Connel turned to Astro.
"And you're the home-grown atomic-rocket genius, Venusian style, eh?"
"Yes, sir," choked Astro. "I'm from Venus."
"Bucked rockets on the old chemical burners as a kid before entering the
Academy, eh?" asked Connel. There was less than an inch and a half
between Astro's face and Major Connel's jaw.
"Yes, sir," answered Astro, "I was an enlisted man before coming to the
Academy."
"Well, get this, you rocket buster," roared Connel. "I want a power deck
that will give me what I want, when I want it, or you'll be back in the
ranks again. Is that clear, Cadet Astro?"
"Yes, sir! Everything she's got, when you want it, sir."
"And I like to have a power deck clean enough to eat off the deck
plates!"
"Yes, sir," stuttered Astro, growing more and more confused. "You like
to eat off the deck plates, sir!"
"_By the craters of Luna, no!_ I don't like to eat off the deck plates,
_but I want them clean enough to eat there if I want to!_"
"Yes, sir!" Astro's voice was hardly above a whisper.
"And you're the tactical wizard that won the space maneuvers recently,
singlehanded, eh?" asked Connel, bending down to face Tom.
Pages:
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44