t's the man you're
going to work for."

Scott walked over to the circular desk and spoke rapidly to the officer
inside. As Tom approached, Stefens gave him a quick, sharp glance. It
sent a shiver down the cadet's spine. Scott waved to him to come over.

"Captain Stefens, this is Cadet Tom Corbett."

Tom came to attention.

"All right, Corbett," said Stefens, speaking like a man who had a lot
to do, knew how to do it, liked to do it, and was losing time. "Stand up
here with me and keep your mouth shut. Remember any questions you want
to ask, and when I have a spare moment, ask them. And by the rings of
Saturn, be sure I'm free to answer. Take my attention at the wrong
moment and we could have a bad accident."

Stefens gave Scott a fleeting smile and turned back to his constant
keen-eyed inspection of the monitors.

The radar watch was reporting the approach of a ship. Stefens began his
cold, precise orders.

"Monitor seven, take freighter out of station on port sixty-six; monitor
twelve, stand by for identification signal of jet liner coming in from
Mars. Watch her closely. The Venusport Space Line is overloading again...."
On and on he went, with Tom standing to one side watching with
wide-eyed wonder as the many ships were maneuvered into and out of the
station.

Suddenly Stefens turned to Tom. "Well, Corbett," he rasped, "what's the
first question?"

Tom gulped. He had been so fascinated by the room's sheer magic and by
Stefens' sure control of the traffic that he hadn't had a chance to
think.

"I--I--don't have one--yet, sir," he managed finally.

"I want five questions within five minutes!" snapped Stefens, "and they
better be rocket-blasting _good questions_!" He turned back to the
monitors.

Tom Corbett, while he had gained the respect of many elder spacemen, was
discovering that a cadet's life got no easier as time went on. He
wondered fleetingly how Roger and Astro were making out, and then he
began to think of some questions.

Beside him, oblivious of his presence, Stefens continued to spout
directions. "Monitor three, take rocket scout out of landing-port
eight. One crew member is remaining aboard the station for medical
treatment. He weighs one hundred and fifty-eight pounds. Make balance
adjustments accordingly...."

Tom's head was spinning. It was all too much for one young cadet to
absorb on such short notice.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER 6

"There goes the jet liner to Mars,"