Astro turned, startled. "We've tried building that lead baffle for the reactant units five times now, sir," said Astro. "We're having a hard time getting the correct amount of reactant power we need in a unit this small."
"Maybe you're trying to make it too small, Astro," commented Connel, looking over the drawing. "Remember, this unit has but one job. To start the reaction. When the reaction fuel gets hot enough, it'll start a reaction of the copper on Junior and sustain itself. Try a smaller amount of the reactant. But whatever you do, keep working. Only a day and a few hours left."
Connel looked at Shinny. "Keep him working, Mr. Shinny," he ordered. "I know he can do it. Just keep him going."
Shinny grinned and nodded.
"I'll try, sir," said Astro, shaking his head, "but I won't guarantee it—"
Connel cut him off with a roar. "Cadet Astro, I don't want your guarantee! I want that unit. Now build it!"
Hour after hour the cadets racked their brains for what seemed like impossible answers to an impossible task. Working until their eyes closed fast shut, they would lie down right where they were—power deck, control deck, or radar bridge—and sleep. They would awake, still groggy, drink hot tea, eat cold sandwiches, and continue their struggle with time and astrophysics.
One by one, the problems were solved and set aside for newer ones that arose on the way. Each cadet worked in his particular field, and all of their information was assembled and co-ordinated by Major Connel. More than once, Connel had found the clever minds of his cadets reaching for answers to questions he knew would have troubled the professors back at Space Academy. Connel, his eye on the clock, his sharp tongue lashing out when he thought he detected unclear thinking, raced from one department to another while the incessant work continued. On the morning of the fourth day he walked into the radar bridge where Roger and Alfie had been working steadily for seventy-two hours on an electronic fuse to trigger the reactant units.
"There you are, skipper," said Roger. "The fuse is all yours. Delivered twelve hours ahead of time!"
"Good work, Roger. You too, Alfie. Excellent!" said Connel, his eyes appraising the fuse.