Strong hesitated, trying to word his reply. In these weeks that had followed Tom's fight with Roger in the gym, there had been no further incidents of open warfare. Roger's attitude, once openly defiant, had now subsided into a stream of never-ending sarcasm. The sting had been taken out of his attack and he seemed satisfied merely to annoy. Astro had withdrawn into a shell, refusing to allow Roger to bother him and only an occasional rumble of anger indicated his true feelings toward his troublesome unit-mate. Tom maintained his role of peacemaker and daily, in many ways, showed his capacity for leadership by steering his unit-mates away from any storm-provoking activities.
Strong finally broke the silence. "It's difficult to answer that question with facts, Commander Walters."
"Why?" insisted Walters.
"Well, nothing's really happened," answered Steve.
"You mean, nothing since the fight in the gym?"
"Oh--" Strong flushed. "You know about that?"
Commander Walters smiled. "Black eyes and faces that looked like raw beef don't go unnoticed, Steve."
"Uhh--no, sir," was Strong's lame reply.
"What I want to know is," pursued Walters, "did the fight prove anything? Did the boys get it out of their systems and are they concentrating on becoming a unit?"
"Right now, Commander, they're concentrating on passing their manuals.
They realize that they have to work together to get through this series of tests. Why, Dr. Dale told me the other day that she's sure Tom's been giving Roger a few pointers on control-deck operation. And one night I found Manning giving Astro a lecture in compression ratios. Of course, Manning's way of talking is a way that would confuse the Venusian more than it would help him, but at least they weren't snarling at each other."
"Hmm," Walters nodded. "Sounds hopeful, but still not conclusive. After all, they have to help each other in the manuals. If one member of the unit fails, it will reflect on the marks of the other two and they might be washed out too. Even the deadliest enemies will unite to save their lives."
"Perhaps, sir," replied Strong. "But we're not dealing with deadly enemies now. These are three boys, with three distinct personalities who've been lumped together in strange surroundings. It takes time and patience to make a team that will last for years."
"You may have the patience, Steve, but the Academy hasn't the time."
Commander Walters was suddenly curt. "When does Unit 42-D take its manuals?"
"This afternoon, sir," replied Strong. "I'm on my way over to the examination hall right now."
"Very well. I won't take any action yet. I'll wait for the results of the tests. Perhaps they will solve both our problems. See you later, Steve." Turning abruptly, Commander Walters stepped off the slidewalk onto the steps of the Administration Building and rapidly disappeared from view.
Left alone, Strong pondered the commander's parting statement. The implication was clear. If the unit failed to make a grade high enough to warrant the trouble it took keeping it together, it would be broken up.
Or even worse, one or more of the boys would be dismissed from the Academy.
A few minutes later Strong arrived in the examination hall, a large, barren room with a small door in each of the three walls other than the one containing the entrance. Tom Corbett was waiting in the center of the hall and saluted smartly as Strong approached.
"Cadet Corbett reporting for manual examination, sir!"
"Stand easy, Corbett," replied Strong, returning the salute. "This is going to be a rough one. Are you fully prepared?"
"I believe so, sir." Tom's voice wasn't too steady.
A fleeting smile passed over Strong's lips, then he continued. "You'll take the control-deck examination first. Manning will be next on the radar bridge and Astro last on the power deck."
"They'll be here according to schedule, sir."
"Very well. Follow me."
Strong walked quickly to the small door in the left wall, Tom staying a respectful step behind. When they reached the door, the officer pressed a button in the wall beside it and the door slid open.
"All right, Corbett. Inside." Strong nodded toward the interior of the room.
The boy stepped in quickly, then stopped in amazement. All around him was a maze of instruments and controls. And in the center, twin pilot's chairs.
"Captain Strong!" Tom was so surprised that he could hardly get the words out. "It's--it's a real control deck!"
Strong smiled. "As real as we can make it, Corbett, without allowing the building to blast off." He gestured toward the pilot's chairs. "Take your place and strap in."
"Yes, sir." His eyes still wide with wonder, Tom stepped over to the indicated chair and Strong followed him, leaning casually against the other.
He watched the young cadet nervously adjust his seat strap and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Nervous, Corbett?"
"Yes, sir--just a little," replied Tom.
"Don't worry," said Strong. "You should have seen the way I came into this room fifteen years ago. My cadet officer had to help me into the control pilot's seat."
Tom managed a fleeting smile.
"Now, Corbett"--Strong's voice became businesslike--"as you know, these manual tests are the last tests before actually blasting off. In the past weeks, you cadets have been subjected to every possible examination, to discover any flaw in your work that might later crop up in space. This manual operations test of the control board, like Manning's on the radar bridge and Astro's on the power deck, is designed to test you under simulated space conditions. If you pass this test, your next step is real space."
"Yes, sir."
"I warn you, it isn't easy. And if you fail, you personally will wash out, and if other members of the unit do not get a high enough mark to average out to a passing grade for all of you, you fail as a unit."
"I understand, sir," said Tom.
"All right, then we'll begin. Your crew is aboard, the air lock is closed. What is the first thing you do?"
"Adjust the air circulating system to ensure standard Earth conditions."
"How do you do that?"
"By pressing this button which will activate the servo units. They automatically keep the circulating pumps in operation, based on thermostatic readings from the main gauge." Tom pointed to a black clock face, with a luminous white hand and numbers.
"All right, carry on," said Strong.
Tom reached over the huge control board that extended around him for some two feet on three sides. He placed a nervous finger on a small button, waited for the gauge below to register with a swing of the hand, and then released it. "All pressures steady, sir."
"What next?"
"Check the crew, sir--all departments--" replied Tom.
"Carry on," said Strong.
Tom reached out and pulled a microphone toward him.
"All hands! Station check!" said Tom, and then was startled to hear a metallic voice answer him.
"Power deck, ready for blast-off!" And then another voice: "Radar deck, ready for blast-off!"