Danger in Deep Space Part 6

"Blast off minus five--four--three--two--one--_zero!_"

Tom threw the switch.

Slowly the giant s.h.i.+p raised itself from the ground. Then faster and faster, pus.h.i.+ng the four s.p.a.cemen deep into their acceleration cus.h.i.+ons, it hurtled s.p.a.ceward.

In a few seconds the _Polaris_ was gravity-free. Once again, Earthmen had started another journey to the stars.

CHAPTER 4

"Stand by to reduce speed three-quarters!" roared Major Connel.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Tom, and began the necessary adjustments on the control panel. He spoke into the intercom. "Control deck to power deck.

Stand by to reduce thrust on main drive rockets by three-quarters. We're coming onto the s.p.a.ce station, Astro."

"Power deck, aye," acknowledged Astro.

Drifting in a steady orbit around its mother planet, the Venus s.p.a.ce station loomed ahead of the _Polaris_ like a huge metal ball set against a backdrop of cold, black s.p.a.ce. It was studded with gaping holes, air locks which served as landing ports for s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps. Inside the station was a compact city. Living quarters, communications rooms, repair shops, weather observations, meteor information, everything to serve the great fleet of Solar Guard and merchant s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps plying the s.p.a.ce lanes between Earth, Mars, Venus, and t.i.tan.

"I'm getting the identification request from the station, sir. Shall I answer her?" asked Roger over the intercom.

"Of course, you s.p.a.ce-brained idiot, and make it fast!" exploded Connel.

"What do you want to do? Get us blasted out of s.p.a.ce?"

"Yes, sir!" replied Roger. "Right away, sir!"

Tom kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen above his head. The image of the s.p.a.ce station loomed large and clear.

"Approaching a little too fast, I think, sir," volunteered Tom. "Shall I make the adjustment?"

"What's the range?" asked Connel.

Tom named a figure.

"Ummmmh," mused Connel. He glanced quickly over the dials and then nodded in a.s.sent. Tom turned once more to the intercom. "Control deck to power deck," he called. "Stand by for maneuvering, Astro, and reduce your main drive thrust to minimum s.p.a.ce speed."

"s.p.a.ce station traffic control to rocket cruiser _Polaris_. Come in, _Polaris_. This is traffic control on s.p.a.ce station to _Polaris_," the audio teleceiver crackled.

"Rocket cruiser _Polaris_ to s.p.a.ce station and traffic control. Request touchdown permission and landing-port number," replied Tom.

"Permission to touch down granted, _Polaris_. You are to line up on approach to landing-port seven--repeat--seven. Am now sending out guiding radar beam. Can you read beam?"

Tom turned to the intercom. "Have you got the station's guiding beam, Roger?"

"All lined up, Tom," replied Roger from the radar bridge. "Get that Venusian on the power deck to give me a three-second shot on the starboard rocket, if he can find the right handles!"

"I heard that, Manning!" roared Astro's voice on the intercom. "Another crack like that and I'll make you get out and push this baby around!"

"_You execute that order and do it blasted quick!_" Major Connel's voice exploded over the intercom. "And watch that loose talk on the s.h.i.+p's intercom. From now on, all directions and orders will be given and received in a crisp, clear manner without unnecessary familiarity!"

Connel didn't expect them to acknowledge his order. The cadets had heard him and that was enough. He knew it was enough. In the short time it had taken them to traverse the immense gulf of s.p.a.ce between the Academy and the station Connel had handed out demerits by fives and tens! Each of the cadets was now tagged with enough black marks to spend two months in the galley working them off!

Now, working together like the smooth team of junior s.p.a.cemen they were, Tom, Roger, and Astro maneuvered the great rocket s.h.i.+p toward the gaping hole of the air lock in the side of the white ball-like satellite.

"Drop your bow one half degree, _Polaris_, you're up too high," warned the station control.

"A short burst on the upper trim rocket, Astro," called Tom.

The great s.h.i.+p bucked slightly under the force of sudden thrust, and then its nose dropped the required half degree.

"Cut all thrust and brake your speed to dead s.h.i.+p, _Polaris_," ordered traffic control.

Again Tom relayed the order to Astro, and a moment later the great s.h.i.+p hung silently in the airless void of s.p.a.ce, a scant half mile from the station.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The junior s.p.a.ceman maneuvered the great rocket s.h.i.+p toward the air lock_]

Through the teleceiver Tom could see the jet boats darting out from the station carrying the magnetic cables. In a moment the lines were attached to the steel skin of the s.h.i.+p, and gradually the lines tightened, pulling the mighty s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p into the waiting port. Once inside, the outer air lock was closed and the _Polaris_ was slung in the powerful magnetic cradles that held her in a rigid position. Elsewhere on the satellite, quick calculations were made for the additional weight, and the station was counterbalanced to a.s.sure an even orbit around Venus.

Tom flicked the many switches off on the great board, glanced at the time of arrival on the solar clock, and reported to Major Connel.

"Touchdown at one-nine-four-nine, sir."

"Very well, Corbett," answered Connel. Then he added grudgingly, "That was as fine a job of control-deck operations as I've seen. Keep up the good work, s.p.a.ceman."

Tom gulped. The unexpected compliment caught him off guard. And he was even more pleased that for the first time Connel had referred to him as s.p.a.ceman!

"I'll be needed at the s.p.a.ce station commander's quarters for a while, Corbett," said Connel. "Meanwhile, you and Manning and Astro acquaint yourselves with the station. Report to me back aboard the s.h.i.+p in exactly two hours. Dismissed."

Tom saluted, and Connel disappeared toward the exit port.

"Well, _s.p.a.ceman_," Roger drawled casually from behind, "it looks like you've got yourself in solid with the old man!"

Tom smiled. "With a guy like that, Roger, you're never in solid. Maybe I did get a pat on the back, but you didn't hear him cancel any of those demerits he gave me for not signing the logbook after that last watch, did you?"

"Let's get some chow," growled Astro, who came hustling through the hatch. "I'm half starved. By the craters of Luna, how many times can you change course in five minutes?"

Astro referred to the countless times Tom had had to call for fraction-degree course changes in their approach to the gaping entrance port.

Tom laughed. "With Connel on the bridge, you're lucky I didn't give you twice as many," he replied. "Can you imagine what would have happened if we had missed and hit the station?"

"Brrrrrr!" shuddered Roger. "I hate to think about it. Come on. Let's rustle up some grub for the Venusian. I could use some myself."

The three boys quickly changed to their dress blue cadet uniforms and left the s.h.i.+p. A moment later they were being whisked up an electric elevator to the main--or "street"--level. The door opened, and they stepped out into a large circular area about the size of a city block in the rear of the station. The area had been broken into smaller sections.

One side of the "street" was devoted to shops, a small stereo house which was playing the latest Liddy Tamal hit, "Children of s.p.a.ce" (a sensational drama about the lives of men in the future), restaurants, and even a curio shop. The Venus s.p.a.ce station handled ninety per cent of the traffic into and out of Venusport. It was a refueling stop for the jet liners and s.p.a.ce freighters bound for the outer planets, and for those returning to Earth. Some s.h.i.+ps went directly to Venusport for heavy overhaul or supplies, but the station was established primarily for quick turn arounds. Several ex-enlisted s.p.a.cemen who had been injured or retired were given special permission to open shops for the convenience of the pa.s.sengers and crews of the s.h.i.+ps and the staff of the station. In twenty years the station had become a place where summer tourists from Earth and winter tourists from t.i.tan made a point of stopping. The first of its kind in the universe, it was as near a perfect place to live as could be built by man.

Tom, Roger, and Astro strolled down the short street, pus.h.i.+ng through a crowd of tourists admiring the shops. Finally they found a restaurant that specialized in Venusian dishes.