"Why can't you get on the Polaris?" asked Tom.
"They're jazzing up the power deck with a new hyperdrive unit for the big hop to Tara. So many guys buzzing around you can't get near it."
"What do you need a teleceiver for?" asked Tom.
"To give me company," replied Roger sourly. "Say!" He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Maybe if I just changed the frequency—"
"What frequency? What are you talking about?"
"Spaceboy, I'm getting a real hot-rocket idea! See ya later!" And the blond cadet ran for the door.
Tom watched his unit-mate disappear and shook his head in amused despair. Roger, he told himself, might be difficult, but he was certainly never dull.
Then his attention was brought back to the monitors by the warning of another approaching spaceship.
"... jet liner San Francisco to Venus space-station traffic control ..." the metallic voice crackled over the speaker.
"Jet liner San Francisco, this is Venus space-station traffic control," replied Tom. "You are cleared for landing at port eleven—repeat—eleven. Make standard check for approach orbit to station landing. End transmission!"