Danger in Deep Space | Page 9

as Roger and Astro, but he fought for control. He was
determined not to be bullied.
"I didn't ask you who won!" snapped Connel. "But you're the one just
the same. Control-deck cadet, eh? Well, you work with me. On the
control deck there's only room for one brain, one decision, one answer.
And when I'm on the control deck, that decision, answer, and brain will
be mine!"
"I understand perfectly, sir," said Tom tonelessly.
Connel stepped back, fists on his hips, eying the three cadets. He had
heard about their difficulty in fitting personalities together when they
had first arrived at Space Academy (as described in Stand By for
Mars!). And he had heard about their triumph over the Martian desert.
He was impressed with everything he had learned about them, but he
knew that he had a reputation for being tough and that this reputation
usually brought out the best in cadets. Early in his long and brilliant
career he had learned that his life depended on the courage and
ingenuity of his fellow spacemen. When he became an instructor at the
Academy, he had determined that no cadet would ever be anything but
the best, and that, when they blasted off in later years, they could be
depended on.
He looked at the three cadets and felt a tinge of excitement that did not
show on his scowling face. "Yes," he thought, "they'll make spacemen.
It'll take a little time--but they're good material."
"Now listen to this!" he bawled. "We blast off for the Venus space
station in exactly thirty minutes. Get your gear aboard the Polaris and
stand by to raise ship." He dropped his voice and pushed out his jaw a
little farther. "This will be the toughest journey you'll ever make. You'll
either come back spacemen, or you'll come back nothing. I'm going to
try my best to make it"--he paused and added coldly--"nothing!
Because if you can't take it from me, then you don't belong in space!
Unit dis-missed!"

He turned on his heel and disappeared up the slidestairs without
another look at the three rigid cadets.
"Yeah--we'll educate him, all right," said Astro softly, with a wink at
Tom. "Make him think he's done everything for us."
"Ah, go blast your jets!" snarled Roger after he had found his voice.
"Come on," said Tom. "Let's get the Polaris ready. And, fellows, I
mean ready!"
Bill Loring and Al Mason stood near the entrance to the control tower
of the Academy spaceport and watched the three cadets of the Polaris
scramble into the giant rocket cruiser.
"Every time I think about that Connel kicking us out of space for
twelve months I wanta pound his head in with a wrench!" snarled
Loring.
Mason snorted. "Well, what's the use of hanging around here?" he
asked. "That Connel wouldn't have us aboard the Polaris, even if we
were cleared and had our papers. There ain't a thing we can do!"
"Don't give up so easy. There's a fortune setting up there in space--just
waiting for me and you to come and take it. And no big-shot Solar
Guard officer is going to keep me from getting it!"
"Yeah--yeah," grumbled Mason, "but what are you going to do about
it?"
"I'll show you what I'm going to do!" said Loring. "We're heading for
Venusport."
"Venusport? By the moons of Jupiter, what are we going to do there?"
"Get a free ride to Tara!"
"But how? I only got a few hundred credits and you ain't got much
more. There ain't nobody going to go fifty billion miles on nothing!"

Loring's eyes followed the massive figure of Major Connel on the
slidewalk as it swept across the spaceport field toward the Polaris.
"You just buy us a coupla seats on the next rocket to Venusport and
stop asking stupid questions. When we see Major 'Blast-off' Connel
again, we'll be giving the orders with a paralo-ray!"
The two disgruntled spacemen turned quickly and walked to the nearest
slidewalk, disappearing around a building.
Aboard the Polaris, Tom confronted his two unit-mates.
"Now look, fellows. After the hard time Major Connel just gave us,
let's see if we can't really stay on the ball from now on."
"All right by me, Tom," Astro said, nodding his head.
"You're having space dreams, Corbett!" drawled Roger. "No matter
what we do for old 'Blast-off' we'll wind up behind the eight ball."
"But if we really try," urged Tom, "if we all do our jobs, there can't be
anything for him to fuss about."
"We'll make it tough for him to give us any demerits," Astro chimed in.
"Right," said Tom.
"It won't work," grumbled Roger. "You saw the way he chewed us up,
and for what? I ask you--for what?"
"He was just trying