"Well, they bit off more than they could chew when they decided to buck the Solar Guard," asserted Tom. "When Commander Walters gets finished with them, Sinclair and the rest won't have anything left but memories!"
"Tell me something, Tom," said George, looking at the control panel thoughtfully. "Have you figured out how you're going to land this ship alone and with no radar?"
"I'll have to use the seat of my pants." Tom smiled, and turned back to his seat. George and his wife looked at each other and quickly strapped themselves into their acceleration cushions.
A few moments later Tom began braking the ship with the nose rockets. It made a slow-climbing arc over the spaceport and then settled slowly, tailfirst. The stern teleceiver was out of order, and the young cadet had to rely entirely on "feel," to get the Polaris in safely. He had calculated his rate of fall, the gravity of Venus, and the power of the rockets, and was dropping at a predetermined rate. At the critical point he increased power on the drive rockets, continuing to fall slowly until he felt the jarring bump of the directional fins touching the ground.
"Touchdown!" he roared triumphantly.
He closed the master switch and turned to look at the smiling faces of Mr. and Mrs. Hill.
"That was fine, Tom," said George, "but I don't want to do it again."
"Don't be a scaredy cat, George Hill!" taunted Mrs. Hill. "Tom handles this ship as if he were born on it."
Tom grinned. "We'd better hurry up. There must be something going on. There aren't any lights on here at the spaceport and all the administration buildings are dark."