man's nickname. "Give it
to them. Show them no mercy. By the rings of Saturn, they've got to be
made to realize their responsibilities!"

"Yes, sir," said the thick little man.

Strong walked out of the room without another word, nor even a backward
glance at the cadets.

As soon as the door closed, Timothy "Firehouse" Rush faced the three
cadets, his beaten and battered face glowing with anticipation.

"Get this!" he growled. "When you're assigned to guard duty with the
E.M.'s of the Solar Guard, you leave your immunity as cadets here in the
Academy. From now on, you belong to me. And I'll tell you right now,
there isn't anything in space that I hate more, or think less of, than
Space Cadets. You get special privileges you don't deserve because you
wear that uniform. You get a chance to learn to be a spaceman and most
of you muff it. I've got E.M.'s in my outfit that could blast circles
around either of you--guys that deserve the chance you've got, and
fouled out because they can't spell or don't know how to hold a cup of
tea with their fingers the right way. When you come to me, it means
you've done something bad. You're on your way out. And I'm going to try
my best to see that you make it--_out_." He took a step forward and
glared at them. "Report to me at 1800 hours and"--his voice dropped to a
gravelly roar--"you better not be late--and you better not be early."

He spun on his heels in a perfect about-face and left the room.

"There is only one consolation," sighed Tom. "The _Capella_ unit is
getting the same thing we're getting."

"Here we go!" breathed Roger slowly.

"I've been thinking about quitting the Academy, anyway," growled Astro.

CHAPTER 4

"Halt!"

Roger growled the order into the darkness and unslung the paralo-ray
rifle from his shoulder, bringing it around to firing position. "Advance
and be recognized," he said flatly.

Nothing moved. Even the air seemed still.

"Advance and be recognized," Roger ordered again. Still nothing moved.
The cadet glanced around quickly in the direction of the guardhouse
where he knew there was a communicator to the sergeant of the guard.
Should he call for help? He decided against it and moved forward toward
the noise he had heard, his finger poised on the trigger of the
paralo-ray gun.

"Advance and be recognized," he called again. As he walked slowly
between the huge packing cases piled outside the newly constructed
hangar, he saw a shadowy