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Updated: May 19, 2025
"And with Quent Miles in there, it's going to be a very hot race," asserted Strong. "Ummmmh," Walters grunted. "He's the unknown quantity. Did you see that ship of his? Never saw anything more streamlined in my whole life." "And the cadets said he stripped her of everything but the hull plates." "It paid off for him," said Walters.
And that he hasn't been able to flush it out with the blowers." "Ummmmh," mused Strong thoughtfully. "Well, in that case, stand by, Corbett. I'll get in touch with Commander Walters right away." "Very well, sir," replied Tom. He turned from the teleceiver and climbed up to the radar deck. "Well, hot-shot," said Roger, "looks like you've made yourself a hero this trip."
He turned to face the little man with the glasses. "I had a choice of either saving about fifteen passengers on the jet boats, and leaving the others, or take a chance on saving everybody by using the power to send out a message." "Ummmmh," said Strong to himself. He felt confidence in a young spaceman who would take a decision like that on himself. "What was that Geiger count again?" he asked.
Even if the ship were to accelerate a million times faster than the gravity of the Earth you wouldn't feel a thing, because all the atoms inside would be pushed along at the same time!" Astro sat back triumphantly. "Ummmmh," commented Alfie. "That sounds all right as a principle, but will it work out in space?" "Listen, you you " snorted Astro. "Sure it will, Alfie," said Tom.
With one sweeping glance he took in the control deck and the evidence of their work. "Unit staaaaand to!" he roared. Astro climbed into the control deck and snapped to attention with his unit-mates as Connel began a quick but thorough check of the many dials and switches and relays on the control panel. "Ummmmh," he mused. "Been doing a little work, I see." "Oh, nothing special, sir," said Roger.
Roger grunted in appreciation of the way Astro had treated Alfie's fears and turned back to the loading of the fuel. Major Connel walked over and watched them transfer the last of the fuel into the tanks. "How much have you got there, Astro?" he asked. "I'd say enough to sustain flight for about three hours, sir. Considering we'll have such a big load." "Ummmmh," mused Connel.
"Did they change their story?" asked Connel. "None at all. They were hooking a ride back to Atom City, and they were asleep in the cargo hold. Jardine, one of the pilots, came in and told them to pile out. They did." "Ummmmh," mused Connel. "I know those two, Loring and Mason. Had a little trouble with them recently on a trip to Tara. Suspended their papers.
The image of the space station loomed large and clear. "Approaching a little too fast, I think, sir," volunteered Tom. "Shall I make the adjustment?" "What's the range?" asked Connel. Tom named a figure. "Ummmmh," mused Connel. He glanced quickly over the dials and then nodded in assent. Tom turned once more to the intercom. "Control deck to power deck," he called.
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