ront of him. Satisfied, he fastened his eyes on the sweep hand of
the time clock. Above his head, the teleceiver screen brought him a
clear picture of the Academy spaceport. He watched the giant cruisers
take to the air one by one and rocket into the vastness of space.

The clock hand reached the ten-second mark.

"Stand by to raise ship!" Tom called into the intercom. The red hand
moved steadily, inexorably. Tom reached for the master switch.

"Blast off minus--five--four--three--two--one--_zero_!"

Tom threw the switch.

The great ship hovered above the ground for a few moments. Then it
heaved itself skyward, faster and ever faster, pushing the Earthmen deep
into their acceleration cushions.

Reaching free-fall space, Tom flipped on the artificial-gravity
generator. He felt its pull on his body, quickly checked all the
instruments and turned to Captain Strong.

"Ship space-borne at six hundred fifty-three, sir."

"Very well, Corbett," replied Strong. "Check in with the _Arcturus_,
_Capella_ and the _Centauri_, form up on one another and assume a course
that will bring you back over Academy spaceport at eight hundred hours,
when we will open orders."

"Yes, sir," said Tom, turning back eagerly to the control board.

For nearly two hours the four rocket ships of Squadron A moved through
space in a perfect arc, shaping up for the 0800 deadline. Strong made
use of the time to check a new astrogation prism perfected by Dr. Dale
for use at hyperspace speeds. Tom rechecked his instruments, then
prepared hot tea and sandwiches in the galley for his shipmates.

"This is what I call service," said Astro. He stood stripped to the
waist, a wide leather belt studded with assorted wrenches of various
shapes and sizes strapped around his hips. In one hand he carried a wad
of waste cotton with which he continually polished the surfaces of the
atomic motors, while his eyes constantly searched the many gauges in
front of him for the slightest sign of engine failure.

"Never mind bringing anything up to Manning. I'll eat his share."

Astro had deliberately turned the intercom on so Roger on the radar deck
might hear. The response from that corner was immediate and emphatic.

"Listen, you rocket-headed grease monkey," yelled Roger. "If you so much
as smell that grub, I'll come down and feed you into the reactant
chamber!"

Tom smiled at Astro and turned to the ladder leading up from the power
deck. Passing through the co