"Well, is there another ship for Venusport today?"
"Yes," she replied and picked up another manifest. Glancing at it quickly, she shook her head. "There are no open reservations," she said. "I'm afraid the next flight for Venusport with open reservations isn't for four days."
"Blast my jets!" growled Roger disgustedly. "Four days!" He sat down on his gear and scowled. Astro leaned against the desk and stared gloomily at the floor. At that moment a young man with a thin face and a strained intense look pushed Tom to one side with a curt "Excuse me!" and stepped up to the desk.
"You're holding three reservations on the Venus Lark," he spoke quickly. "Priority number four-seven-six, S.D."
Tom, Roger, and Astro looked at him closely. They saw him nervously pay for his tickets and then walk away quickly without another look at the ticket girl.
"Were those our seats, miss?" asked Tom. The girl nodded.
The three cadets stared after the young man who had bumped them off their ship.
"The symbol S.D. on the priority stands for Solar Delegate," said Roger. "Maybe he's a messenger."
The young man was joined by two other men also dressed in Venusian clothing, and after a few words, they all turned and stepped onto the slidewalk rolling out to the giant passenger ship preparing to blast off.
"This is the most rocket-blasting bit of luck in the universe!" growled Roger. "Four days!"