CHAPTER 8
"All clear ahead, Bill!"
Tom Corbett stood at the radarscope and watched the thin white line sweep around the face of the instrument. "Nothing in space but us!" he announced.
The veteran spaceman grunted and grinned at the curly-haired cadet he had grown to like and respect in the short time they had been together. Not only did Tom know how to handle a ship, spelling the pilot for a few moments to have a walk around the control deck, but he was good company as well. More than once, Tom had surprised the Martian spaceman with his sober judgment of the minor decisions Sticoon had to make in flight.
"Why don't you try to contact Manning again, Tom?" Sticoon suggested. "He might be awake now."
Tom grinned, but in his heart he did not think it very funny. It was no joke that Captain Strong had called him to contact Roger. And Tom was worried. So far, he had not been able to reach the blond-haired cadet. He settled himself in front of the communicator and began calling the black ship again.
"Rocket ship Space Lance to rocket ship Space Knight! Come in!"
He waited. Nothing but static and silence greeted him.
"Space Knight, come in!"
He waited again as the sleek white ship plummeted deeper into space toward the first refueling stop on Deimos, one of the small twin moons of Mars. Still there was no acknowledging reply from the black ship that had streaked ahead of them after the blast-off.