"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—" he paused. Junior began moving away from them. "Nine!" shouted Connel. "What happened to nine?"
"Roger," shouted Astro, "you made a mistake on the timer!"
"But I couldn't. I—I—"
Connel spun around, his eyes blazing, breathing hard. "What time did you set the last one for, Roger?" he demanded.
"Why, twenty minutes to blast-off time, sir," answered the blond-headed cadet.
"Then it won't go off for another forty minutes," said Connel.
"But, sir—" began Roger, and then fell silent. The room was quiet. Everyone looked at Roger and then at Connel. "Honestly, sir, I didn't mean to make a mistake. I—" pleaded Roger.
Connel turned around. His face suddenly looked very tired. "That's all right, Roger," he said quietly. "We've all been working pretty hard. One little mistake is bound to show up in an operation like this." He paused. "It's my fault. I should have checked those fuses myself."
"Does it make so much difference, sir?" asked Astro.
"A lot of difference, Astro," said Connel. He sat down heavily.