"The six of us, working together, are going to send a hunk of copper
fifteen miles in diameter hurtling through twenty-three million million
miles of space, so let's get that ball rolling. _Right now!_"
With Major Connel roaring, pleading, and blasting, four young cadets and
a derelict spaceman began the monumental task of assembling the mass of
information necessary for the satellite's big push through space. During
the three days that their project had been under way, Tom, Roger,
Astro, Alfie, and Mr. Shinny worked, as Major Connel promised, as they
had never worked before.
Late in the afternoon of the third day Connel stepped through the hatch
of the control deck where Tom was busy over a table of ratios for
balancing the amount of thrust from each of the reactant-power units.
The power units were to give Junior its initial thrust out of the
gravity of Tara.
"Well, Corbett," asked Connel, "how're you making out with the ratios?"
"I've finished them, sir," replied Tom, looking up at the major. His
face was drawn, his eyes red from lack of sleep. "But I just can't seem
to get a time for escaping the orbit on a true tangent.
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