ill kindly leave the ship immediately." He
repeated the announcement again and turned to smile at the last
lingering youngster ogling him before being yanked toward an exit by a
tired and impatient mother.

The hatch to the radar bridge opened and Roger climbed down the ladder
to flop wearily in the pilot's seat in front of the control panel.

"If one more scatterbrained female asks me how the astrogation prism
works," groaned the blond cadet, "I'll give it to her and let her figure
it out for herself!"

Astro joined them long enough to announce that he had made sandwiches
and brewed hot chocolate. Tom and Roger followed him back to the galley.

Sipping the hot liquid, the three cadets looked at each other without
speaking, each understanding what the other had been through. Even
Astro, who normally would rather talk about his atomic engine than eat,
confessed he was tired of explaining the functions of the reaction fuel
force feed and the main valve of the cooling pumps.

"The worst of it is," sighed Astro, "they all pick on the same valve.
What's so fascinating about one valve?"

Tom's job on the control deck was less tiring, since his was more of a
command post, which demanded decisions, as conditions arose, rather than
a fixed routine that could be explained. But even so, to be asked over
and over what the astral chronometer was, how he could read time on
Earth, Mars, Venus, Titan, Ganymede, and all the satellites at the same
time was wearing on the toughest of young spirits.

Eager to forget the grueling day of questions and answers, the cadets
turned their thoughts to the mysterious midnight activity that had been
taking place around the spaceship concession during the last ten days.

"I just can't figure out what those guys are up to," said Roger, blowing
on his hot chocolate. "We've watched those guys for over a week now and
no one has even come near them with anything that could be smuggled."

"Could be a small package," suggested Astro, his mouth full of ham
sandwich. "Somebody could take a ride and slip it to them."

"Hardly," said Tom. "Remember, that ship blasts off like she's loaded to
the nose with cargo. And then she comes back like a feather. You can
tell by the sound of her jets. So it wouldn't be anything small enough
for someone to carry."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," agreed Astro.

"Well," said Tom finally, "I'm stumped. I think the only thing left to
do is to decide if it's anything