With a tremendous burst of speed, Tom reached the
ball ahead of Schohari, and with the strength of desperation, he slammed
his foot against it. The whistle blew ending the game as the ball rose
in an arc down the field and fell short of the goal by ten feet. There
was a groan from the crowd.
But suddenly the ball, still reacting to the mercury inside, spun like
a top, rolled sideways, and as if it were being blown by a breeze,
rolled toward the goal line and stopped six inches inside the white
chalk line.
There was a moment's pause as the crowd and the players, stunned by the
play, grasped what had happened. Then swelling into a roar, there was
one word chanted over and over--"_Polaris--Polaris--Polaris_...."
The _Polaris_ unit had reached the finals of the Academy tournament.
* * * * *
During the intermission Charlie Wolcheck, unit commander of the
_Capella_ crew, walked over to the refreshment unit behind the
grandstand where Steve Strong, Dr. Dale and Commander Walters were
drinking Martian water and eating spaceburgers.
"Afternoon, Commander," saluted Wolcheck. "Hello, Joan, Steve. Looks as
though your boys on the _Polaris_ are going to meet their match this
afternoon. I've got to admit they're good, but with Tony Richards
feeding passes to Al Davison and with the blocking of Scott McAvoy--"
The young officer broke off with a grin.
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