ockets and at the same time opened the
nose braking rockets. "Braking rockets on!" he yelled.

"One thousand feet to touchdown," said Tom.

Connel watched the dials spinning before him.

"Seven hundred and fifty feet to touchdown," reported Tom.

"Keep counting, Corbett!" yelled Connel enthusiastically.

"Five hundred feet!"

Connel quickly cut back the nose braking rockets and again opened the
main drive rockets as the ship plummeted tailfirst toward the surface of
Mars.

"Two hundred feet!" came the warning call over the intercom.

Connel glanced up at the teleceiver screen over his head that showed the
spaceport below. The concrete runways and platforms were rushing up to
meet the giant ship. He opened the main rockets full.

"Seventy-five feet! Stand by!" yelled Tom.

Connel's hands flashed over the control panel of the ship, snapping
switches, flipping levers, and turning dials in an effort to bring the
ship to a smooth landing. There was a sudden roar of rockets and then a
gentle bump.

"Touchdown!" roared Connel.

He flipped off the main switches on the control board, spun around in
his chair, and noted the time on the astral chronometer. "Touchdown
Marsport, 2117!" he announced.

Tom clambered down the ladder from the radar bridge and immediately
noted the time of arrival in the logbook. He turned around and saluted
the major sharply. "All secure, sir," he said.

"Congratulations on a smooth trip, Corbett," Connel said. "And thanks
for letting me take her in. I know it's unusual to have the senior
officer take over the ship, but once in a while I get the urge to put my
hands on those controls and--well--" Connel paused, fumbling for words.

Tom was so startled by the major's stumbling attempt to explain his
feelings, he felt himself blush. He had always suspected the major of
being a rocket jockey at heart and now he was certain. But he would
never tell anyone, not even Roger and Astro about this incident. It was
something he knew that he himself would feel if he ever got to be as old
as Major Connel and had reached his position. There passed between the
officer and the cadet a sudden feeling of mutual understanding.

"I understand, sir," said Tom quietly.

"Dismissed!" roared Connel, recovering his composure again, and very
conscious that he had exposed his innermost feelings to the cadet. But
he didn't mind too much. Tom Corbett had proven beyond the shadow of a
doubt that he had the stuff