"The projectiles!" exclaimed Roger. "We've got to get out of here!"
"By the craters of Luna!" cried Astro. "I forgot all about them!"
Tom, Roger, Astro, Hemmingwell, and Connel raced out of the air lock to their stations. Astro poured on the power without waiting for an order from the control deck and soon they were rocketing into the safety of space.
Watching the wildly flying missiles on the teleceiver screen, Connel breathed a sigh of relief.
"Wow!" he snorted. "Glad we're out of that mess."
"But what are we going to do about them, sir," asked Tom, a worried frown wrinkling his forehead as he watched the screen. "We can't just leave those things there. Some other ship may—"
"Don't worry about it," Connel broke in brusquely. "The projectiles will run out of fuel in a few minutes and they'll just drift. They can be fished out any time."
"We can go back and get them ourselves," said the young cadet eagerly. "Roger and I can—"
"We've got more important things to do now!" thundered Connel. Switching on the intercom, he ordered Roger and Astro to report to the control deck. They appeared within seconds of his order and he faced the three cadets grimly.
"Well, boys," he asked, "what's the story?"