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"Right," said Astro. "Meantime," said Tom, "Jeff and I will get you a set of earphones, if we have to tear them off the head of the radarman!" Meanwhile, in Vidac's quarters, the second-in-command was facing the irascible Professor Sykes. "Say that again, Professor," said Vidac. Sykes was standing before him holding a slip of paper in his hand.
Moments later, a red light flashed on the master control panel. Tom's finger stabbed a button. Far out in space, the retarding rockets in the missile's nose were triggered for a brief burst, slowing its high speed. Without this, the missile would hurtle to flaming destruction in the atmosphere. "We've picked it up!" shouted a radarman.
The speed could have been within reason provided it didn't stay constant. But it did. There was something traveling south at eleven miles a minute or better. A mile in five-plus seconds. It didn't slow. It didn't drop. The Canadian radarman debated painfully. He stopped his companion from the reading of a magazine article about chinchilla breeding in the home.
Roger's face turned a slow red while Tom and Astro grinned. After a few more words, the three cadets again headed for the jet-boat deck. "That Billy will make a fine radarman someday," drawled Astro. "How do you figure that, Astro?" asked Tom. "Did you see the way he spotted Roger's roving eye looking for his pretty sister? Why, in ten years, he'll be picking up asteroids the same way."
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