet the ball together. Allen blocked it with his chest and caromed it over to Swift. Swift let the ball drop to the ground, drawing his foot back to kick. But again, the mercury changed the ball's action, twisting it to one side and Swift's kick caught it on the side. Instead of the ball going down field, it veered to the left, in the path of Astro. Quickly getting his head under it, he shifted it to Roger, who streaked in and stopped it with his hip. But then, instead of passing ahead to Tom, who by now was down field and in the open, Roger prepared to kick for the goal himself.

Tom shouted a warning but it was too late. Schohari came rushing in behind him, and at running stride, met the ball squarely with his right foot. It sailed high in the air and over the Polaris goal line just as the whistle blew. The game was tied.

"That was some play, Manning," said Astro, when they were lined up waiting for the next period to begin.

"You asked for it," snapped Roger, "you were yapping at me to play, and now look what's happened!"

"Listen, you loudmouthed punk!" said Astro, advancing toward the smaller cadet, but just then the whistle blew and the three boys ran out onto the field.

The Arcturus crew swept down the field quickly, heading for the ball and seemingly ignoring the Polaris unit. But Schohari slipped and fell on the grass which gave Tom a clear shot at the ball. He caught it with the side of his boot and passed it toward Roger. But Allen, at full speed, came in and intercepted, sending the ball in a crazy succession of twists, turns and bounces. The crowd came to its feet as all six cadets made desperate attempts to clear the skittering ball with none of them so much as touching it. This was the part of mercuryball that pleased the spectator. Finally, Schohari managed to get a toe on it and he sent it down field, but Astro had moved out to play defense. He stopped the ball on his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. Steadying it there, he waited until Tom was in the clear and kicked it forty yards to the mid-field stripe.

The crowd came to its feet, sensing this final drive might mean victory for the Polaris crew. The boys of the Arcturus swarmed in—trying to keep Tom from scoring. With a tremendous burst of speed, Tom reached the ball ahead of Schohari, and with the strength of desperation, he slammed his foot against it. The whistle blew ending the game as the ball rose in an arc down the field and fell short of the goal by ten feet. There was a groan from the crowd.

But suddenly the ball, still reacting to the mercury inside, spun like a top, rolled sideways, and as if it were being blown by a breeze, rolled toward the goal line and stopped six inches inside the white chalk line.

There was a moment's pause as the crowd and the players, stunned by the play, grasped what had happened. Then swelling into a roar, there was one word chanted over and over—"Polaris—Polaris—Polaris...."

The Polaris unit had reached the finals of the Academy tournament.

* * * * *

During the intermission Charlie Wolcheck, unit commander of the Capella crew, walked over to the refreshment unit behind the grandstand where Steve Strong, Dr. Dale and Commander Walters were drinking Martian water and eating spaceburgers.

"Afternoon, Commander," saluted Wolcheck. "Hello, Joan, Steve. Looks as though your boys on the Polaris are going to meet their match this afternoon. I've got to admit they're good, but with Tony Richards feeding passes to Al Davison and with the blocking of Scott McAvoy—" The young officer broke off with a grin.

"I don't know, Charlie," Commander Walters said with a wink to Dr. Dale. "From the looks of Cadet Astro, if he ever gets his foot on the ball, your Capella unit will have to go after it with a jet boat."

"Why, Commander," replied Wolcheck, laughing good-naturedly, "Tony Richards is one of the finest booters I've ever seen. Saw him make a goal from the sixty-yard line from a standstill."

Steve Strong waved a Martian water pop bottle at young Wolcheck in a gesture of friendly derision.

"Did you happen to see the play in the first period?" he boasted. "Manning took a perfect pass from Astro and scored. You're finished, Wolcheck, you and your Capella unit won't even come close."

"From what I hear and see, Manning seems to be a little sore that he can't make all the scores himself," grinned Wolcheck slyly. "He wants to be the whole show!"

Strong reddened and turned to put the empty bottle on the counter, using it as an excuse to hide his feelings from the commander and Joan. So Wolcheck had observed Manning's attitude and play on the field too.

Before Strong could reply, a bugle sounded from the field and the group of Solar Guard officers returned to their seats for the final game of the tournament between the Capella and the Polaris units.

Out on the field Mike made his usual speech about playing fair and gave the cadets the routine instructions of the game, reminding them that they were spacemen first, unit-members second, and individuals third and last. The six boys shook hands and jogged down the field to take up their positions.

"How about concentrating on the passes Richards is going to feed to Davison," Tom asked his unit-mates. "Never mind blocking out Richards and McAvoy."

"Yeah," agreed Astro, "play for the ball. Sounds good to me."

"How about it, Roger?" asked Tom.

"Just play the game," said Roger. And then added sarcastically, "And don't forget to give them every chance to score. Let's play fair and square, the way we did with the Arcturus unit."

"If you feel that way, Manning," answered Astro coldly, "you can quit right now! We'll handle the Capella guys ourselves!"

Before Roger could answer, McKenny blew the ready whistle and the three boys lined up along the white chalk line preparing for the dash to the waiting ball.

The cadets in the stands were hushed. McKenny's hand swept up and then quickly down as he blew the whistle. The crowd came to its feet, roaring, as Tom, five steps from his own goal line, tripped and fell headlong to the grass, putting him out of the first play. Astro and Roger charged down the field, with Astro reaching the ball first. He managed a good kick, but Richards, three feet away, took the ball squarely on his chest. The mercuryball fell to the ground, spun in a dizzy circle and with a gentle tap by Richards, rolled to Davison, who took it in stride and sent it soaring for a forty-five-yard goal.

The Capella unit had drawn first blood.

"Well, hot-shot," snarled Roger back on the starting line, "what happened to the big pass-stealing idea?"

"I tripped, Manning," said Tom through clenched teeth.

"Yeah! Tripped!" sneered Roger.

The whistle blew for the next goal.

Tom, with an amazing burst of speed, swept down the field, broke stride to bring him in perfect line with the ball and with a kick that seemed almost lazy, sent the ball from a dead standstill, fifty yards over the Capella goal before any of the remaining players were within five feet of it, and the score was tied.

The crowd sprang to its feet again and roared his name.

"That was terrific!" said Astro, slapping Tom on the back as they lined up again. "It looked as though you hardly kicked that ball at all."

"Yeah," muttered Roger, "you really made yourself the grandstand's delight!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Manning?" asked Astro.

"Superman Corbett probably burned himself out! Let's see him keep up that speed for the next ten minutes!"

The whistle blew for the next goal, and again the three boys moved forward to meet the onrushing Capella unit.

Richards blocked Astro with a twist of his body, and without stopping his forward motion, kicked the ball squarely toward the goal. It stopped ten feet short, took a dizzying spin and rolled away from the goal line. In a flash, the six boys were around the ball, blocking, shoving, and yelling instructions to each other while at the same time kicking at the unsteady ball. With each grazing kick, the ball went into even more maddening spins and gyrations.

At last Richards caught it with the side of his foot, flipped it to McAvoy who dropped back, and with twenty feet between him and the nearest Polaris member, calmly booted it over the goal. The whistle blew ending the first period, and the Capella unit led two to one.

During the next three periods, the Capella unit worked like a well-oiled machine. Richards passed to Davison or McAvoy, and when they were too well guarded, played brilliantly alone. The Polaris unit, on the other hand, appeared to be hopelessly outclassed. Tom and Astro fought like demons but Roger's lack of interest gave the Capella unit the edge in play. At the end of the fourth period, the Capella team led by three points, seven to four.

While the boys rested before the fifth and final period, Captain Strong, having watched the play with keen interest, realized that Roger was not playing up to his fullest capabilities. Suddenly he summoned a near-by Earthworm cadet, scribbled a message on a slip of paper and instructed the cadet to take it directly to Roger.

"Orders from the coach on the side lines?" asked Wolcheck as he noticed Strong's action.

"You might call it that, Charlie," answered Steve blandly.

On the field, the cadet messenger handed Roger the slip of paper, not mentioning that it was from Strong, and hurried back to the stands.

"Getting fan mail already?" asked Astro.

Roger ignored the comment and opened the slip of paper to read:

" ... It might interest you to know that the winning team of the mercuryball finals is to be awarded a first prize of three days' liberty in Atom City...." There was no signature.

Roger stared up into the stands and searched vainly for some indication of the person who might have sent him the note. The crowd hushed as McKenny stepped forward for the starting of the last period.

"What was in the note, Roger?" asked Tom.

"The winning combination," smiled Roger lazily. "Get set for the fastest game of mercuryball you've ever played, Corbett! We've got to pull this mess out of the fire!"

Bewildered, Tom looked at Astro who merely shrugged his shoulders and took his place ready for the whistle. Roger tucked the note into his shorts and stepped up to the line.

"Listen, Corbett," said Roger, "every time Richards gets the ball, he kicks it to his left, and then McAvoy feints as if to get it, leaving Davison in the open. When you go to block Davison, you leave Richards in the clear. He just keeps the ball. He's scored three times that way!"

"Yeah," said Tom, "I noticed that, but there was nothing I could do about it, the way you've been playing."

"Kinda late in the game for any new ideas, Manning," growled Astro. "Just get the ball and pass it to me."

"That's my whole idea! Play back, Astro. Move like you're very tired, see? Then they'll forget about you and play three on two. You just be ready to kick and kick hard!"

"What's happened to you, Roger?" asked Tom. "What was in that note?"

Before Roger could answer, the whistle and the roar from the crowd signaled the beginning of the last period. The cadets raced down the field, Roger swerving to the left and making a feint at blocking Richards. He missed intentionally and allowed Richards to get the ball, who immediately passed to the left. McAvoy raced in on the ball, Tom made a move as if to block him, reversed, and startled the onrushing Richards with a perfect block. The ball was in the clear. Roger gave it a half kick and the ball landed two feet in front of Astro. The big cadet caught it perfectly on the first bounce and kicked it on a line across the goal, seventy yards away.

Up in the stands, Steve Strong smiled as he watched the score change on the board: "Capella seven—Polaris five!"

In rapid succession, the Polaris unit succeeded in intercepting the play of the Capella unit and rolling up two goals to an even score. Now, there were only fifty-five seconds left to play.

The cadets in the stands roared their approval of the gallant effort made by the three members of the Polaris crew. It had been a long time since mercuryball had been played with such deadly accuracy at Space Academy and everyone who attended the game was to remember for years to come the last play of the game.

McKenny blew the whistle again and the boys charged forward, but by now, aware of the sudden flash of unity on the part of the opposing team, the Capella unit fought desperately to salvage at least a tie.

Tom managed to block a kick by Richards, and the ball took a dizzy hop to the left, landing in front of Astro. He was in the clear. The stands were in an uproar as the cadets saw that the game was nearly over. Astro paused a split second, judged the ball and stepped forward to kick. But the ball spun away, just as Astro swung his leg. And at that instant, McAvoy came charging in from the left, only to be blocked by Roger. But the force of McAvoy's charge knocked Roger back into Astro. Instead of kicking the ball, Astro caught Roger on the side of the head. Roger fell to the ground and lay still. He was knocked cold. Astro lost his balance, twisted on one leg unsteadily, and then fell to the ground. When he tried to get up, he couldn't walk. He had twisted his ankle.

The Capella unit members stood still, confused and momentarily unable to take advantage of their opportunity. Without a moment's hesitation, Tom swept in and kicked the ball before his opponents realized what had happened. The ball drifted up in a high arc and landed with several bounces, stopping five feet from the goal.

Suddenly Richards, McAvoy and Davison came alive and charged after Tom, who was running for the ball as fast as his weary legs would carry him. He saw Richards pull up alongside of him, then pass him. Then Davison and McAvoy closed in on either side to block and give Richards a clear shot back down the field and a certain score.

Richards reached the ball, stopped and carefully lined up his kick, certain that his teammates could block out Tom. But the young cadet, in a last desperate spurt, outraced both McAvoy and Davison. Then, as Richards cocked his foot to kick, Tom jumped. With a mighty leaping dive, he sent his body hurtling headlong toward Richards just as he kicked. Tom's body crashed into the ball and Richards. The two boys went down in a heap but the ball caromed off his chest and rolled over the goal line.

The whistle blew ending the game.

In an instant, two thousand officers, cadets and enlisted men went wild as the ball rolled across the goal line.

The Polaris crew had won eight goals to seven!

From every corner of the field, the crowd cheered the cadets who had finished the game, had won it in the final seconds with two of them sprawled on the field unconscious and a third unable to stand on his feet.

Up in the stands, Captain Strong turned to Commander Walters. He found it hard to keep his eyes from filling up as he saluted briskly.

"Captain Strong reporting, sir, on the success of the Polaris unit to overcome their differences and become a fighting unit! And I mean fight!"



CHAPTER 11

"Atom City Express now arriving on track two!" The voice boomed over the loud-speaker system; and as the long, gleaming line of monorail cars eased to a stop with a soft hissing of brakes, the three cadets of the Polaris unit moved eagerly in that direction.

"Atom City, here we come," cried Astro.

"We and a lot of others with the same idea," said Tom. And, in fact, there were only a few civilians in the crowd pressing toward the car doors. Uniforms predominated—the blue of the cadets, enlisted men in scarlet, even a few in the black and gold uniforms which identified the officers of the Solar Guard.

"Personally," whispered Tom to his friends, "the first thing I want to do at Atom City is take a long walk—somewhere where I won't see a single uniform."

"As for me," drawled Roger, "I'm going to find a stereo studio where they're showing a Liddy Tamal feature. I'll sit down in a front-row seat and just watch that girl act for about six hours."

He turned to Astro. "And how about you?"

"Why ... why ... I'll string along with you, Roger," said the cadet from Venus. "It's been a long time since I've seen a—a—"

Tom and Roger laughed.

"A what?" teased Tom.

"A—a—girl," sputtered Astro, blushing.

"I don't believe it," said Roger in mock surprise. "I never—"

"Come on," interrupted Tom. "Time to get aboard."

They hurried across the platform and entered the sleek car. Inside they found seats together and sank into the luxurious chairs.

Astro sighed gently, stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes blissfully for a few moments.

"Don't wake me till we get started," he said.

"We already have," returned Tom. "Take a look."

Astro's eyes popped open. He glanced through the clear crystal glass at the rapidly moving landscape.

"These express jobs move on supercushioned ball bearings," explained Tom. "You can't even feel it when you pull out of the station."

"Blast my jets!" marveled Astro. "I'd sure like to take a look at the power unit on this baby."

"Even on a vacation, all this guy can think about is power!" grumbled Roger.

"How about building up our own power," suggested Tom. "It's a long haul to Atom City. Let's get a bite to eat."

"O.K. with me, spaceboy!" Astro grinned. "I could swallow a whole steer!"

"That's a great idea, cadet," said a voice from behind them.

It came from a gray-haired man, neatly dressed in the black one-piece stylon suit currently in fashion, and with a wide red sash around his waist.

"Beg pardon, sir," said Tom, "were you speaking to us?"

"I certainly was," replied the stranger. "I'm asking you to be my guests at dinner. And while I may not be able to buy your friend a whole steer, I'll gladly get him a piece of one."

"Hey," said Astro, "do you think he means it?"

"He seems to," replied Tom. He turned to the stranger. "Thanks very much, sir, but don't think Astro was just kidding about his appetite."

"I'm sure he wasn't." The gray-haired man smiled, and came over and stretched out his hand. "Then it's a deal," he said. "My name's Joe Bernard."

"Bernard!" exclaimed Roger. He paled and glanced quickly at his two friends, but they were too busy looking over their new friend to notice.

"Glad to know you, sir," said Tom. "I'm Tom Corbett. This is Astro, from Venus. And over here is—"

"Roger's my name," the third cadet said quickly. "Won't you sit down, sir?"

"No use wasting time," said Bernard. "Let's go right into the dining car." The cadets were in no mood to argue with him. They picked up the small microphones beside their chairs and sent food orders to the kitchen; and by the time they were seated in the dining car, their orders were ready on the table.

Mr. Bernard, with a twinkle in his eye, watched them enjoy their food. In particular, he watched Astro.

"I warned you, sir," whispered Tom, as the Venusian went to work on his second steak.

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything," said Bernard. He smiled, lit a cigar of fine Mercurian leaf tobacco and settled back comfortably.

"And now," he said, "let me explain why I was so anxious to have dinner with you. I'm in the import-export business. Ship to Mars, mostly. But all my life I've wanted to be a spaceman."

"Well, what was the trouble, Mr. Bernard?" asked Roger.

The man in black sighed. "Couldn't take the acceleration, boys. Bad heart. I send out more than five hundred cargoes a year, to all parts of the solar system; but myself, I've never been more than a mile off the surface of the earth."

"It sure must be disappointing—to want to blast off, and know that you can't," said Tom.

"I tried, once," said Bernard, with a rueful smile. "Yup! I tried." He gazed thoughtfully out the window.

"When I was your age, about twenty, I wanted to get into Space Academy worse than anybody I'd ever met." He paused. "Except for one person. A boyhood buddy of mine—named Kenneth—"

"Excuse me, sir," cut in Roger quickly, "but I think we'd better get back to our car. With this big liberty in front of us, we need a lot of rest."

"But, Roger!" exclaimed Tom.

Bernard smiled. "I understand, Roger. Sometimes I forget that I'm an old man. And when you've already tasted the excitement of space travel, talk like mine must seem rather dull." He stood up and faced the three cadets. "It's been very pleasant, Corbett, Astro, Roger. Now run along and get your rest. I'll just sit here for a while and watch the scenery."

"Thank you, sir," said Tom, "for the dinner—your company—and everything," he finished lamely.

There was a chorus of good-byes and the boys returned to their car. But there was little conversation now. Gradually, the lights in the cars dimmed to permit sleep. But Tom kept listening to the subdued click of the monorail—and kept wondering. Finally Roger, sleeping next to him, wakened for a moment.

"Roger," said Tom, "I want to ask you something."

"Wait'll the mornin'," mumbled Roger. "Wanta sleep."

"The way you acted with Bernard," Tom persisted. "You ate his dinner and then acted like he was poison. Why was that, Roger?"

The other sat bolt upright. "Listen," he said. "Listen!" Then he slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Lemme sleep, Corbett. Lemme sleep, I tell you." He turned his back and in a moment was making sounds of deep slumber, but Tom felt sure that Roger was not asleep—that he was wide awake, with something seriously bothering him.

Tom leaned back and gazed out over the passing plains and up into the deep black of space. The Moon was full, large and round. He could distinguish Mare Imbrium, the largest of Luna's flat plains visible from Earth, where men had built the great metropolis of Luna City. Farther out in the deep blackness, he could see Mars, glowing like a pale ruby. Before long he would be up there again. Before long he would be blasting off in the Polaris with Astro and with Roger—

Roger! Why had he acted so strangely at dinner?

Tom remembered the night he saw Roger in Galaxy Hall alone at night, and the sudden flash on the field a few days before when they had won the mercuryball game. Was there some reason behind his companion's strange actions? In vain, Tom racked his brain to find the answer. There had to be some explanation. Yet what could it possibly be? He tossed and turned and worried and finally—comfortable as the monorail car was—he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

* * * * *

Atom City! Built of the clear crystal mined so cheaply on Titan, moon of Saturn, Atom City had risen from a barren North American wasteland to become a show place of the universe. Here was the center of all space communications—a proud city of giant crystal buildings. Here had been developed the first slidewalks, air cars, three-dimensional stereos and hundreds of other ideas for better living.

And here at Atom City was the seat of the great Solar Alliance, housed in a structure which covered a quarter of a mile at its base and which towered three thousand noble feet into the sky.

The three cadets stepped out of the monorail and walked across the platform to a waiting air car—jet-powered, shaped like a teardrop and with a clear crystal top.

"We want the best hotel in town," said Astro grandly to the driver.

"And get this speed bug outa here in a hurry," Roger told him. "There's a lot we want to do."

The driver couldn't help smiling at the three cadets so obviously enjoying their first leave.

"We've got three top hotels," he said. "One's as good as the other. They're the Earth, the Mars and the Venus."

"The Earth," voted Tom.

"The Mars," shouted Roger.

"The Venus!" roared Astro.

"All right," said the driver with a laugh, "make up your minds."

"Which of 'em is nearest the center of the city?" Tom asked.

"The Mars."

"Then blast off for Mars!" ordered Tom, and the air car shot away from the station and moved up into the stream of expressway traffic fifty feet above the ground.

As the little car sped along the broad avenue, Tom remembered how often, as a boy, he'd envied the Space Cadets who'd come to his home town of New Chicago on leave. Now here he was—in uniform, with a three-day pass, and all of Atom City to enjoy it in.

A few minutes later the air car stopped in front of the Mars Hotel. The cadets saw the entrance loom before them—a huge opening, with ornate glass and crystal in many different colors.

They walked across the high-ceilinged lobby toward the desk. All around them, the columns that supported the ceiling were made of the clearest crystal. Their feet sank into soft, lustrous deep-pile rugs made of Venusian jungle grass.

The boys advanced toward the huge circular reception desk where a pretty girl with red hair waited to greet them.

"May I help you?" she asked. She flashed a dazzling smile.

"You're a lucky girl," said Roger. "It just so happens you can help me. We'll have dinner together—just the two of us—and then we'll go to the stereos. After which we'll—"

The girl shook her head sadly. "I can see your friend's got a bad case of rocket shock," she said to Tom.

"That's right," Tom admitted. "But if you'll give us a triple room, we'll make sure he doesn't disturb anybody."

"Ah," said Roger, "go blow your jets!"

"I have a nice selection of rooms here on photo-slides if you'd care to look at them," the girl suggested.

"How many rooms in this hotel, Beautiful?" asked Roger.

"Nearly two thousand," answered the girl.

"And you have photo-slides of all two thousand?"

"Why, yes," answered the girl. "Why do you ask?"

"You and Astro go take a walk, Corbett," said Roger with a grin. "I'll select our quarters!"

"You mean," asked the girl, a little flustered, "you want to look at all the slides?"

"Sure thing, Lovely!" said Roger with a lazy smile.

"But—but that would take three hours!"

"Exactly my idea!" said Roger.

"Just give us a nice room, Miss," said Tom, cutting in. "And please excuse Manning. He's so smart, he gets a little dizzy now and then. Have to take him over to a corner and revive him." He glanced at Astro, who picked Roger up in his arms and walked away with him as though he were a baby.

"Come on, you space Romeo!" said Astro.

"Hey—ouch—hey—lemme go, ya big ape. You're killing your best friend!" Roger twisted around in Astro's viselike grasp, to no avail.

"Space fever," explained Tom. "He'll be O.K. soon."

"I think I understand," said the girl with a nervous smile.

She handed Tom a small flashlight. "Here's your photoelectric light key for room 2305 F. That's on the two hundred thirtieth floor."

Tom took the light key and turned toward the slidestairs where Astro was holding Roger firmly, despite his frantic squirming.

"Hey, Tom," cried Roger, "tell this Venusian ape to let me go!"

"Promise to behave yourself?" asked Tom.

"We came here to have fun, didn't we?" demanded Roger.

"That doesn't mean getting thrown out of the hotel because you've got to make passes at every beautiful girl."

"What's the matter with beautiful girls?" growled Roger. "They're official equipment, like a radar scanner. You can't get along without them!"

Tom and Astro looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Come on, you jerk," said Astro, "let's get washed up. I wanta take a walk and get something to eat. I'm hungry again!"

An hour later, showered and dressed in fresh uniforms, the Polaris crew began a tour of the city. They went to the zoo and saw dinosaurs, a tyrannosaurus, and many other monsters extinct on Earth millions of years ago, but still breeding in the jungles of Tara. They visited the council chamber of the Solar Alliance where delegates from the major planets and from the larger satellites, such as Titan of Saturn, Ganymede of Jupiter, and Luna of Earth made the laws for the tri-planetary league. The boys walked through the long halls of the Alliance building, looking at the great documents which had unified the solar system.

They reverently inspected original documents of the Universal Bill of Rights and the Solar Constitution, which guaranteed basic freedoms of speech, press, religion, peaceful assembly and representative government. And even brash, irrepressible Roger Manning was awestruck as they tiptoed into the great Chamber of the Galactic Court, where the supreme judicial body of the entire universe sat in solemn dignity.

Later, the boys visited the Plaza de Olympia—a huge fountain, filled with water taken from the Martian Canals, the lakes of Venus and the oceans of Earth, and ringed by a hundred large statues, each one symbolizing a step in mankind's march through space.

But then, for the Space Cadets, came the greatest thrill of all—a trip through the mighty Hall of Science, at once a museum of past progress and a laboratory for the development of future wonders.

Thousands of experiments were being conducted within this crystal palace, and as Space Cadets, the boys were allowed to witness a few of them. They watched a project which sought to harness the solar rays more effectively; another which aimed to create a new type of fertilizer for Mars, so people of that planet would be able to grow their own food in their arid deserts instead of importing it all from other worlds. Other scientists were trying to adapt Venusian jungle plants to grow on other planets with a low oxygen supply; while still others, in the medical field, sought for a universal antibody to combat all diseases.

Evening finally came and with it time for fun and entertainment. Tired and leg weary, the cadets stepped on a slidewalk and allowed themselves to be carried to a huge restaurant in the heart of Atom City.

"Food," exulted Astro as the crystal doors swung open before them. "Smell it! Real, honest-to-gosh food!" He rushed for a table.

"Hold it, Astro," shouted Tom. "Take it easy."

"Yeah," added Roger. "It's been five hours since your last meal—not five weeks!"

"Meal!" snorted the Venusian cadet. "Call four spaceburgers a meal? And anyway, it's been six hours, not five."

Laughing, Tom and Roger followed their friend inside. Luckily, they found a table not far from the door, where Astro grabbed the microphone and ordered his usual tremendous dinner.

The three boys ate hungrily as course after course appeared on the middle of the table, via the direct shaft from the kitchen. So absorbed was Manning that he did not notice the approach of a tall dark young man of about his own age, dressed in the red-brown uniform of the Passenger Space Service. But the young man, who wore a captain's high-billed hat, suddenly caught sight of Roger.

"Manning," he called, "what brings you here?"

"Al James!" cried Roger and quickly got up to shake hands. "Of all the guys in the universe to show up! Sit down and have a bite with us."

The space skipper sat down. Roger introduced him to Tom and Astro. There was a round of small talk.

"Whatever made you become a Space Cadet, Roger?" asked James finally.

"Oh, you know how it is," said Roger. "You can get used to anything."

Astro almost choked on a mouthful of food. He shot a glance at Tom, who shook his head as though warning him not to speak.

James grinned broadly. "I remember how you used to talk back home. The Space Cadets were a bunch of tin soldiers trying to feel important. The Academy was a lot of space gas. I guess, now, you've changed your mind."

"Maybe I have," said Roger. He glanced uneasily at his two friends, but they pretended to be busy eating. "Maybe I have." Roger's eyes narrowed, his voice became a lazy drawl. "At that it's better'n being a man in a monkey suit, with nothing to do but impress the passengers and order around the crew."

"Wait a minute," said James. "What kind of a crack is that?"

"No crack at all. Just the way I feel about you passenger gents who don't know a rocket tube from a ray-gun nozzle."

"Look, Manning," returned James. "No need to get sore, just because you couldn't do any better than the Space Cadets."

"Blast off," shouted Roger, "before I fuse your jets."

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."