On the Trail of the Space Pirates_ A Tom Corbett Space Cadet Adventure - Carey Rockwell [130]
"I'm rather inclined to agree with you, Tom," said Alfie mildly. "Leadership carries with it the greatest of all burdens—responsibility for other peoples' lives. You, Corbett, as a control-deck cadet, would do well to mark Major Connel's pattern of behavior."
"Listen," growled Astro, "if Tom ever turned out to be a rocket buster like Connel—I'd—I'd—"
"Don't worry, Astro," Tom said, laughing. "I don't think there'll be another Major Connel in a million light years!"
Shinny laughed silently, his small frame shaking slightly. "Say it again, Tommy. Not in the whole universe will there ever be another like old 'Blast-off' Connel!"
On the deck below the messroom, Roger, balancing a tray carefully on one hand, opened the electronic lock of the brig and then stepped back quickly, leveling a paralo-ray gun.
"All right, Mason, Loring," he yelled, "come and get it!" The door slid open, and Loring stuck his head out. "Any funny business," Roger warned, "and I'll stiffen you so fast, you won't know what hit you!"
"It's about time you showed up!" growled Loring. "Whaddaya trying to do, starve us to death?"
"That's not a bad idea!" said Roger. Loring took the tray. Roger motioned him back inside the brig and slammed the door shut. He locked it and leaned against the grille.
"Better eat it while you can," he said. "They don't serve it so fancy on a prison asteroid."
"You'll never get us on a prison asteroid," whined Mason.
"Don't kid yourself," said Roger. "As soon as we get the reactor units set, we're going to send this hunk of copper back to Earth and then take you back. They'll bury you!"
"Who's going to do all that?" snapped Loring. "A bunch of punk kids and a loudmouthed Solar Guard officer?"
"Yeah," retorted Roger.
"Cadet Manning!" Connel's voice roared over the intercom. "You were ordered to report to the control deck in five minutes! You are already one minute late! Report to the control deck on the double and I mean double!"
Loring and Mason laughed. "Old 'Blast-off' Connel's really got your number, eh, kid?"
"Ah, rocket off, you pinheaded piece of space junk! It didn't take him long to dampen your tubes!"
Connel roared again. "Blast your hide, Manning, report!"
"Better raise ship, Manning," said Loring, "you might get another nasty demerit!"
Roger turned away and raced to the control deck. He entered breathlessly and stood beside his unit-mates while Connel eyed him coldly.
"Thank you, Cadet Manning," said Connel. "We appreciate your being here!"
"Yes, sir," mumbled Roger.
"All right," barked Connel, "you know your assignments. We'll take the jet boats as before and go out in pairs. Tom and myself, Astro and Roger, and Shinny and Alfie. We'll set up the reaction charges on Junior at the points marked on the chart screen here." He indicated the chart on the projection. "Copy them down on your own charts. Each team will take three of the reaction units. My team will set up at points one, two, and three. Astro and Roger at four, five, and six. Alfie and Shinny at seven, eight, and nine. After you've set up the charges, attach the triggers for the fuses and return to the ship. Watch your timing! If we fail, it'll be more than a year before Junior will be in the same orbital position again. How much time do we have left, Corbett?"
Tom glanced at the clock. "Exactly two hours, sir," he said.
"Not much," said Connel, "but enough. It shouldn't take more than an hour and a half to set up the units and get back to the ship to blast off. All clear? Any questions?"
There were no questions.
"All right," said the officer, "put on your space gear and move out!"
Handling the lead-encased charges carefully, the six spacemen loaded the jet boats and, one by one, blasted off from the Polaris to positions marked on the map.
Working rapidly, each of the teams of two moved from one position to another