ouldn't keep the friction of his own
unit under control?

Slowly, he left the room to wait for Astro in the recreation hall where
the results of the manuals would be announced. He thought of Astro, now
probably deep in his exam, and wondered how bad it would be for him.
Then another thought crossed his mind. Roger had said nothing of his own
test and neither he nor Astro had even inquired.

He shook his head. No matter where the unit placed in the manuals, it
just couldn't stay together.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER 7

It was customary for all Earthworm cadets to gather in the main
recreation hall to wait for the results of the manuals which would be
announced on the huge teleceiver screen. Since all the units were taking
their tests that afternoon, the hall was crowded with green-clad cadets,
talking in low murmurs and waiting tensely for the outcome of the exam.

Tom entered the huge room, looked around and then drifted toward Al
Dixon, the senior cadet who had greeted them as a unit after passing
classification tests. The blue-clad cadet was listening to a story
spool, a device that told a story, rather than let the person read it
from a book.

"Hiya, Corbett," said Dixon, smiling. "Drag up a chair. Listening to a
terrific yarn about a guy stranded on an asteroid and then he finds--"
The redheaded cadet's voice trailed off when he noticed that Tom wasn't
listening.

"Say, what's the matter with you? You look like you just lost your best
friend."

"Not yet, but it won't be long now," commented Tom, a trace of
bitterness creeping into his voice. "Astro's taking his power-deck
manual. What he knows about those compression ratios just isn't known.
But he just can't get it on paper."

"Don't sell your unit-mate short," said Dixon, sensing something
beneath Tom's comment. "I've heard that big fellow knows more about a
rocket deck than McKenny."

"Yeah, that's true," said Tom, "but--"

"You know, Corbett," said Dixon, switching off the story spool, "there's
something screwy in that outfit of yours."

"You can say that again," agreed Tom bitterly.

"You come in here with a face dragging on the floor, and Manning--"

Tom's head jerked up. "Manning! What about that space-gassing hot-shot?"

"--Manning just tore through the rec hall trying to get some of the
other Earthworm units to bet their galley demerits against your outfit."

Tom's mouth sagged open. "You mean, he actually wanted to bet that Astro