"
[Illustration]
CHAPTER 7
"Space freighter _Antares_ from Venus space station. Your approach
course is one-nine-seven--corrected. Reduce speed to minimum thrust and
approach spaceport nine--landing-deck three. End transmission!"
Tom stood on the dais of the traffic-control room and switched the
_Antares_ beam to one of his assistants at the monitors in the control
room. In less than two weeks he had mastered the difficult
traffic-control procedure to the point where Captain Stefens had allowed
him to handle the midnight shift. He checked the monitors and turned to
see Roger walk through the door.
"Working hard, Junior?" asked Roger in his casual drawl.
"Roger!" exclaimed Tom. "What are you fooling around down here for?"
"Ah, there's nothing to do on the radar deck. Besides, I've got the
emergency alarm on." He wiped his forehead. "Brother! Of all the crummy
places to be stuck!"
"Could be worse," said Tom, his eyes sweeping the monitors.
"Nothing could be worse," groaned Roger. "But nothing. Think of that
lovely space doll Helen Ashton alone on earth--and me stuck here on a
space station.
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