"Right, thanks." Strong turned to the intercom mike, calling, "Captain Strong to control tower, check in."
"Say, I'd like to see this fellow blast," said Tom. "He's supposed to be one of the hottest pilots ever to hit space."
"Yeah," agreed Roger. "He's so good I don't see how anyone else could have a chance."
"With that hot rocket in this race," said Astro, "the others will have to fight for second and third place."
"Control tower to Strong," a voice crackled over the intercom loud-speaker. "Ready here, sir."
"Right. Stand by for the next flight, Mac," replied Strong. "It's Sticoon."
Strong flipped a switch on the intercom to direct contact with the waiting ship and gave Sticoon the oft-repeated final briefing, concluding, "Do not go beyond the necessary limitations of fuel consumption that are provided for in the Solar Guard space code. If you return here with less than a quarter supply of reactant fuel, you will be disqualified. Stand by to blast off!"
"Uh-huh!" was all the acknowledgment Strong received from the Martian. Famed for his daring, Sticoon was also known for his taciturn personality.
"Clear ramp! Clear ramp!" Strong boomed over the public-address system. When he received the all-clear from the enlisted spaceman on the ramp, Strong flipped both the public-address system and the intercom on. "Stand by to raise ship!"
He glanced at the astral chronometer. "Blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one—zero!"