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Instead, there was a loud bang, followed by another, and then another. And only then did the ship begin to leave the ground, gradually picking up speed and shooting spaceward. "What was wrong?" asked Tom, looking at Sid. "The feeders," replied the young engineer miserably. "They're not functioning properly. They're probably jamming." Astro looked puzzled.
Tense, excited men gazed spaceward from the ships and planes of the South Atlantic task force. Other watchers waited breathlessly in the control room of the ship Recoverer. Among these was Tom Swift Jr. "How close to earth is our Jupiter probe missile?" Bud Barclay asked Tom excitedly. The lanky blond youth beside him, in T shirt and slacks, shot a glance at the dials of the tracking equipment.
Suddenly there was an explosive roar behind them and they spun around. On the opposite side of the canyon three rocket ships were hurtling spaceward. "They must have spotted our fleet coming in," said Connel, a puzzled frown on his face. "But how could they?" asked Astro. "We knocked out their radar!" Connel slammed his fist into the palm of his hand.
The Deimos tower operator's voice droned over the loud-speaker on the control deck of the Space Lance " ... minus five, four, three, two, one" then the breath-taking pause before the climactic "zero!" The ship shot spaceward, rockets roaring loudly in the thin atmosphere of the small satellite.
"Don't tell me that's all they've got!" exclaimed Strong. "Why, we still have the rest of the fleet coming in at 1205!" Suddenly Tom froze in his seat. Before him on the radar scanner he saw a new cluster of white blips, seemingly coming from nowhere. They were enemy ships, hurtling spaceward to meet the Solar Guard fleet. "Captain Strong! Look! More of them. From secret ramps in the jungle!"
Without any preliminaries, Kit Barnard's order sent the Good Company hurtling spaceward. Astro had just enough time to throw himself into an acceleration chair before the ship shot away from the Deimos spaceport toward the wreckage of the Space Lance. "Braking rockets!" roared Kit. "Hit them hard, Sid."
Then faster and faster, pushing the four spacemen deep into their acceleration cushions, it hurtled spaceward. In a few seconds the Polaris was gravity-free. Once again, Earthmen had started another journey to the stars. "Stand by to reduce speed three-quarters!" roared Major Connel. "Aye, aye, sir," replied Tom, and began the necessary adjustments on the control panel. He spoke into the intercom.
There was a sudden, ear-shattering roar and smoke and flame poured from the exhaust of the ship, spilling over the blast-off ramp. The ship rocked from side to side gently, rose into the air slowly, and then gathering speed began to move spaceward. In a moment it was gone and only the echoing blasts of thunder from its exhausts remained.
They knew Quent Miles would not hesitate to blast off whether anyone was within range of his exhaust or not. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one zero!" Again the spaceport reverberated to the sound of a ship blasting off. All eyes watched the weirdly painted black ship shudder under the surge of power, and then shoot spaceward as if out of a cannon.
He got up and walked to the window and looked out across the Academy campus, over the green lawns and white buildings connected by the rolling slidewalks, to the gleaming crystal Tower, the symbol of man's conquest of space. And beyond the Tower building, Tom saw a spaceship blasting off from the spaceport, her rockets bucking hard against thin air as she clawed her way spaceward.
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