"I know, sir, but—" Slick stammered. "Well, sir, once in a while I like to do it myself."
Tom turned away, hiding a smile. The young officer was expressing the same feelings Connel himself had uttered just a few minutes before. Connel cleared his throat, and with a sidelong glance at Tom and a wink, dismissed the young officer, ordering him to have a jet car sent for them right away.
"Take mine, sir," said the young officer, happy to have escaped Connel's wrath so easily. It was not too long ago that he had been a cadet at the Academy and he remembered all too clearly what Connel could do when he was mad.
When the jet car was brought up, Tom slipped behind the wheel, and with Connel seated beside him, he sent the sleek little vehicle roaring across the spaceport to the main administration building.
Inside the gleaming crystal building, Connel and Tom were escorted by a Space Marine guard to the office of the spaceport commander, Captain Jim Arnold. He and Connel knew each other well, and after quick greetings and the introduction of the young cadet, Connel asked for the latest reports on the projectile receivers.
"Lou, I've got good news for you," announced Arnold. "We've completed the receiver ramps for the test. As soon as your ship is ready to fire her cargo projectiles, we can receive them."
Connel's face showed the surprise he felt. "Why, Jim, that's the most amazing news I've ever heard!" he exclaimed. "How did you do it?"
"Through hard work," replied Arnold, "and the efforts of a young officer named Slick. He handled the whole thing."
"Slick!" exclaimed Connel. "I just bawled him out for wearing a dirty uniform."
"He's responsible for our success," asserted Arnold. "And what's more, those receivers can be taken apart and reassembled again in less than ten minutes."