Sabotage in Space, Carey Rockwell [ereader for comics .txt] 📗
- Author: Carey Rockwell
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"All right, Tom!" yelled Roger again. "Give it the same thing on the right and the down-plane of the ecliptic!"
"Check!" answered Tom, reversing his controls and sending the ship corkscrewing through space on an opposite course.
Connel grabbed the arms of his chair and gasped, "You kids are space happy!"
"Those gyros are so perfect, sir," said Tom, working the controls quickly and smoothly, "that the only way you can throw them off balance is to confuse them."
"Confuse them!" exclaimed Connel.
"Yes, sir," said Tom. "It's a theory Roger and I worked out together. No gyro is perfect, and if you can get it bouncing back and forth in extreme turns, it will be thrown out of balance. Then all we have to do is make the torpedo miss once and it won't come back."
"Heaven help us all!" was Connel's groaning reply.
"On the ball, Tom!" cried Roger. "She's closing in on us!"
"I see her," replied Tom calmly. "Hang on, everybody. I'm going to turn this ship inside out!"
Jerking the controls, Tom threw the ship into a mad, whirling spin, subjecting the vessel to the most severe strain tests it would ever undergo. The hull groaned and creaked, and badly fitted equipment tore loose and clattered across the deck. Suddenly the young cadet leveled the ship.
"Nose braking rockets, Astro!" he called.
"Braking rockets, aye!" acknowledged the Venusian over the intercom.
On the power deck, Astro jammed the forward drive closed and slammed open the nose rockets. The ship trembled, bucked, and finally came to a shuddering stop before it started a reverse course, accelerating quickly.
"Here it comes!" yelled Roger.
As Connel and Tom watched tensely, the space torpedo loomed large and menacing on the scanner, and then, as they held their breaths, it whistled past the silvery hull of the ship, with less than two feet to spare!
Sighing deeply, Tom brought the ship back to level flight. "We're O.K. now, sir," he said. "Her gyros are out. She won't come back."
"By the craters of Luna!" Connel suddenly exploded. "The Solar Guard spends a fortune to develop a foolproof space torpedo and two hot-shot cadets come along and get away from the blasted thing! Why haven't you told this to anyone before?"
"Why—er—" stammered Tom, "we've never had the chance to prove it, sir."
Behind them, the power-deck hatch suddenly opened and Astro stepped in. "Nice work, Tom!" he called.
"And as for you, you Venusian ape," roared Connel, "don't you realize that you can blow a reactor tube by throwing so much power into a ship without energizing the cooling pumps first?"
Astro smiled. "Not if you open the by-pass, sir," he said, "and feed directly off the pump reservoir. The gas cools the tube and at the same time expands itself and adds to the power thrust."
At Astro's easy reply Connel could only stand openmouthed in amazement. Again, one of the three cadets of the Polaris unit had developed a revolutionary procedure that even top rocket scientists would be proud to call their own.
Winking at Tom, Astro turned away and suddenly noticed Barret sprawled on the deck, unconscious.
"What happened to him?" asked the big Venusian.
"Oh, I forgot all about him," said Tom. "Guess he didn't get into an acceleration chair in time. Better get some more water."
"We haven't time for him now!" snapped Connel. "Strap him in good and tight. We've got to find out where that torpedo came from."
As though in answer to the major's order, there was a sudden call over the ship's intercom.
"Radar bridge to control deck, check in!" There was a note of alarm in Roger's voice.
Tom jumped to the control panel to reply.
"Control deck, aye!" he snapped into the microphone.
"There's a spaceship to starboard!" called Roger. "Distance twenty miles, fifteen degrees up on the plane of the ecliptic. And I swear she's maneuvering to fire another torpedo!"
"Stand by action stations!" roared Connel, diving into his chair before the control panel. Tom strapped in next to him, while Astro made a headlong dash for the power deck.
"Yes!" shouted Roger. "She's fired a torpedo!"
"Raise her! Raise her!" bellowed Connel. "Tell them who we are!" He turned to Tom. "Go into your act, Corbett," he said, "and make it good!"
As Tom manipulated the controls again, the silver ship plunged through space, turning and gyrating in the same series of maneuvers it had performed to escape the first torpedo. But this time the distance separating them was not as great and the torpedo closed in quickly.
"Can't you raise that ship yet, Manning?" Connel roared into the intercom.
"I just have, sir," replied Roger in a strained voice. "But it's—"
"Let me talk to that lame brain of a skipper," interrupted Connel. "By the stars, I'll teach him to—"
"It's no use, Connel," said a gruff voice over the control-deck loud-speaker. "Even if you duck this torpedo, I've got ten more!"
"Who is this?" roared Connel.
"Don't you know, Connel? Why, I'm surprised!"
The teleceiver screen glowed into life and Tom and Connel stared in horror as they recognized the images of three men. The one in the foreground smiled mockingly and said, "Remember me, Connel?"
"Devers!" Connel roared.
"And the other two behind him—" stuttered Tom. "Cag and Monty!"
"Why, you dirty space crawler," cried Connel, "I'll get you if it's the last thing I do!"
"No, you won't, Major." Devers laughed. "The last thing you'll do is kiss a space torpedo. Then no more Major Blast-off Connel, no more whimpering Professor Hemmingwell, and most important, no more projectile ship!"
And as Devers laughed loudly, Tom threw the ship into another violent turn and cried, "It's no use, Major. I can't duck this one!"
"All hands brace for torpedo!" warned Connel.
Suddenly there was an explosion aft. The ship lurched and shuddered violently, spinning through space, and as Tom fought the controls, everything went black. The ship drifted helplessly, out of control.
"Turn on the lights! Cut in the emergency batteries!"
Connel's bull-throated roar carried through the ship as he stood on the power deck with Astro and shouted to Tom on the control deck. The space torpedo had destroyed the stern of the vessel, and if it hadn't been for Astro's quick action in sealing off the aftersection of the ship, all the air might have been lost and the crew dead of suffocation.
A moment later the emergency lights glowed weakly and Connel and the big Venusian cadet began a quick inspection of the ship. The power deck was a total loss. The ship would never get under way again.
Up on the radar bridge, Roger was about to turn on the radar scanner when Tom appeared and stopped him.
"Wait a while, Roger," he said. "We may need the power for something else."
"What, for instance?" snorted Roger.
"That ship is still out there, probably closing in for the kill."
"A blasted lot we can do about it," Roger growled.
"I've got a plan that might work," said Tom half-heartedly. "It's about the only thing I can think of, unless Connel and Astro have a better idea."
"What is it? Whatever it is, it's better than sitting here like a dead duck, waiting for that rat to come in and finish us off!" said Roger. "Look, I've just got to see what he's doing out there." He flipped on the scanner switch and while he waited for the set to warm up he turned back to Tom. "What's your idea?"
"Well," began Tom, "the only thing we've got on board that we can use to fight back with are those projectiles."
"How can we fight with projectiles?" demanded Roger. "They don't carry warheads!"
"No," agreed Tom. "But they're big and heavy. They pack a wallop if they hit anything."
Roger's eyes brightened suddenly. "Say, I think—"
The scanner began to beep and Roger turned his attention to the screen. Tom leaned over his shoulder and watched eagerly. They both saw Devers' ship flying in a slow circle around them.
"Probably looking to see which would be the best way to let us have it!" snarled Roger.
At that moment Major Connel climbed into the radar bridge, followed by Astro.
"Time to go," announced the officer.
"Go where?" demanded Roger.
"We have to abandon ship," declared Connel. "The power deck is shot. We'll never get under way, and we're just sitting ducks if we stay aboard."
"What's to prevent Devers from picking us off while we're outside?" asked Roger.
"Nothing," said Connel. "But he'll have a harder job and maybe he won't get all of us."
"Then, sir," said Tom with a glance at Roger, "I have an idea."
"Let's have it," said Connel.
"The projectiles, sir," replied Tom.
"What about them?"
"We can still fire them off the emergency batteries, sir."
"Will you get to the point, Corbett?" growled Connel. "Devers is liable to send another torpedo our way any second and—" Connel suddenly stopped and his eyes widened. "A torpedo!" he gasped.
"Exactly, sir!" exclaimed Tom. "We have five projectiles! We can use them as torpedoes!"
"Jumping Jupiter!" exclaimed Astro. "What a terrific idea!"
"What a terrific pipe dream!" snapped Connel. "Those projectiles don't have any warheads!"
"They could still do a lot of damage if they hit that ship," asserted Tom.
"And how do you expect to aim them?" demanded Connel. "There's not enough juice in the batteries to steer them!"
"We'll just fire them straight ahead, sir," broke in Roger. "Look!" he continued, pointing to the scanner screen. "Devers' ship is just circling us now. And he's on the same plane of the ecliptic. If he holds that course—"
"He'll cross our bow!" exclaimed Astro excitedly. "A perfect shot!"
"Ridiculous!" shouted Connel. "Preposterous! It'll never work in a million light years! He'll fire another torpedo and we'll be blasted into space dust!"
"But we can try it, can't we, sir?" asked Tom, grinning.
"Of course we can!" roared Connel. "I've never given up a battle yet and, by the stars, I'm not going to now!"
Forgetting rank and protocol, the three cadets danced around the major, slapping him on the back and howling their enthusiasm. Connel could not restrain a momentary grin and then his features assumed his usual bulldog look.
"Knock it off!" he shouted. "We've got work to do. Manning!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Keep your eyes nailed to that scanner!" Connel bellowed. "Sing out if Devers changes course by so much as a hair!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Astro!"
"Sir?"
"Put space suits on Professor Hemmingwell and Barret and stand by with them on the control deck."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Corbett, you and I will check the projectiles. Make sure they're in firing order!"
Spinning on his heel, Connel left the radar bridge. Alone for just an instant, the three cadets of the Polaris unit clasped hands in silent determination and then plunged into their various assignments.
Five minutes later, Connel and Tom returned to the control deck to find Astro waiting for them. Professor Hemmingwell and Barret, both in space suits, were seated on acceleration couches. As Connel walked up to him, Hemmingwell raised his head slowly, still under the effects of the sedative.
"What's—what's happening, Major?" he asked haltingly.
"Professor," said Connel, "one of two things is going to happen. Either your ship will be blown to space dust or Carter Devers will be finished and we'll bring your ship back to Earth!"
"Good, good," murmured Hemmingwell.
"And as for you, Barret"—Connel turned toward the man angrily—"now you can see what kind of thanks you get for your dirty work! Your boss is just as willing to get rid of you as he is to destroy this project!"
Barret flushed under Connel's glare and turned away.
At the control panel, Tom opened the circuits to the five loaded firing chambers and then turned to Connel. "All set to fire, sir!" he called.
"Any word from Manning?" asked Connel.
"Not while I've been here," replied Astro.
Connel picked up the
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