The
aluminum scaffolding was being hauled away by a jet truck. Again the
view changed as Strong twisted the dials in front of him.
"Just scanning the outside, boys," he commented. "Have to make sure
there isn't anyone near the ship when we blast off. The rocket exhaust
is powerful enough to blow a man two hundred feet, to say nothing of
burning him to death."
"You mean, sir--" began Tom, not daring to hope.
"Of course, Corbett," smiled Strong. "Take your stations for blast-off.
We raise ship as soon as we get orbital clearance from spaceport
control!"
Without waiting for further orders, the three boys scurried to their
stations.
Soon the muffled whine of the energizing pumps on the power deck began
to ring through the ship, along with the steady beep of the radar
scanner on the radar bridge. Tom checked the maze of gauges and dials on
the control board. Air locks, hatches, oxygen supply, circulating
system, circuits, and feeds. In five minutes the two-hundred-foot
shining steel hull was a living thing as her rocket motors purred,
warming up for the initial thrust.
Tom made a last sweeping check of the complicated board and turned to
Captain Strong who stood to one side watching.
"Ship ready to blast off, sir," he announced. "Shall I check stations
and proceed to raise ship?"
"Carry on, Cadet Corbett," Strong replied.
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