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Updated: May 22, 2025
"But I checked those feeders myself, just before you closed the casing," he said. "They were all right then." "Are you sure?" asked Sid. "Of course I'm sure," said Astro. "Checking the feeders is one of my main jobs." "Then it must be the reactant," said Tom. "Did Kit use standard reactant?" Sid nodded. "Got it right here at the spaceport. Same stuff everyone else is using."
"But if we go beyond the two-hour limit, the Polaris can't blast off either," commented Roger dryly. "All right. Is everything set?" asked Connel. "Astro, is the reactant loaded?" "No, sir," said Astro, "but it's all ready to go in." "Good!" said Connel. "Now we all know how important and how dangerous this operation is. I don't have to tell you again.
His eyes were bloodshot for want of sleep, but there was a merry twinkle left tugging at the corners. "Everything?" asked Connel. "Everything, sir," said Roger. "The power units are built and the fuses installed. All it needs is to be set. Tom's worked out the ratios and the amount of reactant fuel needed in each unit for escape tangent.
"One well-placed reactant bomb, and they'll never know a thing!" sneered Loring. "But you don't have any bombs aboard," said Roger. "A little of the fuel and I can build one easily enough," replied Loring. He turned to Mason. "Go below and suit up to go into the reaction chamber," he ordered. "Get an extra lead suit out. I'll go in and help you.
"I heard a terrific noise on the power deck as soon as we blasted off," Tom began. "And Captain Sticoon ordered me to go below and check on it. I saw the trouble right away. The lead baffles around the reactant chambers had become loose and the reactant was spilling out, starting to wildcat.
"What seems to be the trouble, Astro?" asked Connel. Astro turned, startled. "We've tried building that lead baffle for the reactant units five times now, sir," said Astro. "We're having a hard time getting the correct amount of reactant power we need in a unit this small." "Maybe you're trying to make it too small, Astro," commented Connel, looking over the drawing.
Tom was driving his heaviest force between the invading fleet and its objective forcing the aggressors into a trap. Tom gave more crisp orders to his squadrons. He asked Roger for an estimated range, and then, rechecking his position, turned again to the intercom. "Astro, how much could you get out of this baby by opening the by-pass between the cooling pumps and the reactant chamber?
"From the sound of those rockets," said Astro, "Kit's feeders are clogged, or there's something in his reactant that the strainers are not filtering out." "Well," sighed Roger, "there isn't anything Kit can do but keep going and hope that everything turns out for the best." "If he can keep going!" said Tom. "You know, there are some things about this whole race that really puzzle me."
"Getting the satellite back is the trickiest part of the whole operation. Astro, are you sure you made a correct estimate on the amount of reactant fuel in the Space Devil?" "Yes, sir," replied Astro. "I checked it four times, and Mr. Shinny checked it, too!" "All right, then, listen," said Connel. "I've given the satellite a name. From now on we call it Junior.
The response from that corner was immediate and emphatic. "Listen, you rocket-headed grease monkey," yelled Roger. "If you so much as smell that grub, I'll come down and feed you into the reactant chamber!" Tom smiled at Astro and turned to the ladder leading up from the power deck. Passing through the control deck on the way to the radar bridge, he glanced at the clock.
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