Carey Rockwell - Tom Corbett Space Cadet 08 - The Robot Rocket

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THE ROBOT ROCKET

By CAREY ROCKWELL

A TOM CORBETT Space Cadet Adventure

WILLY LEY Technical Adviser

GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers New York

The Tom Corbett series:

STAND BY FOR MARS!, 1952

DANGER IN DEEP SPACE, 1953

ON THE TRAIL OF THE SPACE PIRATES, 1953

THE SPACE PIONEERS, 1953

THE REVOLT ON VENUS, 1954

TREACHERY IN OUTER SPACE, 1955

SABOTAGE IN SPACE, 1956

THE ROBOT ROCKET, 1956

ILLUSTRATIONS

Frontispiece

Obediently Astro hauled Roger down

Roger stepped forward to accept the medal

The jet taxi flashed along a beautiful jungle trail

They blasted off in a jet boat

Working against time, Monroe collected the valuable data

Tom jumped across the gap of space

CHAPTER 1

"Hey, Fellas!"

Space Cadet Roger Manning raced down the hall of the dormitory building at Space

Academy, U.S.A., pursuing his two unit mates of the Polaris crew.

"What's up, Roger?" asked Tom Corbett, the curly-haired command cadet of the unit.

"Yeah, hot-shot," growled Astro, the giant Venusian power jockey, "what are you fusing

your tubes about?"

The blond astrogator stopped beside them. "We don't have to worry about fixing up the

dormitory room for Captain Strong's party," he announced proudly.

"We don't?" asked Tom, throwing a puzzled glance at Astro. "Why not?"

"Because," replied Roger idly, brushing his nails on his blue Senior Cadet tunic, "I have

just made a deal with the Capella unit for their Earthworms to do it for us."

"A deal?" asked Tom. "What kind of deal?"

"I don't like this," growled Astro. "Any time Manning gets involved in a deal, I always end

up on the losing end! All right, Manning, let's have it."

"It's simple, my Venusian bird-brained friend," Roger explained. "Tony Richards wanted

to borrow my celestial tables-the ones I sent to New Chicago for-that cost me forty-three

credits-"

"So?" asked Tom suspiciously.

"His Earthworm cadets are loaded with demerits," Roger continued. "So I lent Tony my

tables and he lent me his cadets. We can sit around this afternoon while they do our work for

us." "And what is all this going to cost us?" asked the burly Venusian.

"Wait a minute, Astro." Tom stepped between the two cadets. "I don't think that's right,

Roger. This is our party for Captain Strong."

"I know it. So what?" demanded Roger.

"I don't think it's right to have someone else come in and do all the work."

"I agree," Astro added. "This is a surprise party to celebrate Captain Strong's fifteenth

anniversary in the Solar Guard. We're throwing it because we like him. He means something

special to us. So we should be happy to set it up all by ourselves."

"Now wait a minute!" exclaimed Roger. "I like Captain Strong as much as you do-but

this is work!"

Tom suppressed a smile. He knew full well his unit mate's reluctance to do anything that

involved physical exertion.

"If you don't want to help," he said, winking at Astro, "you don't have to."

"I didn't say I wouldn't help," Roger protested. "I just thought you guys would appreciate

what I was doing for you. After all, you reap the benefits too."

"Thanks, Roger," said Tom dryly. "But I'll just go ahead as we planned."

"But I already lent Tony the book of tables!" Roger wailed.

"That's too bad, Manning." Astro laughed. "I feel sorry for you. I really do. I could almost

fall down on my little hands and knees and cry."

At that moment three boys in the green uniforms of the first-year cadets appeared at the

far end of the hall and marched with precision toward Tom, Roger, and Astro.

"Here come the Earthworms now," whispered Tom. "Better send them back, Roger."

"Not before I have some fun with them," replied the blond-haired cadet. "I'm going to get

something out of this deal!"

"Nothing doing, Roger," said Tom, taking him by the shoulder and turning him away.

"The Capella unit gives them enough rocket wash without you putting in your two cents."

"Yeah, come on, Roger. We have work to do," said Astro, grasping his unit mate by the

front of his tunic. As easily as if he were lifting a bag of feathers, he hoisted Roger into the

air and swung him into their dormitory room.

The three cadets came to a stop before Tom and snapped to attention. "Earthworms

Monte, Coffin, and Mooney of the Capella unit reporting to Cadet Corbett as ordered, sir."

"At ease," Tom replied. "Take off. Roger decided he wouldn't need you after all."

"You mean it, Tom?" asked Monte incredulously. "You're not kidding us, are you?"

Tom shook his head. "No, this is official. Take off with Roger's blessings."

Without another word, the three Earthworms turned and raced down the corridor. Tom

grinned and slowly stepped toward the dormitory room. He was greeted by the sound of

Roger's outraged protests.

"Lemme go! Put me down, you excuse for humanity!"

Tom sighed and shook his head. Separating Astro and Roger in their endless quarrels

had irritated him in the beginning of their association. But through the long months of their

school life, he had become resigned to it and now accepted it with a weary indifference.

When he entered the room, he was not surprised to find Roger on top of the lockers, a good

ten feet off the floor. Astro stood below him, legs apart, hands on hips, grinning triumphantly.

"Take him down, Astro," Tom said with a sigh. "We've got work to do."

Obediently Astro reached up and hauled Roger down, setting him on his feet easily.

Roger spun around angrily, ready to resume the fight, but Tom stepped in front of him

quickly.

"Save it, Roger. Put that energy into getting these bunks moved around. I'll start

stringing up the colored paper."

Roger growled and Astro grinned, but both of them went to work with vigor. Out of the

corner of his eye, Tom watched them working together and felt a surge of pride. It wasn't

every unit in the Academy that could boast having the best power-deck cadet and the best

astrogator cadet. While he himself was happy to be the pilot and command cadet of the unit,

he realized that without their solid support his efforts wouldn't be nearly as successful as they

had been.

Soon the room was crisscrossed with strips of gaily colored paper, and the furniture had

been rearranged to make space for the table they were borrowing from the messroom.

Then, while Astro was getting the table and Roger went for the ice cream, fruit juices, and a

special cake brought all the way from Atom City by special messenger, Tom stripped a

sheet from one of the beds for a tablecloth and dug out the forks and cups hoarded for days

in anticipation of this event.

With nothing more to do until Astro returned with the table, Tom moved to the window

and stared down on his favorite scene-the grassy, brilliant green quadrangle that was the

hub, the center of the Academy. All around it the magnificent buildings of pure, clear Titan

crystal picked up the rays of the afternoon sun and reflected them in many colors on the

slidewalks that crisscrossed the campus, carrying the hundreds of cadets to all parts of the

Academy. His glance wandered over to the greatest sight at Space Academy, the Tower of

Galileo, and his eyes clouded with sudden emotion. To him, the magnificent tower was the

symbol of this year, 2356, the age of the conquest of space. Now, after centuries of life on

earth, men had broken the chains binding them to the mother planet. There were outposts of

spacemen on the satellites of Alpha Centauri, and the colonies on Ganymede and Titan

rivaled the largest cities of Earth, Venus, and Mars, the three planets of the Solar Alliance.

The Tower was also a personal symbol to Tom. It represented a whole new life. The day

that he first saw it, he changed from a carefree boy with no responsibilities to a serious

young man, destined to become one of the few who would shape men's future in space.

Tom smiled as he remembered his first days and weeks at Space Academy and the

efforts to adjust to his unit mates, Roger and Astro. It had been rough. Although a brilliant

boy, Roger had at first insisted on independence. He was a lone wolf and had resisted the

unit system of training at the Academy. Astro, on the other hand, while the most ingenious

power jockey in space, having cut his teeth on reactors of spaceships in the merchant fleet

as an enlisted spaceman, was unable to grasp theoretical knowledge. More than once, Tom

had seen him absolutely confounded when a problem on atomic motors was presented as a

question on an examination paper. And yet Astro could take those same motors apart and

put them together again blindfolded.

The greatest problem in those first weeks was learning to work together as a unit.

Captain Steve Strong, their unit commander, had recognized their potentialities and had

worked with them, driving them, threatening them, consoling them, until now they were

considered the finest unit in the Academy. That was the reason for the celebration. Captain

Strong would be passing his fifteen years as Solar Guard officer today, and he, more than

any other single factor, had been responsible for the success of the Polaris unit. The party

was small, but the gratitude and the deep feeling of respect behind it great.

"Take a look at this cake!" yelled Roger, entering the room laden with packages and

boxes. The cake was white, with a miniature spaceship on top, and the inscription read:

"Congratulations ... 15 Years . . . Tom, Roger, Astro."

Astro burst in a moment later carrying the table. "Hurry up!" he hissed. "I just saw

Captain Strong coming up the slidestairs!"

They quickly spread the cloth and placed the plates, cups, and forks.

Astro's eyes bulged at the sight of the cake. "Take your eyes off that, Astro," said

Roger. "It's for Captain Strong."

"But he can't eat it all!" said Astro happily.

"Shh!" said Tom. "Here he comes!"

They heard footsteps on the corridor floor outside, and the door opened. Steve Strong,

resplendent in his black-and-gold Solar Guard officer's uniform, stepped into the room.

"CONGRATULATIONS!" the cadets roared in unison as Strong stopped in obvious

surprise. He could hardly fight back the mist in his eyes at the sight of the table and the

decorations.

"Thank you," he said quietly, with feeling. "It's the nicest surprise I've ever had."

"Let's eat!" yelled Astro, notorious for his gargantuan appetite.

Tom and Roger had been touched by the emotion displayed by Strong, but Astro's

emphatic and direct approach made them laugh.

"What's so funny?" growled the young giant. "That stuff’s here to eat, not to look at."

"Just a minute," said Strong. He stepped aside and for the first time the three cadets

saw that there was a fifth person in the room. "I want to introduce you to Cadet T. J. Thistle of

Mars Academy. He will be attached to your unit for a while as an exchange cadet. We plan

to send a cadet to Mars in his place."

The three boys stared at the new cadet. He was as small as Astro was big. Slim, and

about five-two, he looked more like a prep school student than a full-fledged Senior Space

Cadet.

The Polaris unit greeted him soberly. They resented having an outsider at their party,

but since Captain Strong had brought him, there wasn't anything they could do about it.

"Glad to have you aboard, Thistle," said Tom, stepping forward to shake hands.

The small cadet returned the handclasp lightly and then looked around the room. "Well,

a party!" he chirped in a high-pitched voice. "I can't think of a better way to get to know you

guys!"

Roger and Astro shook hands and looked him over carefully.

"Thistle is a radar, astrogation, and communications wizard," said Strong. "He was the

best they had at Mars."

The word wizard exploded in the air like a small atom bomb. Astro and Tom glanced at

each other and winced. They knew what was coming. It was a challenge Roger Manning

would not let pass without an argument. Already his eyes were dancing with delight.

"Well, a wizard, eh?" asked Roger, stepping right up to Thistle and towering over him. "I

never met a wizard before," he added caustically.

"Oh, no?" replied Thistle innocently. "Well, then, let me be the first one introduced to you.

T. J. Thistle, at your service!" He looked at Captain Strong. "Shall we eat, sir?"

As Manning's face suddenly reddened, Tom and Astro turned away quickly to hide their

smiles. Roger Manning had apparently met his match.

CHAPTER 2

"Boy! Is Roger burned up!"

Tom laughed as he carried his space bag to the door of the dormitory room. The

Polaris unit had been ordered out on a routine patrol, with T. J. Thistle along as an observer.

"Never have I seen him so dead set on showing anyone up," Tom continued. "You know

what he's going to do on that patrol today?"

"What?" asked Astro as he finished packing his space bag.

Tom grinned. "He's going to ask Thistle to take over the radar bridge," Tom said. "He's

going to instruct him-get that, instruct him-on the finer points of astrogation."

His bag closed, Astro turned and looked at Tom. "So?"

"Don't you get it? As soon as Thistle makes a wrong move, Roger will be all over him."

Astro nodded. "From some of the remarks Thistle made at the party yesterday, this is

going to be the battle of the century," he said. "Do me a favor and leave the intercom key

open so I can hear everything."

The cadets picked up their bags and strolled toward the slidestairs. "We're to meet

Roger and Thistle at the spaceport," Tom announced as they stepped on the moving

duraplast stairway that would take them down to the main level of the dormitory building.

"What are the orders?" asked Astro.

"I haven't picked them up yet," Tom replied. "We'll get them at traffic control, but it's just

routine. Out to the asteroid belt and back," Tom added over his shoulder."

"Routine?" Astro grinned. "I can remember the day when a trip out to the asteroid belt

was like a deep-space hop."

Tom nodded. "You can say that again, spaceman."

On the main level they waited in line before the sergeant-at-arms desk to sign out. Chief

Warrant Officer Mike McKenny sat behind the desk like a well-fed, satisfied bulldog. But no

cadet in the Academy was ever fooled by his seemingly complacent appearance.

Spaceman McKenny had the reputation of being as harsh as any unit commander. When

Tom and Astro stopped before him, McKenny grinned. "Well, the Polaris unit has a Martian

visitor, I hear," he said in his familiar foghorn voice.

"Yes, we have, Mike," Tom replied. "And from the looks of him, he's going to give

Manning a hard time on the radar bridge."

"From what I hear," drawled a voice in back of them, "Thistle is the hottest astrogator to

hit the Academy in the last twenty years!"

As one, Tom and Astro spun around to challenge the attack on Roger. They came face

to face with Tony Richards, the command cadet of the Capella crew, consistent rivals for

Academy honors.

"I'll bet six desserts," said Astro, glancing at Richards, "that Manning can astrogate

rings around that Martian monkey."

"Still sticking together, eh?" commented the Capella cadet. "You'd think that there

wasn't another crew in the Academy but you."

Astro grinned and pointed to the trophy case at the other side of the huge lobby, where

most of the trophies for inter-unit athletic competition bore the name Polaris. "There's your

answer," the burly cadet said. "I still bet six desserts, and on top of that I'm giving two-to-one

odds."

"I'll take that!" retorted Richards. "Two-to-one!"

"But that doesn't include Sunday's dessert," Astro quickly amended. "Not the ice cream

and pie."

Tom laughed and tugged at Astro's arm. "Come on," he said. "We've got to hit the

blue!"

With a parting wave to Tony Richards, they left the dormitory building and jumped on the

slidewalk, rolling smoothly past the door. Wide belts of plastic that moved on underground

rollers, the slidewalks crisscrossed the Academy, whisking cadets and officers silently and

efficiently to all parts of the huge installation. The moving walks were crowded with

spacemen dressed in the various colored uniforms of the Solar Guard; the red of the

enlisted Solar Guard, black and gold of the Solar Guard officers, green of the Earthworm

cadets, and the deep blue of the Senior Cadets. Shifting to an express walk at a junction

point, Tom and Astro were being carried along toward the Academy spaceport at a fast clip,

when Tom finally turned to Astro and broke the silence. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he said.

"What does?" asked Astro.

"Being a Space Cadet about to blast off."

Astro grinned. "It sure does," he said. "Better than anything I can think of."

In a few minutes the two cadets were at the Academy spaceport, the largest landing

field for spaceships in the entire Solar Alliance. Set in a low valley, surrounded by rolling

hills, the spaceport was not only the main base for the fleet of rocket cruisers and space

scouts used by the cadets in their training hops, but had a special section devoted to

commercial traffic. Tom and Astro hurried through the busy administration area to the control

tower where air traffic was handled. While Astro waited outside, Tom signed the log and

then went to get their orders.

The office of the traffic dispatcher was high above the field and afforded a view of the

whole spaceport. Tom automatically searched out the gleaming hull of the Polaris when he

entered and did not notice Captain Strong standing at the desk.

Captain Strong winked at the dispatch officer who stepped up to Tom. "Can I help you,

Cadet?" he asked.

Tom came to attention and saluted. "Cadet Corbett, Polaris unit, requesting flight

orders, sir," he said briskly, and then suddenly noticing Strong, flushed and grinned

sheepishly. "Sorry, sir," he added.

"That's all right, Corbett," Strong replied. "The sight of a spaceship is always

distracting." The Solar Guard captain held out a sheaf of papers. "I already have the orders,"

he continued. "I'm going to make this hop with you."

"Swell, sir," said Tom. But the question in his eyes was plain.

Strong smiled. "I was just telling Captain Smathers here about the space storm that

seems to be brewing between Thistle and Manning," he said. "I think I'd better come along."

"Glad to have you aboard, sir," Tom said.

"Let's go!"

Outside the control office, Tom and Captain Strong joined Astro and got into a jet car.

Shooting across the concrete surface of the spaceport at a speed that made Astro turn

pale, they reached the air lock of the Polaris and climbed into it.

"We blast off in ten minutes, Tom," Strong said. "Order all stations to stand by."

"Aye, aye, sir," Tom replied.

Leaving Astro on the power deck and Strong in the officer's cabin, Tom scampered up

the final ladder to the control deck and immediately began preparations for blast-off.

Switching on the intercom, he cried: "Control deck to radar bridge! Check in, Roger!"

"Radar bridge, aye," came an unfamiliar voice over the loud-speaker. "Manning is not

here. This is Thistle."

"Where is Manning?" asked Tom, puzzled.

"He-er-"

"Yeow!" An earsplitting yell suddenly crackled over the communicator and echoed

through the ship. Tom leaped to his feet and scrambled up the radar-bridge ladder. He burst

through the hatch and into the astrogator's compartment barely ahead of Captain Strong

and Astro, who had also come running when they heard the agonized cry. They all stood

aghast at the sight before them. Thistle was standing to one side, an innocent grin on his

face, watching Roger hop around the deck, scratching, wriggling, and squirming in a

seemingly uncontrollable frenzy. Tom glanced at Strong, who bellowed at the top of his

voice: "Stand to!"

Thistle snapped to attention immediately, but Roger was unable to stand still.

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Strong.

"That creep!" gasped Roger, scratching his chest, then his arm, then his leg in rapid

succession. "That Martian monkey. He-he . . ." Roger stopped and began stripping off his

tunic. "He put ants in my astrogation chair!"

"Ants!" Strong turned to Thistle. "Is that true, Cadet Thistle?" he growled.

"Well, no, sir. Not exactly," replied the little cadet innocently.

"Then what exactly did you do?" demanded Strong.

By now, Roger had stripped down to his shorts and was picking the ants from his body

and his clothes. Tom and Astro could hardly repress their laughter as they helped him.

"I've been making a study of the structure of the society of ants, sir," announced Thistle

with complete composure. "When I learned we were going out to the asteroid belt, I figured I

would have a lot of spare time and could do a little research. Manning accidentally

overturned the jar and-" He stopped and shrugged.

"I'll turn you over, you little space grub!" Roger cried.

"Stow that gaff!" roared Strong, and then turned back to the little cadet, frowning.

"Thistle, you should know better than to bring insects aboard a spaceship!"

"But, sir," protested Thistle, his face still a mask of innocence. "I thought I could-"

"I don't care what you think!" snapped Strong. "The space code says, and I quote: 'No

spaceman, at any time, under any conditions whatsoever, shall bring aboard, or have

brought aboard, or precipitate the bringing aboard of any animal life of any size or nature

without the express permission of the commanding officer of that vessel,' unquote."

"Yes, sir. I know," Thistle replied, with a glance at Roger who was still digging the ants

from the seams of his tunic. "But an insect isn't an animal, is it, sir?" he asked blandly.

"That's enough!" Strong roared.

"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!"

By that time Tom had finished spraying the deck with a small insect bomb, and Astro

was helping Roger back into his uniform.

"Don't let anything like this happen again," Strong said sharply, then he checked his

watch. "All hands to stations," he announced. "Stand by to raise ship."

"Could you wait a minute until I get squared away, sir?" asked Roger, struggling into his

trousers.

"No time, Roger. We have our blast-off time and orbit scheduled. Thistle will raise ship."

As Thistle whistled lightly and turned his attention to the huge astrogation panel, Roger's

face clouded over and he continued dressing silently.

Tom, Astro, and Strong trooped off the bridge without another word. But when they

reached the control deck, they burst into laughter.

"I won't say that Thistle let those ants loose on purpose"-Astro chuckled-"but he's way

ahead so far."

Tom grinned in agreement. "I just hope this practical joking doesn't go too far," he said.

"It had better not," Strong said firmly. "Fun is fun, but out in space, where the slightest

mistake can cost a man's life, it ceases to be funny. Take your stations!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Tom replied.

As Astro hurried below to the power deck, and Strong strapped into an acceleration

chair, Tom took his place at the control panel and began the routine of adjusting the dozens

of dials and switches in preparation for blast-off. He flipped on the intercom and called:

"Control deck to all stations, check in!"

"Power deck, aye!" Astro's voice crackled over the intercom. "Ready for blast-off."

"Radar bridge, aye!" replied Thistle. "Ready to raise ship!"

Tom turned his attention to the astral chronometer and watched the sweeping red

second hand move around the face of the clock. When it touched thirty, he called again:

"Energize the cooling pumps!"

On the power deck below, Astro threw the switch that started the mighty pumps and a

faint whine could be heard throughout the whole ship.

"Cooling pumps in operation!" Astro announced over the intercom.

"Your orbit and course set, Thistle?" asked Tom.

"Yeah, it's set!" growled Roger in reply.

Tom grinned. "Feed reactant!" he called.

Another sound, heavier and deeper pitched, blended with the whine of the pumps.

"Reactant feeding at D-9 rate!" Astro shouted.

The huge ship began to tremble under the tremendous pressure of the pumps and

feeders. Tom's eyes were glued to the astral chronometer.

"Stand by to raise ship!" he called. "Blast off minus five, four, three, two, one-zero!"

He slammed home the main circuit switch. The ship trembled violently for a few seconds

and then slowly rose from the face of the earth. It began picking up speed, accelerating at

better than seven miles per minute, hurtling spaceward into the new frontiers of mankind, the

ever-expanding universe!

CHAPTER 3

"Asteroid belt dead ahead!"

Tom Corbett's voice rang over the spaceship's intercom. "Cut power to one-quarter

thrust!" he ordered as he slammed the master control lever home. Then, putting the giant

ship on automatic pilot, he picked up the intercom again. "Corbett to Captain Strong!" he

called. "We've arrived, sir. Any special orders?"

"What's your position?" Strong asked.

"Quadrant seven, chart B, sector seventeen," said the young cadet.

"Assemble the crew on the double," ordered Strong. "I'll be right up."

After summoning his unit mates, Tom paused and stared out of the viewport into the

weird-looking spacescape of small, medium, and giant-sized pieces of space junk that

made up the asteroid belt.

The asteroid belt lay between Mars and Jupiter and could have been, as many believed,

another planet that had been broken into billions of smaller planetoids by the terrible power

of nearby Jupiter's gravity. The belt, circling endlessly around the sun, was a constant

danger to spaceships in transit between Europa and Ganymede, satellites of Jupiter, and

also was the birthplace of the meteors that showered on Earth, Mars, and Luna.

Captain Strong and the three cadets arrived on the control deck simultaneously. Strong

wasted no time with preliminaries. He faced them and pointed to the asteroid belt clearly

seen through the viewport. "There's a maverick planetoid acting up in this sector. Something

has happened to its atomic structure and the planetoid has changed its nature from a

positive-or attracting magnetism-to a negative or repelling magnetism. It's been drifting in an

irregular orbit for about two weeks now, bumping into other asteroids, which in turn are

wandering into the space lanes and endangering space traffic. Our job is to find the

maverick and blast it out of existence."

Strong walked to the electronic astrogation chart blinking on the afterbulkhead. "Reports

from three space freighters have placed the maverick in this general area here," he

continued, pointing it out on the chart. "So Thistle and Roger will take jet boat number one,

and Tom and Astro number two, and begin a wide search sweep. I'll stay on board the

Polaris and plot your reports. Any questions?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "Is the maverick planetoid very large?"

"About a thousand yards in diameter," replied Strong.

"How will we get rid of it?" asked Astro.

"We'll use it for a little target practice," Strong answered with a grin. "I don't think you'll

mind taking pot shots at it with the six-inch atomic blasters, will you?"

"Mind!" yowled Roger. "All I want is first crack at it."

"Why first?" asked Thistle innocently.

"Because Astro and Tom are better than I am," said Roger slyly but keeping a straight

face. "I just want to make sure that I get at least one shot at it."

"Better than you!" gasped Astro. "Well, I'll be a Martian monkey! Since when have you

ever thought that anyone else could be better than you in anything?"

Strong interrupted before Roger could answer. "Suppose you find it before you argue

that point? Get moving!"

The four cadets saluted briskly and trooped out of the control deck. On the way down to

the boat deck, Thistle eyed Roger curiously. While waiting in the air lock for Astro and Tom

to blast off, he turned to the blond-haired cadet. "I want to apologize, Roger," he said,

offering his hand, "about the ants, I mean."

"Forget it!" replied Roger matter-of-factly, shaking Thistle's hand. "A practical joke

is-well-" He paused and shrugged. "It could happen to anybody."

"That's what I thought," muttered Thistle under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"I said that's a nice sportsmanlike thought," replied Thistle casually. "Come on. Tom and

Astro are ready to blast off."

Thistle walked up to the hatch and stared through the small viewport, hiding a smile.

Being a practical joker himself, he could smell the possibility of one a mile off.

The two cadets remained in the air lock, just off the boat deck, while Astro and Tom

completed their warm-up, and then sent the sleek little jet boat rocketing out of the open

hatch.

When the outer hatch had closed again and air pressure had been equalized, Thistle

entered the boat deck and climbed into their boat.

"I'll pilot," announced Roger.

"O.K.," replied Thistle casually.

"Ready?"

"All set."

Almost in one movement, Roger tripped the switch that opened the outer hatch and

jammed the acceleration lever home, sending the jet boat shooting out of the Polaris under

full throttle. Thistle was slammed back into his seat.

"What's the matter?" asked Roger innocently. "Too fast for you?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Thistle gulped.

Roger maneuvered the small craft with ease as they worked their way into the thick part

of the asteroid belt. With Thistle checking out the search areas and relaying the information

back to Strong over the audioceiver, Roger concentrated on avoiding the tiny silent world

orbiting all around him.

They finished searching through three sectors and Thistle had begun to relax, thinking

that perhaps he had been wrong about Roger, when they began to press further into the

dense mass of asteroids. Roger bent over the controls, gripping the acceleration lever

tensely, turning, rising, dropping, avoiding the space junk that would seemingly appear out of

nowhere. A master of handling small craft, Roger began increasing the speed of the jet

boat, sweeping in and around the circling bodies, sometimes coming within inches of

colliding with them.

Beads of sweat popped out on Thistle's forehead. He choked and gulped, realizing that

Roger was retaliating for the ant episode, but he would not admit to being afraid.

"I love to handle a jet boat in tight quarters," Roger said casually. "It's good practice for

the reflexes."

"Yeah," Thistle gulped as they narrowly missed smashing into a huge, jagged asteroid

as big as the Polaris. "Yeah, it can be fun sometimes."

Roger reached over and flipped open the audioceiver key, and then looked at Thistle.

"Well, what do you know? The key jammed," he said. "We can't close the circuit now!"

Strong's voice filled the tiny cabin of the ship. "Anything wrong, Roger?"

"The circuit key of the audioceiver is jammed open, sir," answered Roger, grinning at

Thistle.

"See anything yet?" asked Strong.

"Nothing, sir," said Roger.

"Keep searching," ordered Strong.

"Aye, aye, sir," said Roger, and pressed the acceleration lever all the way over.

The tiny craft leaped forward through the thick mass of asteroids. It was all Roger could

do to keep the tiny craft from crashing. Thistle started to protest, then kept silent, staring at

the open key. He knew that every word he said would be heard by Strong, Tom, and Astro.

He was sure that Roger had arranged for the key to be jammed in some way. But he was

determined not to say a word.

"We're moving into sector nine," Tom's voice was heard over the audioceiver as he

reported back to Strong.

Thistle looked at his chart. They were in sector nine themselves. Avoiding asteroids was

one thing, but to have another jet boat maneuvering around near them was something else.

"Don't you think you better slow down a bit, Roger?" asked Thistle in a hurried whisper.

"What did you say, Thistle?" bellowed Roger. "Did you say you wanted to slow down?"

Thistle's face turned red. "Yeah," he said grudgingly. "Slow down."

"Well," said Roger with a casual air, "if you're afraid of a little space junk, sure, I'll slow

down."

"What's the trouble?" inquired Captain Strong.

"Nothing, sir," said Roger with a hint of triumph in his voice. "It seems that our Martian

radar wizard is scared of a little speed!"

"How fast are you going, Manning?" demanded Strong. "If you're pulling one of your

gags-"

"Roger, look out!" Thistle suddenly yelled, pointing through the viewport.

Dead ahead was a giant planetoid. Roger swerved in time, but then found himself

heading straight for the other jet boat!

"Pull up, Roger! Pull up!" Astro's voice blasted over the audioceiver.

Roger pulled back on the control stick. It would not move. He grabbed the acceleration

lever and reversed his rockets in a desperate attempt to brake their speed, but it was

useless. The two jet boats were hurtling straight at each other.

At the last minute Tom's boat swerved, narrowly missing them, but even as Roger

breathed a sigh of relief, Thistle grabbed him by the arm and spun him around to look

through the rear viewport. Roger's face whitened in sudden horror. Tom and Astro had piled

into the huge asteroid.

Strong's voice roared over the audioceiver demanding to know what the trouble was.

Thistle stammered out a reply as Roger slammed his tiny ship into a tight turn and headed

back to the other jet boat, now drifting around in silent orbit just above the surface of the

planetoid.

"Tom! Tom!" Roger shouted frantically into the intercom. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," came Tom's weak reply. "We're O.K., but

we're leaking oxygen. And we don't have space suits.”

"I'll come alongside and take you off!" Roger called.

"No, Manning!" interrupted Strong on the audioceiver. "You've got to bring the boat back

to the Polaris. If you open the hatch, you'll kill Astro and Corbett!"

"But there's no way of getting a line or grappling hook on it, sir," said Roger. "You'll have

to bring the Polaris in here!"

"Impossible!" replied Strong. "I couldn't find you. The radar scanner is useless. Every

piece of space junk around you shows up as a blip. I can't tell which one is your ship!"

"We can 'con' you in here!" said Roger determinedly. "Just follow our orders."

"Your orders!" gasped Strong. Then, realizing that Roger was under extreme pressure

and was unaware of his breach of military courtesy, he replied:

"Very well, Manning. I'm on a course of zero-zero seven degrees, eighteen on the

upgrade of the ecliptic. What are my orders?"

"What's the quadrant, Thistle?" asked Roger.

"Sector nine, chart C," replied the little cadet quickly, then pausing, his eyes closed, his

lips moving rapidly, he suddenly called into the intercom: "Change your course three

degrees starboard, one downgrade, and proceed for about ten thousand yards. Check?"

He glanced inquiringly at Roger, who had been doing the same thing: plotting a complicated

astrogation problem in his head.

"Right!" nodded Roger.

"I'm under way," announced Strong. "Three starboard, one down, ten thousand!"

Standing off the crippled jet boat, watching Tom and Astro work frantically to plug leaks

in their vacuumized cabin, T. J. Thistle and Roger Manning charted the progress of the

Polaris in their minds. Without a single instrument and relying on nothing but their memory of

the astrogation tables, the inborn sense of direction that made both of them outstanding

astrogators, they maneuvered the huge rocket cruiser through the mass of space junk.

"Now drop three degrees on the ecliptic," Thistle called into the intercom. "Move ahead

about four hundred yards, sir, and you'll be right over the other jet boat."

A moment later T.J. and Manning sighed with relief as Tom's voice roared over the

loud-speaker:

"The Polaris is right over us!"

Even as Thistle and Roger turned to look, Captain Strong had dropped grappling lines

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THEROBOTROCKETByCAREYROCKWELLATOMCORBETTSpaceCadetAdventureWILLYLEYTechnicalAdviserGROSSET&DUNLAPPublishersNewYorkCOPYRIGHT1956BYROCKHILLRADIOALLRIGHTSRESERVEDTheTomCorbettseries:STANDBYFORMARS!,1952DANGERINDEEPSPACE,1953ONTHETRAILOFTHESPACEPIRATES,1953THESPACEPIONEERS,1953THEREVOLTONVENUS,1954TREAC...

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Carey Rockwell - Tom Corbett Space Cadet 08 - The Robot Rocket

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