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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Yah, yah, yah!" jeered one of the negroes who had come up with Foreman Corbett, as he gazed contemptuously up and down the bulky figure of Mr. Ebony. "Yo' done been tellin' us 'spectable cullud fo'ks dat de great way to injye life was to be tough an' smaht, lak yo'se'f. How ye' feel erbout it now? Doan' yo' wish yo' been mo' 'spectable yo'se'f?
The cadet stood up, noticed the time on the astral chronometer, and turned to face Captain Strong, rising from the chair beside him. "Polaris made touchdown, planet Venus, at exactly 1543, sir," he said and saluted crisply. Strong returned the salute. "Good work, Corbett," he said. "You handled her as though she was nothing more than a baby carriage!"
Interviews with everybody, and all were agreed that he was the most likely heavy since Jeffries. Corbett admitted that, while in his prime he could doubtless have bested the new wonder, he would have found him a tough customer. Everyone said that Byrne's future was assured.
Strong clenched his fists. "Asleep, huh?" he growled. "Get me the Space Knight!" The boy returned to the audioceiver and began calling Miles, but there was no reply. After a few minutes Walters interrupted, "We can't waste any more time here, Steve. We've got to blast off!" "Get hold of Corbett on the Space Lance," said Strong to the spaceman.
It was an advertisement for breakfast food. In my indignation the spade slipped through my cramped and perspiring fingers, and as it struck the bottom of the pit, something a band of iron, a steel lock, an iron ring gave forth a muffled sound. My heart stopped beating as suddenly as though Mr. Corbett had hit it with his closed fist. My blood turned to melted ice.
"Well," asked Astro, "what has the great Manning brain figured out?" "There's no chance at all," said Roger slowly. "You're wrong, Corbett, about this being midday. It's early morning!" He pointed to a chronometer on the bulkhead behind Astro. "It's still running. I made a mental note before we splashed in, it was eight-O-seven. That clock says nine-O-three.
When Sullivan met Corbett at New Orleans, Gentleman Jim landed the champion a terrific jolt with his right, smiled sweetly and said, "To think, John, of your coming all the way from Boston to get that also this"; then he gave him another with his left. One morning, at daylight, when Morris got to the Stockyards, he found all the pens empty.
The first on the look-out were, of course, the smugglers; they, and those on board the revenue-cutter, were the only two interested parties the yacht was neuter. "There are two cutters in sight, sir," said Corbett, who had the watch; for Pickersgill, having been up the whole night, had thrown himself down on the bed with his clothes on.
Connel, with Tom piloting the jet boat, finished setting up their units at points one, two, and three and headed back to the Polaris. "How much time, sir?" asked Tom as he slowed the small craft for a landing. "Less than a half hour, Corbett," said Connel nervously. "I'd better check on Shinny and Alfie." He called into the audiophone. "Major Connel to Shinny and Higgins, come in Shinny Higgins!"
But my point is this: Since a cadet unit is assembled only after careful study of their individual psychograph personality charts and is passed and failed as a unit, even though a boy like Cadet Astro might make a failing grade, his unit mates, Cadets Manning and Corbett, can pull him through by making higher passing marks.
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