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When would either the steward or the Medic recover enough to view those tri-dee shots? Or was that "when" really an ominous "if?" Back in the Queen, sealed once more for blast-off, they took their stations. Dane speculated as to the course Rip had set were they just going to wander about the system hoping to escape notice until they had somehow solved their problem?
There wasn't much to see at such speed. The three members of the Polaris unit left the shack to return to their task of inspection. They passed the maintenance hangar where Kit Barnard was readying his ship for blast-off in the next half hour. "Any last-minute hitches, Kit?" asked Astro, vitally interested in the new reactor unit and its cooling system. Kit smiled wearily and shook his head.
The young curly-haired cadet turned to the control board and flipped on the teleceiver. "Rocket cruiser Polaris to spaceport control tower," he called. "Request blast-off orbit and clearance!" The traffic-control officer in the spaceport tower answered immediately. "Control tower to Polaris. You are cleared for blast-off at 1405 hours, orbital tangent 867."
Major 'Blast-off' Connel, for instance, the toughest, meanest old son of a hot rocket you have ever seen!" "Stand to!" The six boys nearly broke their backs jumping to attention. A squat, muscular figure, wearing the black-and-gold uniform of a Solar Guard, strode heavily into their line of vision. Roger gulped as Major Connel stopped in front of him. "Still gassing, eh, Manning?" he roared.
"Why, twenty minutes to blast-off time, sir," answered the blond-headed cadet. "Then it won't go off for another forty minutes," said Connel. "But, sir " began Roger, and then fell silent. The room was quiet. Everyone looked at Roger and then at Connel. "Honestly, sir, I didn't mean to make a mistake. I " pleaded Roger. Connel turned around. His face suddenly looked very tired.
"You know there are never any details, Corbett," said Strong with a little edge in his voice. Then he immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Tom. Gigi was an old friend." The door behind them opened and an enlisted spaceman stepped inside, saluting smartly. "Ready for the next blast-off, Captain Strong," he announced.
"Ready for blast-off!" "Control deck, ready for blast-off," said Tom, and then turned to the logbook and jotted down the time in the ship's journal. The astral chronometer over the control board read exactly 1350 hours. Fifteen minutes later Captain Strong and Governor Hardy climbed aboard and Tom received the order to raise ship.
Dashing up the metal ladder, Connel roared the order to the waiting ground crew. "Stand by to blast off." Carter Devers scrambled up into the giant ship after the Solar Guard officer, and in less than a minute later, all ports were sealed and the Polaris was ready for space. In the pilot's chair, Connel called traffic control for blast-off, and at the same time prepared to raise ship.
He couldn't understand Miles' actions in taking him prisoner the moment before blast-off from Earth, and then keeping him at the asteroid, seemingly giving up all chances of winning the race. Roger waited until he was sure that the black-clad spaceman had gone, then he sat up and worked desperately on the thin metal chain binding his wrists.
"Have to make sure there isn't anyone near the ship when we blast off. The rocket exhaust is powerful enough to blow a man two hundred feet, to say nothing of burning him to death." "You mean, sir " began Tom, not daring to hope. "Of course, Corbett," smiled Strong. "Take your stations for blast-off. We raise ship as soon as we get orbital clearance from spaceport control!"
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