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Troy, one of the first to be graphed, had been detained by the technicians longer than usual, but was now back at his bench, working on the unit. This incident gave Barret the opportunity he was looking for, and as he and Professor Hemmingwell strode through the hangar, he commented casually, "I hate to say this, sir, but I don't like the way Troy has been acting lately."
After many years of struggle to convince die-hard bankers of the soundness of his Space Projectile plan, followed by sabotage and costly work stoppages, it was heart-rending to have a "jinx" finally stop him. "I'm sorry," said Connel, "but that's the way things are, Professor." "I understand, Major," replied Hemmingwell wearily.
"How valuable would he be if this cadet had gone ahead and blasted him?" snarled Connel. "It's just another example of how these stupid boys have obstructed my work here," replied Hemmingwell angrily. "I can't see why they have to interfere this way. And they always pick on poor Dave." "Yes," snarled Barret. "I'm getting pretty tired of being a clay pigeon for a bunch of brats."
"Barret has spilled everything. You're cleared of all charges!" "What about Pat Troy?" asked Tom. "He's in the clear, too," said Strong. "You may remember that he refused to tell us who he was working for besides Professor Hemmingwell and that made us suspicious of him. Well, we found out, when he regained consciousness a short time ago, that he is a security agent for the Solar Alliance Council.
"This is the stuff I told you about, Professor," he said as Hemmingwell looked at it curiously. "What stuff?" asked Connel. "Portable heaters for the crew's space suits, just in case " Barret paused meaningfully. "In case of what?" growled Connel. "Why, ask them!" replied Barret, gesturing toward the group of civilian crewmen who had been selected for the test flight of the spaceship.
He showed Connel a list of names: Connel, Strong, Hemmingwell, Walters, Devers, and Barret. They were the only names on it. Connel nodded. "I understand," he said and turned to Tom. "You'll have to stay here, Corbett," he called. "Wait for me in the car." "Yes, sir," replied Tom and hopped back in the jet.
"What's the trouble?" growled Connel, noticing Hemmingwell's growing nervousness. "The homing ring on number six tube isn't working properly," replied Hemmingwell. "I can't control the projectile." "Any idea what's wrong?" the Solar Guard officer asked. "The settings on the ring must be wrong." The professor picked up the intercom mike. "Dave," he called, "check in!"
"You and Professor Hemmingwell were talking on the main deck while I was inside what will be the radar deck working. I heard you talking about the unit, and after you left, I happened to find a blueprint on the table. It coincided with what you had been talking about. I looked at it and then thought nothing of it. A few minutes later the professor came running in and took the blueprint away."
Tom sat down, eying Strong hopefully. "Now, let me get this straight," said Strong. "First you want me to help Astro and Roger escape from the work gang. All right, that may work easily enough. But why?" "So we can get aboard the projectile ship and go through her tests with her." "I suppose you've heard that Connel, Professor Hemmingwell, and Dave Barret are going to take her up."
"But you do not deny that you knew about the special unit that Professor Hemmingwell had created," he said. "A unit that only he and I knew about?" "I knew about the unit yes, sir," replied Troy. "How could you?" demanded Walters. "I overheard you both discussing it one day." "Where?" "In the hangar," said Troy.
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