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"Get your hands in the air and stay right where you are!" Puzzled, Tom did as he was told, announcing, "I'm Space Cadet Tom Corbett, Polaris unit. I request immediate transportation to Commander Walters. I have important information for him."
Schohari came rushing in behind him, and at running stride, met the ball squarely with his right foot. It sailed high in the air and over the Polaris goal line just as the whistle blew. The game was tied. "That was some play, Manning," said Astro, when they were lined up waiting for the next period to begin.
"What do you mean, Roger?" "The ship's communicator," snorted Roger. "I figured once we got aboard the scout we'd be able to use this set to contact the Academy instead of having to monkey around with the homemade job back on the Polaris. But it's no soap." "Why not?" boomed Astro over the intercom. "The only open circuit here is beamed to the Polaris.
Vidac is about as fine a man as I could get! Now don't bother me again. You've done a fine job, as I said. But don't let it go to your heads!" "Yes, sir," said Tom, clamping his teeth together. "Very well, sir!" "One more thing," said Hardy. "We've about finished here at Luna City. When you've processed the last of the applicants, prepare the Polaris for a return trip to Space Academy."
"Time!" roared Strong and glanced at the astral chronometer over his head. The boys crowded around as the Solar Guard captain quickly computed Tom's score. "Nine minutes, fifty-one seconds, and two corrections," he announced, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "We win! We win!" roared Roger. "Term honors go to the Polaris!"
He turned and called to a man standing on the other side of the hangar, studying a radar scanner for private yachts. "Hey, Rex, mind coming over here a minute." The man walked over. He was in his late thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, his hair was almost snow-white, contrasting sharply with his deeply tanned and handsome features. "This is the Polaris unit from Space Academy, Rex," said Keene.
Glacial catastrophes, snowstorm episodes, glittering auroral effects, Polaris in the zenith, Franklin underfoot, the category of his commonplaces was wonderful. But the bird, like many other philosophers, seemed as he looked at the reddleman to think that a present moment of comfortable reality was worth a decade of memories.
He then opened the circuit to the teleceiver screen overhead and spoke to the spaceport control tower. "Polaris to spaceport control. Request permission to blast off. Request orbit." "Spaceport traffic to Polaris. Your orbit has been cleared 089 repeat 089 blast off in two minutes ..." "Orbit 089 blast off minus one fifty-nine fifty-eight." "You read me clear, Polaris ..."
Within seconds he and the young cadet were aboard the jet boat again and, not stopping to answer Astro's or Roger's questions, he jammed his foot down hard on the acceleration lever, sending the tiny ship blasting away from the Polaris. Not until they were two miles away from the stricken rocket ship did Connel bring the craft to a stop.
In 1957 we spent more than one billion dollars on the Arias, Titan, Thor, Jupiter, and Polaris programs alone. But I repeat, gratifying though this rate of progress is, we must still do more! Our real problem, then, is not our strength today; it is rather the vital necessity of action today to ensure our strength tomorrow. What I have just said applies to our strength as a single country.
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