Читать книгу The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack - Carey Rockwell - Страница 13

CHAPTER 9

The three members of the Polaris unit stepped off the slidewalk at the Academy spaceport and stood before Warrant Officer McKenny.

“There she is,” said the stubby spaceman, pointing to the gleaming spaceship resting not two hundred feet away. “Rocket cruiser Polaris. The newest and fastest ship in space.”

He faced the three boys with a smile. “And she’s all yours. You earned her!”

Mouths open, Tom, Roger and Astro stood gaping in fascination at the mighty spaceship resting on the concrete ramp. Her long two-hundred-foot polished beryllium steel hull mirrored the spaceport scene around them. The tall buildings of the Academy, the “ready” line of space destroyers and scouts, and the hundreds of maintenance noncoms of the enlisted Solar Guard, their scarlet uniforms spotted with grime, were all reflected back to the Polaris unit as they eyed the sleek ship from the needlelike nose of her bow to the stubby opening of her rocket exhausts. Not a seam or rivet could be seen in her hull. At the top of the ship, near her nose, a large blister made of six-inch clear crystal indicated the radar bridge. Twelve feet below it, six round window ports showed the position of the control deck. Surrounding the base of the ship was an aluminum scaffold with a ladder over a hundred feet high anchored to it. The top rung of the ladder just reached the power-deck emergency hatch which was swung open, like a giant plug, revealing the thickness of the hull, nearly a foot.

“Well,” roared the red-clad spaceman, “don’t you want to climb aboard and see what your ship looks like inside?”

“Do we!” cried Tom, and made a headlong dash for the scaffold. Astro let out one of his famous yells and followed right at his heels. Roger watched them running ahead and started off at a slow walk, but suddenly, no longer able to resist, he broke into a dead run. Those around the Polaris stopped their work to watch the three cadets scramble up the ladder. Most of the ground crew were ex-spacemen like McKenny, no longer able to blast off because of acceleration reaction. And they smiled knowingly, remembering their reactions to their first spaceship.

Inside the massive cruiser, the boys roamed over every deck, examining the ship excitedly.

“Say look at this!” cried Tom. He stood in front of the control board and ran his hands over the buttons and switches. “This board makes the manual we worked on at the Academy look like it’s ready for Galaxy Hall!”

“Yeeeooooooww!” Three decks below, Astro had discovered the rocket motors. Four of the most powerful ever installed on a spaceship, enabling the Polaris to outrace any ship in space.

Roger stuck his head through the radar-bridge hatch and gazed in awe at the array of electronic communicators, detection radar and astrogation gear. With lips pulled into a thin line, he mumbled to himself: “Too bad they didn’t give you this kind of equipment.”

“What’d you say, Roger?” asked Astro, climbing alongside to peer into the radar bridge.

Startled, Roger turned and stammered, “Ah—nothing—nothing.”

Looking around, Astro commented, “This place looks almost as good as that power deck.”

“Of course,” said Roger, “they could have placed that astrogation prism a little closer to the chart table. Now I’ll have to get up every time I want to take sights on stars!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of complaining?” asked Astro.

“Ah—rocket off,” snarled Roger.

“Hey, you guys,” yelled Tom from below, “better get down here! Captain Strong’s coming aboard.”

Climbing back down the ladder to the control deck, Astro leaned over his shoulder and asked Roger, “Do you really think he’ll let us take this baby up for a hop, Manning?”

“Get your head out of that cloud, Astro. You’ll pull about three weeks of dry runs before this baby gets five inches off the ground.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Manning!” Strong’s voice boomed out as he climbed up through the control-deck hatch. The three boys immediately snapped to attention.

Strong walked around the control deck, fingering the controls lightly.

“This is a fine ship,” he mused aloud. “One of the finest that scientific brains can build. She’s yours. The day you graduate from the Academy, IF you graduate, and I can think of about a thousand reasons why you won’t, you’ll command an armed rocket cruiser similar to this. As a matter of fact, the only difference between this ship and those that patrol the space lanes now is in the armament.”

“Don’t we have any arms aboard at all, sir?” asked Tom.

“Small arms, like paralo-ray pistols and paralo-ray rifles. Plus four atomic war heads for emergency use,” replied Strong.

Seeing a puzzled expression cross Astro’s face, the Solar Guard officer continued, “You haven’t studied armament yet, Astro, but paralo rays are the only weapons used by law-enforcement agencies in the Solar Alliance. They work on a principle of controlled energy, sending out a ray with an effective range of fifty yards that can paralyze the nervous system of any beast or human.”

“And it doesn’t kill, sir?” inquired Astro.

“No, Astro.” replied Strong. “Paralyzing a man is just as effective as killing him. The Solar Alliance doesn’t believe you have to kill anyone, not even the most vicious criminal. Freeze him and capture him, and you still have the opportunity of making him a useful citizen.”

“But if you can’t?” inquired Roger dryly.

“Then he’s kept on the prison asteroid where he can’t harm anyone.” Strong turned away abruptly. “But this isn’t the time for a general discussion. We’ve got work to do!”

He walked over to the master control panel and switched the teleceiver screen. There was a slight buzz, and a view of the spaceport outside the ship suddenly came into focus, filling the screen. Strong flipped a switch and a view aft on the Polaris filled the glowing square. The aluminum scaffolding was being hauled away by a jet truck. Again the view changed as Strong twisted the dials in front of him.

“Just scanning the outside, boys,” he commented. “Have to make sure there isn’t anyone near the ship when we blast off. The rocket exhaust is powerful enough to blow a man two hundred feet, to say nothing of burning him to death.”

“You mean, sir—” began Tom, not daring to hope.

“Of course, Corbett,” smiled Strong. “Take your stations for blast-off. We raise ship as soon as we get orbital clearance from spaceport control!”

Without waiting for further orders, the three boys scurried to their stations.

Soon the muffled whine of the energizing pumps on the power deck began to ring through the ship, along with the steady beep of the radar scanner on the radar bridge. Tom checked the maze of gauges and dials on the control board. Air locks, hatches, oxygen supply, circulating system, circuits, and feeds. In five minutes the two-hundred-foot shining steel hull was a living thing as her rocket motors purred, warming up for the initial thrust.

Tom made a last sweeping check of the complicated board and turned to Captain Strong who stood to one side watching.

“Ship ready to blast off, sir,” he announced. “Shall I check stations and proceed to raise ship?”

“Carry on, Cadet Corbett,” Strong replied. “Log yourself in as skipper with me along as supercargo. I’ll ride in the second pilot’s chair.”

Tom snapped a sharp salute and added vocally, “Aye, aye, sir!”

He turned back to the control board, strapped himself into the command pilot’s seat and opened the circuit to the spaceport control tower.

“Rocket cruiser Polaris to spaceport control,” he droned into the microphone. “Check in!”

“Spaceport control to Polaris,” the voice of the tower operator replied. “You are cleared for blast-off in two minutes. Take out—orbit 75…repeat…75.…”

“Polaris to spaceport control. Orders received and understood. End transmission!”

Tom then turned his attention to the station check.

“Control deck to radar deck. Check in.”

“Radar deck, aye! Ready to raise ship.” Roger’s voice was relaxed, easy.

Tom turned to the board to adjust the teleceiver screen for a clear picture of the stern of the ship. Gradually it came up in as sharp detail as if he had been standing on the ground.

He checked the electric timing device in front of him that ticked off the seconds, as a red hand crawled around to zero, and when it swept down to the thirty-second mark, Tom pulled the microphone to his lips again. “Control deck to power deck. Check in!”

“Power deck, aye?”

“Energize the cooling pumps!”

“Cooling pumps, aye!” repeated Astro.

“Feed reactant!”

“Reactant at D-9 rate.”

From seventy feet below them, Strong and Tom heard the hiss of the reactant mass feeding into the rocket motors, and the screeching whine of the mighty pumps that kept the mass from building too rapidly and exploding.

The second hand swept up to the twenty-second mark.

“Control deck to radar deck,” called Tom. “Do we have a clear trajectory forward?”

“All clear forward and overhead,” replied Roger.

Tom placed his hand on the master switch that would throw the combined circuits, instruments and gauges into the single act of blasting the mighty ship into space. His eyes glued to the sweeping hand, he counted past the twelve-second mark—eleven—ten—nine—

“Stand by to raise ship,” he bawled into the microphone. “Minus—five—four—three—two—one—zero!”

Tom threw the master switch.

There was a split-second pause and then the great ship roared into life. Slowly at first, she lifted her tail full of roaring jets free of the ground. Ten feet—twenty—fifty—a hundred—five hundred—a thousand—picking up speed at an incredible rate.

Tom felt himself being pushed deeper and deeper into the softness of the acceleration cushions. He had been worried about not being able to keep his eyes open to see the dwindling Earth in the teleceiver over his head, but the tremendous force of the rockets pushing him against gravity to tear the two hundred tons of steel away from the Earth’s grip held his eyelids open for him. As the powerful rockets tore deeper into the gap that separated the ship from Earth, he saw the spaceport gradually grow smaller. The rolling hills around the Academy closed in, and then the Academy itself, with the Tower of Galileo shrinking to a white stick, was lost in the brown and green that was Earth. The rockets pushed harder and harder and he saw the needle of the acceleration gauge creep slowly up. Four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten miles a second!

When the awful crushing weight on his body seemed unbearable, when he felt as though he would never be able to draw another breath, suddenly the pressure lifted and Tom felt amazingly and wonderfully buoyant. He seemed to be floating in mid-air, his body rising against the webbed straps of his chair! With a start and a momentary wave of panic, he realized that he was floating! Only the straps kept him from rising to the ceiling of the control room!

Recovering quickly, he realized that he was in free fall. The ship had cleared the pull of earth’s gravity and was out in space where everything was weightless. Reaching toward the control panel, he flipped the switch for the synthetic-gravity generator and, seconds later, felt the familiar and reassuring sensation of the chair under him as the generator supplied an artificial-gravity field to the ship.

As he loosened the straps in his chair, he noticed Captain Strong rising from his position beside him and he grinned sheepishly in answer to the twinkle in Strong’s eye.

“It’s all right, Tom,” reassured Strong. “Happens to everyone the first time. Carry on.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Tom and he turned to the microphone. “Control deck to all stations! We are in space! Observe standard cruise procedure!”

“Power deck, aye!” was Astro’s blasting answer over the loud-speaker. “Yeeeoooww! Out where we belong at last.”

“Radar bridge here,” Roger’s voice chimed in softly on the speaker. “Everything under control. And, Astro, you belong in a zoo if you’re going to bellow like that!”

“Ahhh—rocket off, bubblehead!” The big Venusian’s reply was good-natured. He was too happy to let Roger get under his skin.

“All right, you two,” interrupted Tom. “Knock it off. We’re on a ship now. Let’s cut the kindergarten stuff!”

“Aye, aye, skipper!” Astro was irrepressible.

“Yes, sir!” Roger’s voice was soft but Tom recognized the biting edge to the last word.

Turning away from the controls, he faced Captain Strong who had been watching quietly.

“Polaris space-borne at nine hundred thirty-three hours, Captain Strong. All stations operating efficiently.”

“Very competent job, Corbett,” nodded Strong in approval. “You handled the ship as if you’d been doing it for years.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We’ll just cruise for a while on this orbit so you boys can get the feel of the ship and of space.” The Solar Guard officer took Tom’s place in the command pilot’s chair. “You knock off for a while. Go up to the radar bridge and have a look around. I’ll take over here.”

“Yes, sir.” Tom turned and had to restrain himself from racing up the ladder to the radar bridge. When he climbed through the hatch to Roger’s station, he found his unit-mate tilted back in his chair, staring through the crystal blister over his head.

“Hiya, spaceboy,” smiled Roger. He indicated the blister. “Take a look at the wide, deep and high.”

Tom looked up and saw the deep blackness that was space.

“It’s like looking into a mirror, Roger,” he breathed in awe. “Only there isn’t any other side—no reflection. It just doesn’t stop, does it?”

“Nope,” commented Roger, “it just goes on and on and on. And no one knows where it stops. And no one can even guess.”

“Ah—you’ve got a touch of space fever,” laughed Astro. “You’d better take it easy, pal.”

Tom suppressed a smile. Now, for the first time, he felt that there was a chance to achieve unity among them. Kill him with kindness, he thought, that’s the way to do it.

“All right, boys!” Captain Strong’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Time to pull in your eyeballs and get to work again. We’re heading back to the spaceport! Take your stations for landing!”

Tom and Astro immediately jumped toward the open hatch and started scrambling down the ladder toward their respective stations while Roger strapped himself into his chair in front of the astrogation panel.

Within sixty seconds the ship was ready for landing procedure and at a nod from Captain Strong, who again strapped himself into the second pilot’s chair, Tom began the delicate operation.

Entering Earth’s atmosphere, Tom gave a series of rapid orders for course changes and power adjustments, and then, depressing the master turn control, spun the ship around so that she would settle stern first toward her ramp at the Academy spaceport.

“Radar deck to control deck,” called Roger over the intercom. “One thousand feet to touchdown!”

“Control deck, aye,” answered Tom. “Control deck to power deck. Check in.”

“Power deck, aye,” replied Astro.

“Stand by to adjust thrust to maximum drive at my command,” ordered Tom.

“Power deck, aye.”

The great ship, balanced perfectly on the hot exhaust, slowly slipped toward the ground.

“Five hundred feet to touchdown,” warned Roger.

“Main rockets full blast,” ordered Tom.

The sudden blast of the powerful jets slowed the descent of the ship, and finally, fifty feet above the ground, Tom snapped out another order.

“Cut main rockets! Hold auxiliary!”

A moment later there was a gentle bump and the Polaris rested on the ramp, her nose pointed to the heavens.

“Touchdown!” yelled Tom. “Cut everything, fellas, and come up and sign the log. We made it—our first hop into space! We’re spacemen!”