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"Maybe you're trying to make it too small, Astro," commented Connel, looking over the drawing. "Remember, this unit has but one job. To start the reaction. When the reaction fuel gets hot enough, it'll start a reaction of the copper on Junior and sustain itself. Try a smaller amount of the reactant. But whatever you do, keep working. Only a day and a few hours left."

Connel looked at Shinny. "Keep him working, Mr. Shinny," he ordered. "I know he can do it. Just keep him going."

Shinny grinned and nodded.

"I'll try, sir," said Astro, shaking his head, "but I won't guarantee it—"

Connel cut him off with a roar. "Cadet Astro, I don't want your guarantee! I want that unit. Now build it!"

Hour after hour the cadets racked their brains for what seemed like impossible answers to an impossible task. Working until their eyes closed fast shut, they would lie down right where they were—power deck, control deck, or radar bridge—and sleep. They would awake, still groggy, drink hot tea, eat cold sandwiches, and continue their struggle with time and astrophysics.

One by one, the problems were solved and set aside for newer ones that arose on the way. Each cadet worked in his particular field, and all of their information was assembled and co-ordinated by Major Connel. More than once, Connel had found the clever minds of his cadets reaching for answers to questions he knew would have troubled the professors back at Space Academy. Connel, his eye on the clock, his sharp tongue lashing out when he thought he detected unclear thinking, raced from one department to another while the incessant work continued. On the morning of the fourth day he walked into the radar bridge where Roger and Alfie had been working steadily for seventy-two hours on an electronic fuse to trigger the reactant units.

"There you are, skipper," said Roger. "The fuse is all yours. Delivered twelve hours ahead of time!"

"Good work, Roger. You too, Alfie. Excellent!" said Connel, his eyes appraising the fuse.

"Ah, that's nothing, skipper," said Roger with a smile. "Anyone could have done it with Alfie here to help. He's got a brain like a calculator!"

"Now, I want to see how smart you two really are!" said Connel.

"Huh?" asked Roger stupidly. Alfie had slumped to the deck, holding his head in his hands.

"I want a communications unit," said Connel, "that can send out a constant beam, a signal Space Academy can pick up to follow Junior in transit back to Earth."

"In twelve hours?" exploded Roger. "Impossible, skipper!"

"Cadet Manning," roared Connel, "I don't want your opinion, I asked for that unit!"

"But one day, sir," said Roger. "Not even a day. Twelve hours. I can't, sir. I'm sorry. I'm so tired I can't see straight."

Alfie let out a low moan.

Connel studied the two cadets. He was aware that he had already asked them to do the impossible, and they had done it. And they deserved to be let alone. But Major Connel wasn't himself unless he had given every ounce of energy he had left, or the energy left in those around him. He patted Roger on the shoulder and spoke softly.

"Roger, did I ever tell you that I think you have one of the finest brains for electronics I've ever seen? And that Alfie is sure to have a brilliant future in astrophysics?"

Roger stammered. "Why—ah—thank you, sir—"

Alfie looked up at Connel and then struggled to his feet.

"You know, Roger," he said haltingly, "if we took that unit we came out here to test—you know, the transmitter unit—"

Roger cut him off. "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. We could borrow some of the reaction mass that Astro got out of the Space Devil and use that as a power source."

Connel backed away from the two cadets and tiptoed off the bridge. He smiled to himself. He was going to win his race with time yet! And he was going to do it because he had learned long before that you could only push a man so far, then you had to sit down, pat him on the back, tell him how smart he was, and he would push himself. Connel almost laughed out loud.

Six hours later Connel sat in his quarters puzzling over