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Gently the professor increased the power of the electro-magnetic ring and pulled the projectile back into the chamber as easily as slipping a hand in a glove. "Success!" Connel shouted. "Professor, you've done it!" "Congratulations, sir," Dave Barret called over the intercom from the power deck.
"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.
The uniforms were a brilliant green, with a white band across the chest. The men formed ranks, waited for a command from a man dressed in darker green, and then marched up toward the house. "By the craters of Luna!" roared Connel. "Who are they?" "The Nationalists!" cried Sinclair. "They threatened to burn down my house and destroy my farm if I wrote that letter to the delegate.
Admittedly feeling better, Tom turned to the master switch and found it missing. For a second panic seized him, until he remembered that Major Connel had hidden it. He felt under the pilot's chair and breathed easier, pulling out the vital instrument. "Better get into acceleration chairs," said Tom, strapping himself into his seat. "This might be a rough take-off."
Ten minutes of the two hours had swept past. They must be on Junior by now, he thought, and flipped on the teleceiver. He focused on the satellite's surface. There in front of him were the three jet boats. Major Connel, Roger, Astro, Alfie, and Mr. Shinny were so close that Tom felt as though he could touch them. They were unloading the first reactor unit, with Astro and Shinny digging the hole.
"Why, twenty minutes to blast-off time, sir," answered the blond-headed cadet. "Then it won't go off for another forty minutes," said Connel. "But, sir " began Roger, and then fell silent. The room was quiet. Everyone looked at Roger and then at Connel. "Honestly, sir, I didn't mean to make a mistake. I " pleaded Roger. Connel turned around. His face suddenly looked very tired.
"Raise your hands!" came the second command from a man who appeared directly in front of them. Standing squarely in front of them, the little man said something in the Venusian dialect and waited, but Connel and Tom remained silent. "I guess you don't speak the Venusian tongue," he sneered. "So I'll have to use the disgusting language of Earth!" He looked down at the unconscious form of Roger.
He had been assigned to work with the professor and to help protect him. Barret has admitted that he tried to murder Troy." "Humph!" snorted Connel, suddenly rising. The room was intensely quiet and Tom, Astro, and Roger felt that there was something coming. Strong could hardly suppress a grin as Connel took a paper from his tunic. "This message was received just fifteen minutes ago," he said.
"I'm working under direct orders of Commander Walters," said Connel grimly, "who is also a delegate to the Solar Council. His position as head of the Solar Guard is equal to yours in every respect. This request comes from his office, not out of my personal curiosity." "Ah, yes, of course, Major," replied James. "Of course."
Troy walked to the center of the room and sat down in the indicated chair, facing Walters, Connel, and Strong. "We'd like to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible, Troy," began Connel. "So I suggest that you tell us the truth and save us the trouble of pulling it out of you. "I will answer all of your questions to the best of my ability, sir," said Troy calmly.