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Up forward, at two small tables immediately in front of the Council's platform, the Polaris and Capella units sat rigidly, while their defense lawyers arranged papers and data on the table for quick reference. Little Alfie Higgins didn't say a word to Tom, Roger, or Astro, merely studied his opponent, Cadet Benjy Edwards, who was acting as attorney for the Capella unit.
He was too far away to pick up an image on the teleceiver, but the others could hear him on the audio, if, thought Tom, they were still alive. "Attention! Attention! Polaris to Major Connel! Major Connel, can you hear me? Come in, Major Connel Astro Roger somebody come in!"
Loring, sitting inside the jet boat, waited until they had reached an altitude of five hundred miles. "All right, Manning," said Loring, "give me the course!" Roger calculated the rotational speed of the planet, the Space Devil's altitude, and the speed of the jet boat. He drew a line between the Space Devil and Polaris, checked it on the astro compass, and reached for the intercom mike.
Johnnie said to the star, enviously. "So, please, where is Father Pat?" But Polaris only stared back at him. Bright and hard, calm and unchanging, what difference did it make to so proud a beacon the woe of one small boy? Joy cometh with the morning. This time Joy wore the disguise of a cowboy who had a black eye, a bag of apples, a newspaper, and two cigars.
"Get a free ride to Tara!" "But how? I only got a few hundred credits and you ain't got much more. There ain't nobody going to go fifty billion miles on nothing!" Loring's eyes followed the massive figure of Major Connel on the slidewalk as it swept across the spaceport field toward the Polaris. "You just buy us a coupla seats on the next rocket to Venusport and stop asking stupid questions.
We'll give you thirty-six hours to make it. At exactly noon, day after tomorrow, we'll knock out their radar." "But how, sir?" asked Tom. "Never mind. We'll figure out something. Just get back to the Polaris and tell the Solar Guard to attack at noon, day after tomorrow. If you don't and the fleet attacks earlier, or later, they'll be wiped out." "What about you, sir?" asked Tom.
Unit instructor for the Polaris crew and Commander Walters' executive officer, Strong was not as adept as Walters in masking his feelings, and his face clearly showed his annoyance at Brett's outbursts. He had sat the full forty-eight hours with the Council while they argued, not over costs, but in an effort to make sure that none of the companies would be slighted in their final decision.
The boys of the Polaris unit weren't alone in their disobedience. All over the dormitory, lights were on and cadets were studying secretly. But they all felt fairly safe, for the cadet watch officers on each floor were anxious to study themselves and turned a blind eye.
He proceeded up to latitude 82 degrees 16 minutes North; but here the Polaris was beset in the ice at last; hitherto all had been plain sailing. They reached winter quarters in September, and named the place "Thank God" Bay, latitude 81 degrees 38 minutes North, longitude 61 degrees 44 minutes West. The winter was fatal to Captain Hall.
The central communicator over the door suddenly buzzed, and the three cadets waited for the announcement. "... Cadets Corbett and Astro report to rocket cruiser Polaris for indoctrination on hyperdrive on the double by order of Major Connel." Tom and Astro got up.
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