"Aye, aye, Captain Strong," replied a handsome curly-haired Space Cadet.
He turned to the ship's intercom and spoke quickly into the microphone.
"Control deck to power deck. Check in!"
"Power deck, aye," a bull-throated voice bellowed over the loud-speaker.
"Stand by rockets, Astro! We're coming in for a landing."
"Standing by!"
The Solar Guard officer turned away from the telescanner and glanced
quickly over the illuminated banks of indicators on the control panel.
"Is our orbit to Space Academy clear?" he asked the cadet. "Have we been
assigned a landing ramp?"
"I'll check topside, sir," answered the cadet, turning back to the
intercom. "Control deck to radar deck. Check in!"
"Radar bridge, aye," drawled a lazy voice over the speaker.
"Are we cleared for landing, Roger?"
"Everything clear as glass ahead, Tom," was the calm reply.
"We're steady on orbit and we touch down on ramp seven. Then"--the voice
began to quicken with excitement--"three weeks' liberty coming up!"
The rumbling voice of the power-deck cadet suddenly broke in over the
intercom. "Lay off that space gas, Manning.
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