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Updated: May 29, 2025
Connel's voice roared over the intercom. "You were ordered to report to the control deck in five minutes! You are already one minute late! Report to the control deck on the double and I mean double!" Loring and Mason laughed. "Old 'Blast-off' Connel's really got your number, eh, kid?" "Ah, rocket off, you pinheaded piece of space junk! It didn't take him long to dampen your tubes!"
"What are your plans for our search expedition, skipper?" Bud asked. Tom ran his fingers through his crew cut. "Let's see. We'd better take the Sky Queen, I think, and also " Tom broke off as the desk intercom buzzed. Miss Trent, the Swifts' secretary, was on the wire. "Your father's calling over the radio, Tom." "Swell!" Tom flicked a switch to cut in the signal of his private telephone.
Verkan Vall and Dalla were sitting behind Tortha Karf's desk; Vall was issuing orders over the intercom and talking to the detectives who had remained at Salgath Trod's apartment by visiscreen; Dalla was sorting over the things she had spilled when her bag had burst. They both looked up as Tortha Karf came in and joined them. "The prisoner's still under the drug," the Chief said.
"Power deck, check in!" snapped Duke from the first chair. "Radar deck, check in!" "Just one moment, Mister," interrupted Roger. "When you issue an order over the intercom, I want to see you pick up that mike. I want to see all the motions. It's up to you, Misters, to make us believe that you are blasting off!" "Very well," replied Duke with a nervous glance back at his unit mates.
Above his head, the teleceiver screen brought him a clear picture of the Academy spaceport. He watched the giant cruisers take to the air one by one and rocket into the vastness of space. The clock hand reached the ten-second mark. "Stand by to raise ship!" Tom called into the intercom. The red hand moved steadily, inexorably. Tom reached for the master switch.
"Shall I alert stations to blast off for Junior?" asked Tom. "Yes," said Connel, "bring the Polaris to dead ship in space about three hundred miles above Junior. That's when we'll blast off in jet boats." "Yes, sir," said Tom. His eyes bright, he turned to the intercom. "All right, you space babies," he announced, "this is it. Stand by to blast Junior. Here we come!"
No longer did he doubt. How it was possible, the future might tell. But he did know the significance and the urgency of that message. He ripped the paper from the machine and pocketed it, then jumped to his desk and flipped the intercom switch. "Captain Jessup! A company of marines, in full armor and all weapons, at the main gate in trucks in two minutes. Hipe!"
The four missiles hurtled toward the two enemy destroyers, and a second later two brilliant flashes of light appeared on the scanner. Direct hits on the two destroyers! "Range ten thousand feet," came the calm voice over the intercom, reminding Strong of the enemy cruiser.
On the scanner was a jet boat in flight. "Hey, Loring! Shinny! Mason! Get up here on the double!" he yelled into the intercom. "What's up?" demanded Loring. "Get up here!" shouted Roger. "We're in for trouble plenty of trouble!" Presently the three spacemen were grouped around the scanner, staring at the unmistakable outline of a jet boat.
As the last sentence came over the loud-speaker, Mike sprang to the intercom. He quickly keyed the direct line to engineering. "Ishie," he said, "I gather you're safe?" "Yes, Mike. Situation here very secure. I heard announcement of conflict. You need not tell me to put the Cow under our control. It is done. She will obey no one else until further instructed from here.
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