They nodded silently in greeting. It would be over soon. Strong
glanced at the clock over the desk. Another ten minutes to go.
The line of boys at the slots grew until more than twenty stood there,
each waiting patiently, nervously, for his turn to drop the tube in the
slot and receive in return the sealed cylinder that held his fate.
Still at his desk, his face wet with sweat, Astro looked at the question
in front of him for the fifteenth time.
" ... Estimate the time it would take a 300-ton rocket ship with
half-filled tanks, cruising at the most economical speed to make a trip
from Titan to Venusport. (a) Estimate size and maximum capacity of fuel
tanks. (b) Give estimate of speed ship would utilize...."
He thought. He slumped in his chair. He stared at the ceiling. He chewed
his pencil....
Five seats away, Tom stacked his examination sheets neatly, twisted them
into a cylinder and inserted them in the tube. As he passed the line of
desks and headed for the slot, a hand caught his arm. Tom turned to see
Roger Manning grinning at him.
"Worried, spaceboy?" asked Roger easily. Tom didn't answer. He simply
withdrew his arm.
"You know," said Roger, "you're really a nice kid. It's a shame you
won't make it. But the rules specifically say 'no cabbageheads.'"
"No talking!" Dr. Dale called sharply from her desk.
Tom walked away and stood in the line at the slots.
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