Each cadet worked in his particular field, and all of
their information was assembled and co-ordinated by Major Connel. More
than once, Connel had found the clever minds of his cadets reaching for
answers to questions he knew would have troubled the professors back at
Space Academy. Connel, his eye on the clock, his sharp tongue lashing
out when he thought he detected unclear thinking, raced from one
department to another while the incessant work continued. On the morning
of the fourth day he walked into the radar bridge where Roger and Alfie
had been working steadily for seventy-two hours on an electronic fuse to
trigger the reactant units.
"There you are, skipper," said Roger. "The fuse is all yours. Delivered
twelve hours ahead of time!"
"Good work, Roger. You too, Alfie. Excellent!" said Connel, his eyes
appraising the fuse.
"Ah, that's nothing, skipper," said Roger with a smile. "Anyone could
have done it with Alfie here to help. He's got a brain like a
calculator!"
"Now, I want to see how smart you two really are!" said Connel.
"Huh?" asked Roger stupidly. Alfie had slumped to the deck, holding his
head in his hands.
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