h.

"Why--I--"

"Come on, man!" shouted Connel. "Out with it."

"I called about getting a new timer for the projectile fuel-injection
system," snapped Barret. "The timer is too slow for our needs. I wanted
to adjust it myself, but the projectile is so compact, I can't get at it
without taking a chance of getting doused by the fuel."

"What about that remark about finding an opening?" growled Connel.

"What's going on here?" called Professor Hemmingwell as he bustled up to
the group. "Why aren't these men working? Dave, why aren't you up
there--?"

"Just a minute, Professor!" Connel barked, and turned back to Barret.
"Go ahead, Barret."

"They can't make a new timer until I find a way of installing it without
taking apart the whole projectile," said Barret, adding sarcastically,
"in other words, Major--finding an opening."

"All right," barked Connel. "That's enough." He turned to the assembled
workers. "Get back to work, all of you." The men moved away and
Firehouse Tim led the guards back to their quarters. Professor
Hemmingwell, Barret, and Astro remained where they were.

Connel turned to Astro. "Good work, you dumb Venusian," he snorted.
"But so help me, if you had burned this man, I, personally, would've
buried you on a prison rock." The major then turned to Barret. "As for
you--" he snarled.

"Yes?" asked Barret coolly.

"You make one more call like that over a public teleceiver," Connel
roared, "especially a transspace call that's monitored by the idiots in
the teleceiver company, and I'll send _you_ to a prison asteroid!"

"Now, Major," said Hemmingwell testily, "I don't think you should speak
to Dave that way. After all, he's a very valuable man in this project."

"How valuable would he be if this cadet had gone ahead and blasted him?"
snarled Connel.

"It's just another example of how these stupid boys have obstructed my
work here," replied Hemmingwell angrily. "I can't see why they have to
interfere this way. And they always pick on poor Dave."

"Yes," snarled Barret. "I'm getting pretty tired of being a clay pigeon
for a bunch of brats." He turned to Astro. "You'll have a head full of
socket wrench if you mess with me again."

"You'll get a receipt, Barret," growled Astro. "Paid in full."

"All right, break it up," growled Connel. "Back to your post, Astro. And
you get back to work, Barret, and remember what I said about using that
public teleceiver."

Barret and Hemmingwell walked off