They hurried aboard the _Polaris_ and
into the control room. Major Connel was seated in a chair near the chart
screen, studying some papers. The cadets drew themselves to attention.
"Unit reporting for duty, sir," Tom quavered.
Connel spun around in the swivel chair, glanced at the clock, put the
papers to one side, and slowly advanced toward the cadets.
"Thirteen and a half minutes late!" he said, dropping his voice to a
biting growl. "I'll give you five seconds to think up a good excuse.
Every man is entitled to an excuse. Some have good ones, some have
truthful ones, and some have excuses that sound as though they made them
up in five seconds!"
He eyed the cadets speculatively. "Well?" he demanded.
"I'm afraid we were carried away by our enthusiasm for a meal Astro
introduced us to, sir," said Tom honestly.
"All right," snapped Connel, "then here's something else to carry you
all away!" He paused and rocked on the balls of his feet. "I had planned
to give you three liberty of the station while here, whenever you
weren't working on the new transmitter. But since you have shown
yourselves to be carried away so easily, I don't think I can depend on
your completing your regular duties.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62