CHAPTER 18
"You think it'll last much longer?" asked Astro.
"I don't know, old fellow," replied Tom.
"You know, sometimes you can hear the wind even through the skin of theship," commented Roger.
For two days the cadets of the _Polaris_ unit had been held prisoner inthe power deck while the violence of the New Sahara sandstorm ragedaround them outside the ship. For a thousand square miles the desert wasa black cloud of churning sand, sweeping across the surface of Mars likea giant shroud.
After many attempts to repair a small generator, Astro finallysucceeded, only to discover that he had no means of running the unit.His plan was to relieve the rapidly weakening emergency batteries with amore steady source of power.
While Astro occupied himself repairing the generator, Tom and Roger hadslept, but after the first day, when sleep would no longer come, theyresorted to playing checkers with washers and nuts on a board scratchedon the deck.
"Think it's going to let up soon?" asked Roger.
"They've been known to last for a week or more," said Astro.
"Wonder if Strong has discovered we're missing?" mused Roger.
"Sure he has," replied Tom. "He's a real spaceman. Can smell out troublelike a telemetered alarm system."
Astro got up and stretched. "I'll bet we're out of this five hours afterthe sand settles down."
The big Venusian walked to the side of the power deck and pressed hisear against the hull, listening for the sound of the wind.
After a few seconds he turned back. "I can't hear a thing, fellas. Ihave a feeling it's about played itself out."
"Of course," reasoned Tom, "we have no real way of knowing when it'sstopped and when it hasn't."
"Want to open the hatch and take a look?" asked Astro.
Tom looked questioningly at Roger, who nodded his head in agreement.
Tom walked over to the hatch and began undogging the heavy door. As thelast of the heavy metal bars were raised, sand began to trickle insidearound the edges. Astro bent down and sifted a handful through hisfingers. "It's so fine, it's like powder," he said as it fell to thedeck in a fine cloud.
"Come on," said Tom, "give me a hand with this hatch. It's probablyjammed up against sand on the other side."
Tom, Roger and Astro braced their shoulders against the door, but whenthey tried to push, they lost their footing and slipped down. Astrodragged over a section of lead baffle, jammed it between the rocketmotors and placed his feet up against it. Tom and Roger got on eitherside of him and pressed their shoulders against the door.
"All right," said Tom. "When I give the word, let's all push together.Ready?"
"All set," said Astro.
"Let's go," said Roger.
"O.K.--then--one--two--three--_push_!"
Together, the three cadets strained against the heavy steel hatch. Themuscles in Astro's legs bulged into knots as he applied his great weightand strength against the door. Roger, his face twisted into a grimacefrom the effort, finally slumped to the floor, gasping for breath.
"Roger," asked Tom quickly, "are you all right?"
Roger nodded his head but stayed where he was, breathing deeply. Finallyrecovering his strength, he rose and stood up against the hatch with histwo unit-mates.
"You and Roger just give a steady pressure, Tom," said Astro. "Don't tryto push it all at once. Slow and steady does it! That way you get moreout of your effort."
"O.K.," said Tom. Roger nodded. Again they braced themselves against thehatch.
"One--two--three--_push_!" counted Tom.
Slowly, applying the pressure evenly, they heaved against the steelhatch. Tom's head swam dizzily, as the blood raced through his veins.
"Keep going," gasped Astro. "I think it's giving a little!"
Tom and Roger pushed with the last ounce of strength in their bodies,and after a final desperate effort, slumped to the floor breathless.Astro continued to push, but a moment later, relaxed and slipped downbeside Tom and Roger.
They sat on the deck for nearly five minutes gasping for air.
"Like--" began Roger, "like father--like son!" He blurted the words outbitterly.
"Like who?" asked Astro.
"Like my father," said Roger in a hard voice. He got up and walkedunsteadily over to the oxygen bottle and kicked it. "Empty!" he saidwith a harsh laugh. "Empty and we only have one more bottle. Empty as myhead the day I got into this space-happy outfit!"
"You going to start that again!" growled Astro. "I thought you had grownout of your childish bellyaching about the Academy." Astro eyed theblond cadet with a cold eye. "And now, just because you're in a toughspot, you start whining again!"
"Knock it off, Astro," snapped Tom. "Come on. Let's give this hatchanother try. I think it gave a little on that last push."
"Never-say-die Corbett!" snarled Roger. "Let's give it the old try fordear old Space Academy!"
Tom whirled around and stood face to face with Manning.
"I think maybe Astro's right, Roger," he said coldly. "I think you're afoul ball, a space-gassing hot-shot that can't take it when the chipsare down!"
"That's right," said Roger coldly. "I'm just what you say! Go ahead,push against that hatch until your insides drop out and see if you canopen it!" He paused and looked directly at Tom. "If that sand haspenetrated inside the ship far enough and heavily enough to jam thathatch, you can imagine what is on top, outside! A mountain of sand! Andwe're buried under it with about eight hours of oxygen left!"
Tom and Astro were silent, thinking about the truth in Roger's words.Roger walked slowly across the deck and stood in front of themdefiantly.
"You were counting on the ship being spotted by Captain Strong or partof a supposed searching party! Ha! What makes you think three cadets areso important that the Solar Guard will take time out to look for us? Andif they _do_ come looking for us, the only thing left up there now"--hepointed his finger over his head--"is a pile of sand like any other sanddune on this crummy planet. We're stuck, Corbett, so lay off that lastchance, do-or-die routine. I've been eating glory all my life. If I dohave to splash in now, I want it to be on my own terms. And that's tojust sit here and wait for it to come. And if they pin the Medal--theSolar Medal--on me, I'm going to be up there where all good spacemen go,having the last laugh, when they put my name alongside my father's!"
"Your father's?" asked Tom bewilderedly.
"Yeah, my father. Kenneth Rogers Manning, Captain in the Solar Guard.Graduate of Space Academy, class of 2329, killed while on duty in space,June 2335. Awarded the Solar Medal _posthumously_. Leaving a widow andone son, _me_!"
Astro and Tom looked at each other dumfounded.
"Surprised, huh?" Roger's voice grew bitter. "Maybe that clears up a fewthings for you. Like why I never missed on an exam. I never missedbecause I've lived with Academy textbooks since I was old enough toread. Or why I wanted the radar deck instead of the control deck. Ididn't want to have to make a decision! My father had to make a decisiononce. As skipper and pilot of the ship he decided to save a crewman'slife. He died saving a bum, a no good space-crawling rat!"
Tom and Astro sat stupefied at Roger's bitter tirade. He turned awayfrom them and gave a short laugh.
"I've lived with only one idea in my head since I was big enough to knowwhy other kids had fathers to play ball with them and I didn't. To getinto the Academy, get the training and then get out and cash in! Otherkids had fathers. All I had was a lousy hunk of gold, worth exactly fivehundred credits! A Solar Medal. And my mother! Trying to scrape by on alousy pension that was only enough to keep us going, but not enough toget me the extra things other kids had. It couldn't bring back myfather!"
"That night--in Galaxy Hall, when you were crying--?" asked Tom.
"So eavesdropping is one of your talents too, eh, Corbett?" asked Rogersarcastically.
"Now, wait a minute, Roger," said Astro, getting up.
"Stay out of this, Astro!" snapped Roger. He paused and looked back
atTom. "Remember that night on the monorail going into Atom City? That manBernard who bought dinner for us? He was a boyhood friend of myfather's. He didn't recognize me, and I didn't tell him who I wasbecause I didn't want you space creeps to know that much about me. Andremember, when I gave Al James the brush in that restaurant in AtomCity? He was talking about the old days, and he might have spilled thebeans too. It all adds up, doesn't it? I had a reason I told you andit's just this! To make Space Academy pay me back! To train me to be oneof the best astrogators in the universe so I could go into commercialships and pile up credits! Plenty of credits and have a good life, andbe sure my mother had a good life--what's left of it. And the wholething goes right back to when my father made the decision to let a spacerat live, and die in his place! So leave me alone with your last bigefforts--and grandstand play for glory. From now on, keep your big fatmouth shut!"
"I--I don't know what to say, Roger," began Tom.
"Don't try to say anything, Tom," said Astro. There was a coldness inhis voice that made Tom turn around and stare questioningly at the bigVenusian.
"You can't answer him because you came from a good home. With a mom andpop and brother and sister. You had it good. You were lucky, but I don'thold it against you because you had a nice life and I didn't." Astrocontinued softly, "You can't answer Mr. Hot-shot Manning, but I can!"
"What do you mean?" asked Tom.
"I mean that Manning doesn't know what it is to really have it tough!"
"You got a _real_ hard luck story, eh, big boy?" snarled Roger.
"Yeah, I have!" growled Astro. "I got one that'll make your life looklike a spaceman's dream. At least you _know_ about your father. And youlived with your mother. I didn't have _anything--nothing_! Did you hearthat, Manning? I didn't even have a pair of shoes, until I found a kidat the Venusport spaceport one day and figured his shoes would fit me. Ibeat the space gas out of him and took his shoes. And then they were sotight, they hurt my feet. I don't know who my father was, nothing abouthim, except that he was a spaceman. A rocket buster, like me. And mymother? She died when I was born. Since I can remember, I've been on myown. When I was twelve, I was hanging around the spaceport day andnight. I learned to buck rockets by going aboard when the ships werecradled for repairs, running dry runs, going through the motions, Italked to spacemen--all who would listen to me. I lied about my age, andbecause I was a big kid, I was blasting off when I was fifteen. Whatlittle education I've got, I picked up listening to the crew talk onlong hops and listening to every audioslide I could get my hands on.I've had it tough. And because I _have_ had it tough, I want to forgetabout it. I don't want to be reminded what it's like to be so hungrythat I'd go out into jungles and trap small animals and take a chance onmeeting a tyrannosaurus. So lay off that stuff about feeling sorry foryourself. And about Tom being a hero, because with all your space gasyou still can't take it! And if you don't want to fight to live, then golie down in the corner and just keep your big mouth shut!"
Tom stood staring at the big cadet. His head jutted forward from hisshoulders, the veins in his neck standing out like thick cords. He knewAstro had been an orphan, but he had never suspected the big cadet'slife had been anything like that which he had just described.
Roger had stood perfectly still while Astro spoke. Now, as the big cadetwalked back to the hatch and nervously began to examine the edges withhis finger tips, Roger walked over and stood behind him.
"Well, you knuckle-headed orphan," said Roger, "are you going to get usout of here, or not?"
Astro whirled around, his face grim, his hands balled into fists, readyto fight. "What's that, Mann--?" He stopped. Roger was smiling andholding out his hand.
"Whether you like it or not, you poor little waif, you've just madeyourself a friend."
Tom came up to them and leaned against the door casually. "When you twostop gawking at each other like long-lost brothers," he said lazily,"suppose we try to figure a way out of this dungeon."