Part 32 (1/2)

”But how, sir?” asked Tom.

”It's very simple, Tom,” answered Connel. His voice was strangely quiet.

”Junior spins on its axis in two hours, just as Earth spins in twenty-four hours. I thought we had the explosions timed so at the proper moment we'd push Junior out of his...o...b..t around Tara, and the greater orbit around Alpha Centauri, by utilizing both speeds, plus the initial thrust. But by being one blast short, forty minutes late, the explosion will take place when Junior is forty minutes out of position”--he paused and calculated rapidly in his mind--”that's about forty-eight thousand miles out of position. When it goes off, instead of sending Junior out into s.p.a.ce, it'll blast it right into its own sun!”

”Isn't there something we can do, sir?” asked Tom.

”Nothing, Corbett,” answered Connel wearily. ”Instead of supplying the Solar Alliance with copper, in another week Junior will be hardly more than a molten piece of s.p.a.ce junk.” He looked at the teleceiver screen.

All ready, Junior was falling away.

”Stand by for full acceleration, hyperdrive,” said the big officer in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. ”We're heading home!”

CHAPTER 17

The subdued whine of the hyperdrive filled the power deck and made Roger wince as he stepped through the hatch and waved at Astro. He climbed down the ladder and stopped beside the big Venusian who stood stripped to the waist, watching the pressure gauges on the power-deck control board.

”Hiya, Roger,” said Astro with a big grin.

”h.e.l.lo, Astro,” replied Roger and sat down on a stool near by.

”Excuse me a minute, hot-shot,” said Astro. ”Gotta check the baffling around reaction tube three.” The big cadet hurriedly donned a lead-lined protective suit and entered the reaction chamber. After a moment he reappeared and took off the suit. He poured a gla.s.s of water, handed it to Roger, and poured another for himself.

”Gets pretty hot down here,” he said. ”I don't like to use the air conditioner when I'm on hyperdrive. Sucks my power output and reduces pressure on the oxygen pumps.”

Roger nodded absently at the needlessly detailed explanation. Astro looked at him sharply. ”Say, what's eating you?”

”Honestly, Astro,” said Roger, ”I've never felt more miserable in my life.”

”Don't let it get you down, Roger,” said Astro. ”The major said it was a mistake anyone could make.”

”Yeah,” flared Roger, ”but have you seen the way he just--_talks_?”

”Talks?” asked Astro blankly.

”Yeah, talks,” said Roger. ”No yelling, or blasting off, or handing out demerits like they were candy. Nothing! Why he hasn't even chewed Alfie out since we left Junior. He just sits in his quarters.”

Astro understood now and nodded his head in agreement. ”Yeah, you're right. I'd rather have him fusing his tubes than the way he is now.”

”Tom must feel pretty rotten, too,” said Roger. ”I haven't seen much of him either.”

”Or Alfie,” put in Astro. ”Neither of them have done anything but work.

I don't think either of them has slept since we left Tara.”

”It's all my fault!” said Roger. ”I'm nothing but a loudmouthed bag of s.p.a.ce gas--with an asteroid for a head!” He got up and lurched toward the ladder.

”Hey, where you going?” yelled Astro.

”Almost forgot,” yelled Roger from the top of the ladder. ”I've got to feed our prisoners a meal. And the way I feel, I'd like to shove it down their throats!”