ts to the five loaded firing
chambers and then turned to Connel. "All set to fire, sir!" he called.

"Any word from Manning?" asked Connel.

"Not while I've been here," replied Astro.

Connel picked up the intercom microphone. "Hello, Manning!" he shouted.
"What's the story?"

"Coming up to the last chapter," replied Roger over the intercom.
"Devers is holding course. Should cross our bow in two minutes!"

"Good," replied Connel. "Keep us posted!"

Replacing the microphone, he turned to Tom. "Stupid fool!" he snorted.
"He should've fired another torpedo and wiped us out. What's the matter
with him?" Connel abhorred stupidity, even in an adversary.

"Maybe he thinks we've already had it," suggested Astro. "With our stern
blasted away, he might figure all the air's gone out of the ship."

"Let's hope he keeps on figuring that way," said Connel. "Everything
ready to fire, Corbett?"

"All set, sir," the young cadet replied. "I've hooked up all circuits to
this button." He pointed to a button on the control panel. "We'll blast
in salvo."

"Oh, we will, will we?" exclaimed Connel.

"If you think it's advisable," Tom amended hurriedly.

"Of course it's advisable!" snorted Connel. "We're almost aiming blind
as it is. A salvo will give us a bigger spread. Besides," he added,
"with a whole barrel of luck, we might hit him with two of the
projectiles. That would really do some damage."

"I'd like just a little potful of luck," murmured Astro, "and be able to
land one."

"Heads up, down there!" Roger's voice suddenly sang out on the intercom.

"Devers crossing our bow yet?" asked Tom.

"He's still holding course," said Roger. "But he's training his number
one starboard tube this way. He's going to blast us again!"

"How long do we have to wait for that bow shot?" demanded Connel.

"Another forty-five seconds at least!" came Roger's reply.

"Blast it!" muttered Connel. "Plenty of time for him to fire."

Barret suddenly rose from his acceleration couch, screaming, "You can't
keep me here! Let me go!"

Astro grabbed him quickly and threw him back down. "Stay put," he
growled.

"No," cried Barret, frantic with fear. "It's murder! Let me go!"

"Relax and enjoy it, Barret," snorted Connel. "It's your boss who's
doing it!"

"What about Professor Hemmingwell, sir?" asked Tom. "Shouldn't we--?"

"No," Hemmingwell spoke up from his daze. "I want to stay with my ship."

"Hey!" Roger cried over the intercom. "