Part 3 (1/2)

”Stand by for touchdown!” bellowed Captain Strong's voice on the big s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p's intercom.

”Control deck standing by,” replied Tom.

”Corbett,” Strong continued, ”you may take her down as soon as you get clearance from Venusport traffic control.”

Tom acknowledged the order with a brisk ”Aye, sir! In a few moments he received permission to touch down on the newly colonized planet. Then, turning his attention to the control board, he requested a ground-approach check from Roger.

”About two miles to touchdown, Tom,” reported Roger from the radar bridge. ”Trajectory clear!”

”O.K., Roger,” said Tom. Glancing quickly at the air speed and rocket thrust indicators, he flipped a switch and sang out, ”Power deck, reduce thrust on main drive rockets to minimum!”

”Got ya, Tom,” boomed Astro.

”Closing in fast, sir,” said Tom to Strong, who had come up from below and now stood at the cadet's shoulder watching as Tom maneuvered the big s.h.i.+p through the Venusian atmosphere, his keen eyes sweeping the great panel of recording gauges and dials.

”One thousand feet to touchdown,” intoned Roger from the radar bridge.

Reacting swiftly, Tom adjusted several levers, then picking up the intercom microphone, he threw a switch and yelled, ”Power deck! Full braking thrust!”

Deep inside the _Polaris_, Astro, who tended the mighty rocket power plant with loving care, eased home the sensitive control mechanism, applying even pressure to the braking rockets.

As the giant s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p settled smoothly to within a few feet of the surface of the concrete s.p.a.ceport, Tom threw the master switch that cut all power. A moment later the huge craft dropped easily, then settled on the landing platform with a gentle thump.

”Touchdown!” yelled Tom. Then, glancing at the astral chronometer on the control board, he turned to Strong, and saluting smartly, reported, ”_Polaris_ completes s.p.a.ce flight at exactly seven fifty-two-O-two!”

Strong returned the salute. ”Very well, Tom. Now, I want you, Roger, and Astro to come with me to the exposition commissioner's office for an interview and detailed orders.”

”Yes, sir,” said Tom.

A few minutes later, dressed in fresh uniforms, the three cadets followed their unit commander out of the s.h.i.+p, then stood by as Strong ordered the chief petty officer of an enlisted Solar Guard working party to prepare the _Polaris_ for moving to the exposition site.

”Empty the reactant fuel tanks of all but enough for us to raise s.h.i.+p and touch down over to the fairgrounds,” said Strong. ”Better strip her of armament, too. Paralo-ray pistols and rifles, the three-inch and six-inch atomic blasters, narco sleeping gas; in fact, everything that could possibly cause any trouble.”

”Yes, sir,” replied the scarlet-clad enlisted s.p.a.ceman.

”One thing more,” added Strong. ”There will be a crew living aboard, so please see that the galley is stocked with a full supply of both fresh and synthetic foods. That's about all, I guess.”

”Very well, sir,” replied the petty officer with a crisp salute. He turned and began bawling orders to a squad of men behind him and immediately they were swarming over the great s.h.i.+p like ants.

Fifteen minutes later, a jet cab swerved to a stop in front of the tallest of the Venusport buildings, the Solar Alliance Chamber. Strong paid the driver, adding a handsome tip, and flanked by his three cadets strode briskly into the building.

Crossing a high-ceilinged lobby, they entered an express vacuum elevator and five seconds later stepped out onto the four-hundredth floor. There, Strong slid a panel door to one side, and, followed by the cadets, stepped inside the office of Mike Hawks, exposition commissioner and retired senior officer of the Solar Guard.

The office was impressively large and airy, with an outside wall forming a viewport of clear t.i.tan crystal reaching from floor to vaulted ceiling and affording a magnificent view of the city of Venusport and, beyond it, the futuristic buildings of the exposition itself. Another wall, equally as large, was covered by a map of the exposition grounds.

Mike Hawks, a man with steel-gray hair, clear blue eyes, and a ramrod military bearing, sat behind a ma.s.sive desk talking to two men. He looked up when Strong and the cadets walked in and rose quickly with a broad smile to greet them.

”Steve!” he exclaimed, rounding the desk to shake hands with his old friend. ”I never dreamed we'd have you and the _Polaris_ unit at our fair!” He nodded warmly to the cadets who stood at rigid attention. ”At ease, cadets. Glad to have you aboard.”

”I was just as surprised to get this a.s.signment, Mike,” said Strong, pumping the officer's hand. Nodding toward the men seated in front of Hawks' desk, he apologized, ”Sorry to bust in on you like this, old man.