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Updated: June 8, 2025
"I don't care who designed it," said Troy easily. "It didn't fit where the blueprint indicated. I had to redesign it." "Now, now," said Professor Hemmingwell, sensing trouble. "Take it easy, boys." "Professor," Barret exploded, "I insist that you fire this man!" "Fire me!" exclaimed Troy angrily. "Why, you space crawler, you're the one who should be fired.
Walters grinned and pulled the major back to the desk where they continued their discussion of the receivers on Mars. They had no sooner begun their discussion when the sliding door opened and Professor Hemmingwell burst into the room, his smock flying behind him, his hair ruffled and eyes wide with fright. "The ship! The ship!" he cried out.
"Power deck," Connel called into the intercom, "check in!" "Power deck, aye!" reported Barret. "Radar deck, check in!" "Radar deck, aye!" Professor Hemmingwell acknowledged in a thin voice. "Feed reactant!" Connel ordered. "Reactant feeding at D-9 rate," said Barret after a split-second pause. "Energize cooling pumps!" "Cooling pumps, aye!" "Cut in take-off gyros!" "Gyros on," repeated Barret.
When Connel shook his head, Devers spoke up again. "There is something else I would like to know, if it isn't a breach of military secrecy," he said with a smile at Connel. "I don't remember seeing anything about this project in the bills sent before the Solar Council. When was it authorized?" "It wasn't," snapped Hemmingwell. "It was blocked before it came to a vote.
Connel's face turned red and he glanced quickly at Walters, whose face was approaching the same color. Neither expected such a comment from a scientist. "Professor," said Connel heavily, leaning forward in his chair, "I assure you Steve Strong is not holding their hands. In fact, I would hate to be in those cadets' shoes right now." Hemmingwell grunted and drew back from Connel's burning glare.
"But there is still the possibility that it was an accident, as the professor said." Strong looked at Connel questioningly and then back to the wreckage. The unit had been hurled from the upper deck of the spaceship, down to the main deck, and it looked as if someone had trampled on its delicate works. "I'll have a crew put right to work on this," said Hemmingwell.
"Give me a ten-second burst on the starboard steering rockets," ordered Connel, gripping the steering vane control tightly. "Coming up!" There was a sudden, jolting blast from the stern and Connel and Hemmingwell hung on grimly as the mighty ship turned in space.
As the mighty ship blasted in a long, sweeping arc, Professor Hemmingwell sat numbly in his chair, aware only that the three cadets were taking the vessel back into the area where the remaining projectiles, completely out of control, were buzzing around in space like maddened hornets. "There he is!" Roger's voice rose to a triumphant shout on the intercom. "Put the brakes on this wagon!"
Walters and the professor suddenly stopped short and grinned at the brusque line officer, who, for all his bullying tactics, knew how to take the edge off a touchy situation. Walters sat down again and Hemmingwell spread out several large maps on Walters' desk. He pointed to a location on the chart of the area surrounding Space Academy.
The men moved away and Firehouse Tim led the guards back to their quarters. Professor Hemmingwell, Barret, and Astro remained where they were. Connel turned to Astro. "Good work, you dumb Venusian," he snorted. "But so help me, if you had burned this man, I, personally, would've buried you on a prison rock." The major then turned to Barret. "As for you " he snarled. "Yes?" asked Barret coolly.
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