"Vacation," said Strong. "Four weeks of fishing at Commander Walters' cabin at Sweet Water Lakes."
"If you pass through New Chicago," said Tom, "you would be welcome to stop in at my house. Mom and Dad would be mighty happy to meet you. And I think Billy, my kid brother, would flip a rocket."
"Thank you, Tom. I might do that if I have time." He looked at his watch. "You three had better hurry. I'd advise taking a jetcopter back to the Academy. You might not make it if you wait for a monorail."
"We'll do that, sir," said Tom.
The three boys threw their gear into the waiting cab and piled in. Strong watched them roar away, frowning in thought. An S.D. priority, the highest priority in space, was used only by special couriers on important missions for one of the delegates. He shrugged it off. "Getting to be as suspicious as an old space hen," he said to himself. "Fishing is what I need. A good fight with a trout instead of a space conspiracy!"
CHAPTER 3
"Blast off—minus—five—four—three—two—one—zero!"
As the main drive rockets blasted into life, Tom fell back in his seat before the control panel of the Polaris and felt the growing thrust as the giant ship lifted off the ground, accelerating rapidly. He kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen and saw Space Academy fall away behind them. On the power deck Astro lay strapped in his acceleration cushion, his outstretched hand on the emergency booster rocket switch should the main rockets fail before the ship could reach the free fall of space. On the radar bridge Roger watched the far-flung stars become brighter as the rocket ship hurtled through the dulling layers of the atmosphere.