Sabotage in Space Part 30

"Don't talk!" shouted Hemmingwell. "Stop the s.h.i.+p!"

"I can't! The control is jammed!"

As the s.h.i.+p surged through s.p.a.ce and the professor and Barret yelled at each other over the intercom, three s.p.a.ce Cadets rose from their hiding place in the hold of the s.h.i.+p.

Tom Corbett nudged Roger and Astro. "You hear that?" he said grimly.

"Yeah!" replied Roger.

"Let's go!" growled Astro.

Without another word, they opened the hatch and made their way quickly through the rocketing s.h.i.+p, each going to their separate stations, according to the prearranged plan. Roger climbed up to the radar bridge, Tom entered the control deck, and Astro burst into the power deck.

"You!" Barret cried out, his eyes wide with sudden fear as the huge Venusian advanced on him menacingly.

"Get away from those controls," growled the big cadet. "If you don't, so help me, I'll break you in two!"

Barret backed away, his face white, hands pawing the air frantically as if he were trying to push the big cadet back.

"Get over there," said Astro. "Sit down and keep your mouth shut!"

On the control deck, Tom was strapping himself into the pilot's chair and calling frantically into the intercom, "Give me a course, Roger!"

"One-seventy-degree turn to starboard," replied Roger, "and full ahead!

I've got the major on my scanner."

"Pour on the power, Astro!" shouted Tom, gripping the controls firmly.

As the mighty s.h.i.+p blasted in a long, sweeping arc, Professor Hemmingwell sat numbly in his chair, aware only that the three cadets were taking the vessel back into the area where the remaining projectiles, completely out of control, were buzzing around in s.p.a.ce like maddened hornets.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER 18

"There he is!"

Roger's voice rose to a triumphant shout on the intercom. "Put the brakes on this wagon!"

"Check!" retorted Astro from the power deck, his fingers flying over the switches of the control panel and bringing the s.h.i.+p to a sudden blasting stop.

On the control deck, Tom turned to Professor Hemmingwell. "I'm going outside to get Major Connel, sir," he said. "Do you think you'll be all right?"

The old man nodded absently, still dazed by the sudden turn of events.

Tom hurried past him and met Roger coming down from the radar bridge.

"I'm going too!" the blond-haired cadet announced.

"You tell Astro?"

"Yeah. He's got Barret locked in the power-deck storeroom and he'll take over the control deck. Wonder if they have a jet boat aboard?"

"I doubt it. Not on a test flight."

"We'll have to hurry," said Roger as they reached the air lock and began to scramble into s.p.a.ce suits.

"Yes," replied Tom. "He probably doesn't have much oxygen."

"There's another reason," grunted Roger.

"What?"

"Those projectiles. We're right back in the middle of them. Any one of them could wreck the s.h.i.+p."

"I see what you mean," said Tom. "Guess it's up to Astro to keep dodging them."

"Never thought I'd be out in s.p.a.ce ducking hot projectiles to save old Blast-off Connel's hide."

"Neither did I," said Tom. "But here we are."

Stepping into the air lock, they quickly equalized the pressure and a moment later climbed out on the hull.

"See him, Roger?" asked Tom over the helmet intercom.

"Not yet," replied Roger.

"I see him," called Astro from the control deck. "I got him spotted on the teleceiver. Go aft, about a thousand, maybe fifteen hundred yards.

I'll direct you from there."

"Right!" snapped Roger. "And listen, you Venusian bonehead! Make it good. I don't like being a clay pigeon for this crazy shooting gallery out here!"

"Aw, damp your tubes and get to work," drawled Astro. "Honestly, Tom, did you ever hear him _not_ complain?"

Tom did not answer. He was busy fastening two oxygen tanks to the front of his s.p.a.ce suit and Roger's. When he had finished, he checked the pressure and, satisfied, nodded to his unit mate.

Opening the nozzles of the bottles, they shot away from the s.h.i.+p into the nothingness of s.p.a.ce.

"You have to go about fifteen degrees to your starboard and five degrees up on the ecliptic," called Astro from the control deck. "You'll hit Connel right on the nose!"

"Right!" replied Tom, turning the nozzle of the oxygen bottle to the left and immediately shooting off in the indicated direction. Roger followed quickly and expertly.

"See him?" called Tom.

"No," replied Roger. "Are you sure, you big clunk?"

"He's right above you!" snorted Astro over the intercom. Then his voice rose in alarm. "No! That isn't--"