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Updated: May 5, 2025
"By the blessed rings of Saturn, she is!" exclaimed Connel. "Go on, Tom, give this baby the gun! If we have to die, let's die like spacemen, in space, fighting with spaceman's weapons, not crawling around here in the jungle like worms!" The three boys smiled at their skipper's rousing statement.
"Full thrust, Astro," ordered Tom, "but stand by for emergency maneuvers. This is going to be a tough trip, fellows. Perhaps the toughest trip we've ever made. So keep your eyes and ears open and spaceman's luck!" "Spaceman's luck!" echoed his unit mates.
"A man who's lost his space papers ain't going to take a chance at getting caught by the Solar Guard, busting the void with a rocket ship and no papers." He stopped, and his small gray eyes twinkled. "Unless," he added, "you've got quite a strike lined up!" "Hey, Loring!" yelled Mason, entering the café. He carried two spaceman's traveling bags, small black plastic containers with glass zippers.
Following Sid's pointing finger, Astro and Kit turned toward an exhaust tube that had been ripped in half by the explosion. The Martian spaceman's body floated next to it, limp and broken. Astro shuddered. If Sticoon was dead, then there was little hope for Tom. The big Venusian fought back tears.
They ate spaceman's gruel, heated on a little electric stove. And after a certain number of hours, they climbed over the side of the Moon, and made their own sunrise. After that, the going seemed easier. Gimp and Frank were just about talked out, by then. Helen Rodan looked after her slumbering father. Otherwise, she and Lester seemed wrapped up in each other.
"I believe that's all, gentlemen," announced Strong coldly, "and spaceman's luck to each of you." After the men had left, the three cadets crowded around Strong. "Do you think we'll have any trouble with Miles, sir?" asked Tom. "You have your orders, Tom," said Strong. "If any ship does not meet standards established for the race, it will be disqualified!"
The rest of the fleet will go in from above at 1205. Supporting squadrons are now on their way from Earth and Mars. Blast off at six hundred hours. Spaceman's luck!" "Good work, Tom," said Strong, when the conference broke up. "Yes, sir," said Tom. "But I can't help worrying about Roger and Astro and Major Connel. What's going to happen to them, sir?" Strong hesitated. "I don't know, Tom.
Strong rounded the desk and shook hands with each cadet. "This is an important mission, boys," he said soberly. "See that you give Major Connel all the support I know you're capable of giving. He'll need it. I doubt if I'll see you before you blast off, so this is it. Spaceman's luck to each of you!"
A few moments later Tom groaned and opened his eyes. "Did I did I stop the truck?" he asked weakly. "You sure did, son!" said Connel, breathing a sigh of relief. "And thank the lucky spaceman's stars that you're all right. I don't see how you got out alive." Tom sat up. "I jumped from the jet car at the last minute," he said. "I guess I must have bumped my head."
If Tom Preston is the Earthman, I'll turn in my spaceman's suit and proton disintegrator and resign from the human race." Rick grinned. "All right. We'll trust the Chief of Security on your say-so. What's the next step?" "Well, you're not old enough to have much of a work history, so we'll have to exaggerate your ages and the time you've worked.
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