“One of these days I’m going to tell those guys what they can do with their old job, especially that little worm, Mugger!” Johnny complained. “I’m tired of all this backbreaking stuff and his fussing at us all the time!”
“I think we’re all tired of it, Johnny,” Rock sympathized.
Johnny was one of seven of them who had accepted work on the servicing station after their washout from school. Since they knew they could never go into space in the smart livery of the Space Command, this seemed to be the next best thing. But the boys had soon tired of the glamour of being out in the deeps and the hard work, and most of them were ready to go meekly back home to Earth.
“Maybe before long,” Rock told his discouraged friend, “all of us will be able to tell the big boys where to head in.”
“What do you mean?” Johnny asked.
“Come along and see,” Shep invited.
Johnny made a wry face. “I’m not in the mood to see anything now. It’s the sack for me and ten solid hours of sleep!”
Rock and Shep looked for Kalmus’ room on Deck B. As they passed a long corridor port, they saw the busy outside activity of the servicing station. They saw big clumsy-looking astroliners and streamlined, needle-prowed “atmosphere” ships approaching and leaving the docks of the octagon satellite after repairs or refueling. Smaller ferry craft darted back and forth between the vessels like pilot fish in the company of great sharks.
The boys located Kalmus’ room and found him waiting for them as though he had known they would be along. There was another man present. He looked like a walking skeleton, with thick black brows and hands like hairy tarantulas. Kalmus said his name was Jack Judas and that he was a close friend.
“My scraps match your photostat, Mr. Kalmus,” Rock said. “What is your proposition?”