Tom turned to the intercom. "Have you got the station's guiding beam, Roger?"
"All lined up, Tom," replied Roger from the radar bridge. "Get that Venusian on the power deck to give me a three-second shot on the starboard rocket, if he can find the right handles!"
"I heard that, Manning!" roared Astro's voice on the intercom. "Another crack like that and I'll make you get out and push this baby around!"
"You execute that order and do it blasted quick!" Major Connel's voice exploded over the intercom. "And watch that loose talk on the ship's intercom. From now on, all directions and orders will be given and received in a crisp, clear manner without unnecessary [familiarity]!"
Connel didn't expect them to acknowledge his order. The cadets had heard him and that was enough. He knew it was enough. In the short time it had taken them to traverse the immense gulf of space between the Academy and the station Connel had handed out demerits by fives and tens! Each of the cadets was now tagged with enough black marks to spend two months in the galley working them off!
Now, working together like the smooth team of junior spacemen they were, Tom, Roger, and Astro maneuvered the great rocket ship toward the gaping hole of the air lock in the side of the white ball-like satellite.
"Drop your bow one half degree, Polaris, you're up too high," warned the station control.
"A short burst on the upper trim rocket, Astro," called Tom.
The great ship bucked slightly under the force of sudden thrust, and then its nose dropped the required half degree.
"Cut all thrust and brake your speed to dead ship, Polaris," ordered traffic control.