The Revolt on Venus Part 6

"We might be able to repair that," said Tom hopefully.

"There she goes!" shouted Roger.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Staring out the winds.h.i.+eld, they saw a sudden blinding flash of light appear over the stern section of the _Polaris_, a white-hot blaze of incandescence that made them flinch and crouch back.

"By the craters of Luna!" exclaimed Connel.

Before their eyes they saw the stabilizer fin melt and curl under the intense heat of the bomb. There was no sound or shock wave in the vacuum of s.p.a.ce, but they all shuddered as though an overwhelming force had swept over them. Within seconds the flash was gone and the _Polaris_ was drifting in the cold blackness of s.p.a.ce! The only outward damage visible was the twisted stabilizer, but the boys realized that she must be a shambles within.

"I guess we'll have to wait a while before we go back aboard. There might be radioactivity around the hull," Roger remarked.

"I don't think so," said Tom. "The _Polaris_ was still coasting when we left her. We cut out the drive rockets, but we didn't brake her. She's probably drifted away from the radioactivity already."

"Corbett's right," said Connel. "A hot cloud would be a hundred miles away by now." He pressed down on the acceleration lever and the jet boat eased toward the s.h.i.+p. Edging cautiously toward the stern of the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, they saw the blasted section of the fin already cooling in the intense cold of outer s.p.a.ce.

"Think I'd better call a Solar Guard patrol s.h.i.+p, sir?" asked Roger.

"Let's wait until we check the damage, Manning," replied Connel.

"Yeah," chimed in Astro grimly, "if I can help it, I'm going to bring the _Polaris_ in." He paused and then added, "If I have to carry her on my back."

As soon as a quick check with the radiation counter showed them that the hull was free of radioactivity, Major Connel and the three cadets re-entered the s.h.i.+p.

While the lack of atmosphere outside had dissipated the full force of the blast, the effect on the inside of the s.h.i.+p, where Earth's air pressure was maintained, was devastating. Whole banks of delicate machinery were torn from the walls and scattered over the decks. The precision instruments of the inner hull showed no signs of leakage, and the oxygen-circulating machinery could still function on an auxiliary power hookup.

Completing the quick survey of the s.h.i.+p, Major Connel realized that they would never be able to continue their flight to Venus and instructed Roger to contact the nearest Solar Guard patrol s.h.i.+p to pick them up.

"The _Polaris_ will have to be left in s.p.a.ce," continued Connel, "and a maintenance crew will be sent out to see if she can be repaired. If they decide it isn't worth the labor, they'll junk her here in s.p.a.ce."

The faces of the three cadets fell.

"But there's no real damage on her power deck, sir," said Astro. "And the hull is in good shape, except for the stabilizer fin and some of the stern plates. Why, sometimes a green Earthworm unit will crack a fin on their first touchdown."

"And the radar deck can be patched up easy, sir," spoke up Roger. "With some new tubes and a few rolls of wire I could have her back in shape in no time."

"That goes for the control deck, too!" said Tom doggedly. Then, after a quick glance at his unit mates, he faced Connel squarely. "I think it goes without saying, sir, that we'd appreciate it very much if you could recommend that she be restored instead of junked."

Connel allowed himself a smile in the face of such obvious love for the s.h.i.+p. "You forget that to repair her out in s.p.a.ce, the parts have to be hauled from Venus. But I'll see what I can do. Meantime, Roger, see if you can't get that patrol s.h.i.+p to give us a lift to Venusport. Tell the C.O. I'm aboard and on urgent official business."

"Yes, sir," said Roger.

"And," continued the s.p.a.ceman, noticing the downcast looks of Tom and Astro, "it wouldn't hurt if you two started repairing as much as you can. So when the maintenance crew arrives, they won't find her in such a mess."

"Yes, sir!" chorused the two cadets happily.

Connel returned to his quarters and sat down heavily in the remains of his bunk, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Somehow, word had gotten out that he was going to check on the secret organization on Venus and someone had made a bold and desperate attempt to stop him before he could get started. It infuriated him to think that anyone would interrupt official business. As far as Connel was concerned, nothing came before official business. And he was doubly furious at the danger to the three cadets, who had innocently hitched a ride on what was almost a death s.h.i.+p. Someone was going to pay, Connel vowed, clenching his huge fists--and pay dearly.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER 4

"_Yeeooowww!_"

Roaring with jubilation and jumping high in the air at every other step, Astro raced out of the gigantic maintenance hangar at the Venusport s.p.a.ceport and charged at his two unit mates waiting on the concrete ap.r.o.n.

"Everything's O.K.," he yelled, throwing his arms around them. "The _Polaris_ is going to be brought in for full repairs! I just saw the audiograph report from the maintenance chief!"

Tom and Roger broke into loud cheers and pounded each other on the back.

"Great Jupiter," gasped Roger, "I feel as though I've been sitting up with a sick friend!"

"Your friend's going to make a full recovery," a.s.serted Astro.

"Did you see Major Connel?" asked Tom.

"Yeah," said Astro. "I think he had a lot to do with it. I saw him talking to the head maintenance officer."

"Well, now that we've sweated the old girl through the crisis," a.s.serted Roger, "how's about us concentrating on our vacation?"

"Great," agreed Tom. "This is your party, Astro. Lead the way."

The three cadets left the s.p.a.ceport in a jet cab and rode happily into the city of Venusport. As they slid along the superhighway toward the first and largest of the Venusian cities, Astro pointed out the sights.

Like slim fingers of gla.s.s, the towering t.i.tan crystal buildings of the city arose before them, reaching above the misty atmosphere to catch the sunlight.

"Where do we get our safari gear, Astro?" asked Roger.

"In the secondhand shops along s.p.a.ceman's Row," replied the big Venusian. "We can get good equipment down there at half the price."

The cab turned abruptly off the main highway and began twisting through a section of the city shunned by the average Venusian citizen.

s.p.a.ceman's Row had a long and unsavory history. For ten square blocks it was the hide-out and refuge of the underworld of s.p.a.ce. The grimy stores and shadowy buildings supplied the needs of the countless shadowy figures who lived beyond the law and moved as silently as ghosts.

Leaving the jet cab, the three cadets walked along the streets, past the cheaply decorated store fronts and dingy hallways, until they finally came to a corner shop showing the universal symbol of the p.a.w.nshop: three golden b.a.l.l.s. Tom and Roger looked at Astro who nodded, and they stepped inside.

The interior of the shop was filthy. Rusted and worn s.p.a.ce gear was piled in heaps along the walls and on dusty counters. An old-fas.h.i.+oned multiple neon light fixture cast an eerie blue glow over everything.

Roger grimaced as he looked around. "Are you sure we're in the right place, Astro?"

Tom winked. Roger had a reputation for being fastidious.

"This is it," nodded Astro. "I know the old geezer that runs this place. Nice guy. Name's Spike." He turned to the back of the shop and bawled, "Hey, Spike! Customers!"

Out of the gloomy darkness a figure emerged slowly. "Yeah?" The man stepped out into the pale light. He dragged one foot as he walked.

"Whaddaya want?"