"On questions concerning the power-deck operations, he was letter perfect--"
"And on the others? Astrogation and control deck?"
"He just skimmed by. But even where the problem involved fuel, power, supply of energy, he offered some very practical answer to the problem."
She smiled. "Astro is as much an artist on that power deck as Liddy Tamal doing Juliet in the stereos."
"Yes," mused Strong. "And Corbett is the same on the control deck. Good instinctive intelligence. That boy soaks up knowledge like a sponge."
"Facile mind--quick to grasp the essentials." She smiled again. "Seems to me I remember a few years back when a young lieutenant successfully put down a mutiny in space, and at his promotion to captain, the citation included the fact that he was quick to grasp the essentials."
Strong grinned sheepishly. A routine flight to Titan had misfired into open rebellion by the crew. Using a trick picked up in ancient history books of sea-roving pirates in the seventeenth century, he had joined the mutiny, gained control of the ship, sought out the ring-leaders and restored discipline.
"And Manning," asked Strong. "What about Manning?"
"One of the hardest, brightest minds I've come across in the Academy. He has a brain like a steel trap. He never misses."
"Then, do you think he's acting up because Corbett is the nominal head of the unit? Does he feel that he should be the command cadet in the control deck instead of Corbett?"
"No," replied Dr. Dale. "Not at all. I'm sure he intentionally missed problems about control deck and command in his classification test. He concentrated on astrogation, communications and signal radar. He wanted to be assigned to the radar deck. And he turned in the best paper I've ever read from a cadet to get the post."
Strong threw up his hands. "Then what is it? Here we have a unit, on paper at least, that could be number one. A good combination of brains, experience and knowledge. Everything that's needed. And what is the result? Friction!"
Suddenly a buzzer sounded, and on Steve Strong's desk a small teleceiver screen glowed into life. Gradually the stern face of Commander Walters emerged.
"Sorry to disturb you, Steve. Can you spare me a minute?"
"Of course, Commander," replied Strong. "Is anything wrong?"
"Very wrong, Steve. I've been looking over the daily performance reports on Unit 42-D."
"Dr. Dale and I have just been discussing that situation, sir." A relieved expression passed over the commander's face.
"Good! I wanted to get your opinions before I broke up the unit."
"No, sir!" said Strong quickly. "Don't do that!"
"Oh?" replied the commander. On the screen he could be seen settling back in his chair.
"And why not?"
"Well, Joan--er--Dr. Dale and myself feel that the boys of Unit 42-D make it potentially the best in the Academy--if they stay together, sir."
Walters considered this for a moment and then asked thoughtfully, "Give me one good reason why the unit shouldn't be washed out."
"The academy needs boys like this, sir," Steve answered flatly. "Needs their intelligence, their experience. They may be a problem now, but if they're handled right, they'll turn out to be ace spacemen, they'll--"
The commander interrupted. "You're pretty sold on them, aren't you, Steve?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
"You know, tomorrow all the units will be assigned to their personal instructors."
"Yes, sir. And I've selected Lieutenant Wolcheck for this unit. He's tough and smart. I think he's just the man for the job."
"I don't agree, Steve. Wolcheck is a fine officer and with any other unit there'd be no question. But I think we have a better man for the job."
"Whom do you suggest, sir?"
The commander leaned forward in his chair.
"You, Steve."
"Me?"
"What do you think, Joan?"
"I wanted to make the same suggestion, Commander," smiled Joan. "But I didn't know if Steve really would want the assignment."
"Well, what about it, Steve?" asked the commander. "This is no reflection on your present work. But if you're so convinced that 42-D is worth the trouble, then take them over and mold them into spacemen.
Otherwise, I'll have to wash them out."
Strong hesitated a moment. "All right, sir. I'll do my best."
On the screen the stern lines in Commander Walters' face relaxed and he smiled approvingly.
"Thanks, Steve," he said softly. "I was hoping you'd say that. Keep me posted."
The screen blacked out abruptly and Captain Strong turned to Joan Dale, a troubled frown wrinkling his brow.
"Huh. I really walked into that one, didn't I?" he muttered.
"It isn't going to be easy, Steve," she replied.
"Easy!" He snorted and walked over to the window to stare blankly at the quadrangle below. "I'd almost rather try a landing on the hot side of Mercury. It would be icy compared to this situation!"
"You can do it, Steve. I know you can." Joan moved to his side to place a reassuring hand on his arm.
The Solar Guard officer didn't answer immediately. He kept on staring at the Academy grounds and buildings spread out before him. When he finally spoke, his voice rang with determination.
"I've got to do it, Joan. I've got to whip those boys into a unit. Not only for their sakes--but for the sake of the Academy!"
CHAPTER 4
The first three weeks of an Earthworm's life at Space Academy are filled with never-ending physical training and conditioning to meet the rigors of rocket flight and life on distant planets. And under the grueling pressure of fourteen-hour days, filled with backbreaking exercises and long forced marches, very few of the boys can find anything more desirable than sleep--and more sleep.