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"Well, did you put them through their paces?" he asked as he jerked his thumb toward the door. "Yes, sir!" said Tom. "Did they know their manual? Or give you any lip when you started giving them hot rockets?" Connel referred to the hazing that was allowed by the Academy, only as another of the multitude of tests given to cadets.
"Cut that acceleration!" Shinny grinned and cut the rockets. The jet-boat catapult deck was quiet, and Connel turned back to the communicator. "Come in, Manning Astro! This is Major Connel. Come in!" On the opposite side of the airless satellite, Roger and Astro were busy digging a hole in the hard surface. Near by lay the last of the explosive units to be installed.
"Have something to cool you off." "Thanks," said Connel. "I can use it. Whew! Must be at least one twenty in the shade." Sinclair chuckled. "This way, Major." They didn't say anything more until Connel was resting comfortably in a deep chair, admiring the crystal roof of Sinclair's house.
As the sharp clang of the emergency alarm rang out, Tom did not stop to question Roger's sudden order. Neutralizing all controls, he leaped for the hatch leading below. Taking the ladder four steps at a time, Tom saw Major Connel tear out of his quarters. The elder spaceman dived for the ladder himself, not stopping to ask questions. He was automatic in his reliance on the judgment of others.
It's true they speak the Venusian dialect, these groups have taken names from the old Venusian explorers, but I hardly think it is worth while investigating." "Do they have a headquarters?" Connel asked. "A central meeting place?" "So far as I know, they don't. But Al Sharkey, the owner of the largest plantation on Venus, is the president of the organization. He's a very amiable fellow.
"You mean, sir," asked Tom, perplexed, "you'll tear the satellite out of Tara's gravitational pull?" "That's right, Tom," replied Connel, "using the same principle to clear gravity that we use on the Polaris or any spaceship. Enough power from the rockets will blast the Polaris off Tara.
"All right," he said. "I'll take you up on that." Barret grinned, stuck out his hand, and after a friendly shake turned and ran to the professor's office. Connel walked back to the outside of the hangar and began bellowing orders for the giant ship to be brought out to the blast ramp and prepared for the blast-off. But Dave Barret did not go directly to Professor Hemmingwell's office.
"If I know you, Lou Connel, you'll be up all night working out standard operational procedures for the space projectiles." He turned to Strong. "He's so sure this will work that he's already writing a preliminary handbook for the enlisted personnel." Strong turned and looked at the major, amazed. Every day he learned more and more about the space-hardened veteran. Connel turned to Strong.
"I didn't expect you until this evening." "Got away earlier than I figured," replied the elder man, who then turned to the two Solar Guard officers. "Hello, Commander Walters, Major Connel. Meet Dave Barret, my assistant." He gestured toward the young man beside him and they shook hands in turn. "Well," said Devers, "have we missed anything?" "Just starting," replied Walters. "Fine," said Devers.
Just knowing that Tom and Major Connel were right across the canyon gave him a surge of confidence. Working over the machine quickly, surely, the big cadet began to formulate a plan. Now was the time! They were together again. Now was the time to escape! "Put your back against the door, Tom!" snapped Connel. "Quickly!"
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