IV
The first three weeks of an Earthworm’s life at Space Academy are filled with never-ending physical training and conditioning to meet the rigors of rocket flight and life on distant planets. And under the grueling pressure of fourteen-hour days, filled with backbreaking exercises and long forced marches, very few of the boys can find anything more desirable than sleep—and more sleep.
Under this pressure the friction in Unit 42-D became greater and greater. Roger and Astro continually needled each other with insults, and Tom gradually slipped into the role of arbiter.
Returning from a difficult afternoon of endless marching in the hot sun with the prospect of an evening of free-fall wrestling before them, the three cadets dragged themselves wearily onto the slidestairs leading to their quarters, their muscles screaming for rest.
“Another day like this,” began Astro listlessly, “and I’m going to melt down to nothing. Doesn’t McKenny have a heart?”
“No, just an asteroid,” Tom grumbled. “He’ll never know how close he came to getting a space boot in the face when he woke us up this morning. Oh, man! Was I tired!”
“Stop complaining, will you?” snarled Roger. “All I’ve heard from you two space crawlers is gripes and complaints.”
“If I wasn’t so tired, Roger,” said Astro, “I’d give you something to gripe about. A flat lip!”
“Knock it off, Astro,” said Tom wearily. The role of keeping them apart was getting tiresome.
“The trouble with you, Astro,” pursued Roger, “is that you think with your muscles instead of your head.”
“Yeah, I know. And you’ve got an electronic calculator for a brain. All you have to do is push a button and you get the answers all laid out for you.”
They had reached their quarters now and were stripping off their sweat-soaked uniforms in preparation for a cool shower.
“You know, Roger,” continued Astro, “you’ve got a real problem ahead of you.”
“Any problem you think I have is no problem at all,” was the cool reply.
“Yes, it is,” insisted Astro. “When you’re ready for your first hop in space, you won’t be able to make it!”
“Why not?”
“They don’t have a space helmet in the Academy large enough to fit that overinflated head of yours!”
Roger turned slowly and spoke to Tom without looking at him. “Close the door, Corbett!”
“Why?” asked Tom, puzzled.
“Because I don’t want any interruptions. I’m going to take that big hunk of Venusian space junk apart.”
“Anything you say, you bigmouthed squirt!” roared Astro.
“Hey—knock it off!” yelled Tom, jumping between them and grabbing Astro’s arm. “If you guys don’t lay off each other, you’re going to be thrown out of the Academy, and I’ll be thrown out with you! I’ll be blasted if I’ll suffer for your mistakes!”
“That’s a very interesting statement, Corbett!” A deep voice purred from the doorway and the three boys whirled to see Captain Strong walk into the room, his black and gold uniform fitting snugly across the shoulders betraying their latent strength. “Stand to—all of you!”
As the boys quickly snapped to attention, Strong eyed them slowly and then moved casually around the room. He picked up a book, looked out of the window port, pushed a boot to one side and, finally, removed Tom’s sweat-stained uniform from a chair and sat down. The cadets held their rigid poses, backs stiff, eyes looking straight ahead.
“Corbett?” snapped Strong.
“Yes, sir?”
“What was the meaning of that little speech I heard a moment ago?”
“I—ah—don’t quite understand what you mean, sir,” stumbled Tom.
“I think you do,” said Strong. “I want to know what provoked you to make such a statement.”
“I’d rather not answer that, sir.”
“Don’t get cute, Corbett!” barked Strong. “I know what’s going on in this unit. Were Manning and Astro squaring off to fight?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Tom slowly.
“All right. At ease all of you,” said Strong. The three boys relaxed and faced the officer.
“Manning, do you want to be a successful cadet here at Space Academy?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Roger.
“Then why don’t you act like it?” asked Strong.
“Is there something wrong with my work, sir?” Tom recognized the smooth Manning confidence begin to appear, and he wondered if Captain Strong would be taken in.
“Everything’s wrong with your work,” barked Strong. “You’re too smart! Know too much!” He stopped short and then added softly with biting sarcasm, “Why do you know so much, Cadet Manning?”
Roger hesitated. “I’ve studied very hard. Studied for years to become a Space Cadet,” he replied.
“Just to be a cadet or a successful cadet and a Solar Guard officer?”
“To be successful at both, sir.”
“Tell me, Manning, do you have any ideas on life?”
“That’s a pretty general question, sir. Do you mean life as a whole or a specific part of life?” They’re fencing with each other, thought Tom. He held his breath as Strong eyed the relaxed, confident cadet.
“A spaceman is supposed to have but one idea in life, Manning. And that idea is space!”
“I see, sir,” replied Roger, as a faraway look came into his eyes.
“Yes, sir, I have some ideas about life in space.”
“I’d like to hear them!” requested Strong coldly.
“Very well, sir.” Roger relaxed his shoulders and leaned against the bunk. “I believe space is the last frontier of man—Earthman. It’s the last place for man to conquer. It is the greatest adventure of all time and I want to be a part of that adventure.”
“Thank you, Manning.” Strong’s voice was even colder than before. “But as it happens, I can read too. That was a direct quote from the closing paragraph of Jon Builker’s book on his trip to the stars!” He paused. “Couldn’t you think of anything original to say?”
Roger flushed and gritted his teeth. Tom could hardly keep himself from laughing. Captain Strong had scored heavily!
The Solar Guard officer then turned his attention to Astro.
“Astro, where in the name of the universe did you get the idea you could be an officer in the Solar Guard?”
“I can handle anything with push in it, sir!” Astro smiled his confidence.
“Know anything about hyperdrive?”
“Uhh—no, sir.”
“Then you can’t handle everything with, as you say, push in it!”
