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"Sure, sorta like a slingshot," said Astro.

"That's right, Astro," said Connel, "and if you released the rope, the rock would fly in the direction it was headed, when you let go!"

"I get it," cried Tom excitedly. "The gravity of Tara is the rope holding Junior—ah"—he fumbled—"making it swing around!"

"And the reactant power of the Space Devil placed in the right spot would be the trigger to make it let go!" commented Roger.

"It's as simple as that, boys!" said Connel with a smile.

"But how in the blazing beams of the sun are you going to stop that blasted thing when you get it rolling?" asked Shinny.

"The chances of Junior hitting anything on the way home are so small it doesn't present a problem. So we just aim Junior for our solar system! Later on, arrangements can be made to steer it into an orbit around our sun."

"You know," wheezed Shinny, his merry eyes twinkling, "that sounds pretty neat!"

"It is," replied Connel. He leaned against the control-board desk top and folded his arms across his massive chest. He looked at each of the cadets and Shinny a long time before speaking. Finally he stepped forward and stood among them, turning now and then to speak directly to each of them.

"We have only four days, five hours, and some few minutes to pull Junior out of Tara's grip, and later, the grip of Alpha Centauri. You boys will have to work as you've never worked before. You'll do things you never dreamed you could do. You'll work until your brains ache and your bodies scream. But when you're finished, you will have accomplished one of man's greatest challenges. You're going to do all this because I know you can—and I'm going to see that you do! Is that clear?"

There was a barely audible "Yes, sir" from the cadets.

"The six of us, working together, are going to send a hunk of copper fifteen miles in diameter hurtling through twenty-three million million miles of space, so let's get that ball rolling. Right now!"

With Major Connel roaring, pleading, and blasting, four young cadets and a derelict spaceman began the monumental task of assembling the mass of information necessary for the satellite's big push through space. During the three days that their project had been under way, Tom, Roger, Astro, Alfie, and Mr. Shinny worked, as Major Connel promised, as they had never worked before.

Late in the afternoon of the third day Connel stepped through the hatch of the control deck where Tom was busy over a table of ratios for balancing the amount of thrust from each of the reactant-power units. The power units were to give Junior its initial thrust out of the gravity of Tara.

"Well, Corbett," asked Connel, "how're you making out with the ratios?"

"I've finished them, sir," replied Tom, looking up at the major. His face was drawn, his eyes red from lack of sleep. "But I just can't seem to get a time for escaping the orbit on a true tangent."

"Have you tried making an adjustment for the overall pull of both components?" asked Connel. "That of Tara and of Alpha Centauri on Junior?" He picked up the paper Tom had been working on and glanced over the figures.

"Yes, sir," replied Tom, "but I still can't seem to make it come out right!"

"You'll get it, Tom," said Connel. "Go over it again. But remember. Time's running out. Just one day and about twenty hours left." Connel's voice was friendly—more friendly than at any time Tom could remember. He smiled, and taking a fresh sheet of paper, he began the complicated calculations of escape time all over again.

Connel slipped out of the control room and went below to the power deck, where Astro and Mr. Shinny had been working without sleep for over fifty hours. When Connel slipped into the room he found the two men puzzling over a drawing board.

"What seems to be the trouble, Astro?" asked Connel.

Astro turned, startled. "We've tried building that lead baffle for the reactant units five times now, sir," said Astro. "We're having a hard time getting the correct amount of reactant power we need in a unit this small."