They were ahead of
time. One hour to complete two more units. Tom allowed himself a sigh of
hope and relief. They could still snatch the copper satellite from the
powerful pull of the sun.
Suddenly Tom heard a sound behind him and whirled around. His eyes
bulged in horror.
"Loring!" he gasped.
"Take your hand off that microphone, Corbett," snarled Loring, "or I'll
freeze you!"
"How--how did you get out?" Tom stammered.
"Your buddy, Manning," sneered Loring with a short laugh, "decided he
wanted to paste my ears back. So I let him. He was so anxious to make me
lose a few teeth that he didn't notice the spoon I kept!"
"Spoon?" asked Tom incredulously.
"Yeah," said Mason, stepping through the door, a paralo-ray gun leveled
at Tom. "A few teeth for a spoon. A good trade. We waited for your pals
to leave the ship, and then I short-circuited the electronic lock on the
brig."
Tom stared at the two men unbelievingly.
"All right, Corbett, get over there to that control board," growled
Loring, waving the paralo-ray gun at Tom. "We're going back to Tara."
"Tara?" exclaimed Tom. "But Major Connel and the
others--they're--they're down on the satellite.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226