Sabotage in Space Part 33

Astro dove through the power-deck hatch while Roger raced for the radar-bridge ladder. Tom hurled himself into the copilot's chair, and with Connel beside him in the command position, he waited for Astro to supply power. Suddenly the s.h.i.+p trembled violently and then shot forward as, far below, the jet exhausts screamed under the full thrust of all the atomic reactors. Tom rode the controls hard and kept his eye on the scanner screen.

"It's a magnetic gyrofis.h.!.+" he cried as he saw the torpedo curve after them. "Roger, can you plot her for me?"

"Working on it now, Tom!" yelled Roger over the intercom.

"How in blazes did that thing get out here?" muttered Connel.

"We'll have to worry about that later, I'm afraid, sir," replied Tom.

"We're going to have our hands full getting away from her. With that magnetic warhead, she'll follow us all over s.p.a.ce unless we can throw her off."

"Which will take some doing!" grunted Connel, frowning in deep concern.

"Hey, Tom!" Roger's voice called over the intercom. "It's blasting on maximum thrust now. We have a pretty good chance. Use that idea we worked out. Make a series of left turns and always on the up-plane of the ecliptic!"

"Right!" said Tom, clutching the master manual-control lever and beginning to fly the giant s.h.i.+p through s.p.a.ce by "feel."

"What in blazes are you doing, Corbett?" shouted Connel in sudden alarm.

"Just hang on and watch, sir," replied Tom, keeping his eyes on the scanner where he could see the s.p.a.ce torpedo trailing them. Over and over, Tom kept slamming the s.h.i.+p into sharp left turns, while the torpedo followed in an ever-narrowing circle.

"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 s.h.i.+p corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g through s.p.a.ce on an opposite course.

Connel grabbed the arms of his chair and gasped, "You kids are s.p.a.ce 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 s.h.i.+p inside out!"

Jerking the controls, Tom threw the s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p.

"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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.p.a.ce torpedo loomed large and menacing on the scanner, and then, as they held their breaths, it whistled past the silvery hull of the s.h.i.+p, with less than two feet to spare!

Sighing deeply, Tom brought the s.h.i.+p 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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.h.i.+p without energizing the cooling pumps first?"

Astro smiled. "Not if you open the by-pa.s.s, 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 s.h.i.+p'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 s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p plunged through s.p.a.ce, 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 s.h.i.+p 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--"