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Rockwell, Carey, [pseud.]

"Stand by for Mars!"


"Never mind bringing anything up to Manning. I'll eat his share."
Astro had deliberately turned the intercom on so Roger on the radar deck
might hear. The response from that corner was immediate and emphatic.
"Listen, you rocket-headed grease monkey," yelled Roger. "If you so much
as smell that grub, I'll come down and feed you into the reactant
chamber!"
Tom smiled at Astro and turned to the ladder leading up from the power
deck. Passing through the control deck on the way to the radar bridge,
he glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes to eight.
"Only one thing I'm worried about, Corbett," said Roger through a
mouthful of sandwich.
"What's that?" asked Tom.
"Collision!" said Roger. "Some of these space-happy cadets might get
excited, and I for one don't want to wind up as a flash in Earth's
atmosphere!"
"Why, you have radar, to see anything that goes on."
"Oh, sure," said Roger, "I can keep this wagon outa their way, but will
they stay outa mine? Why my father told me once--" Roger choked on his
food and turned away to the radar screen.
"Well," said Tom after a moment, "what _did_ your father tell you?"
"Ah--nothing--not important. But I've got to get a cross-fix on Regulus
before we start our little games."
Tom looked puzzled. Here was another of Roger's quick changes of
attitude. What was it all about? But there was work to do, so Tom
shrugged his shoulders and returned to the control deck.


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