The Revolt on Venus by Carey Rockwell (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📕

of Venusport, as well as other Venusian cities, momentarily. Follow established routine for such an occurrence. Obey officers and enlisted men of the Solar Guard who are here on Venus to protect you and your property. That is all!"

In the living room of Sinclair's house Tom waited impatiently for the sound of Sinclair's yacht taking off before attempting to free himself from the rope on his wrists. But when a half-hour had passed with no sound from outside, he decided not to waste any more time.

Relaxing completely, the curly-haired cadet began working his wrists back and forth in the loop of rope. It was slow, painful work, and in no time the skin was rubbed raw. George and Mrs. Hill watched him, wide-eyed. They saw the skin of his wrists gradually turn pink, then red, as the cadet pulled and pushed at the rope. A half-hour had passed before he felt the rope slipping down over the widest part of his hand. Slowly, so as not to lose the precious advantage, he pulled with all his strength, unmindful of the pain. He heard a sharp gasp from Mrs. Hill and then felt the rope become damp. His wrists were bleeding. But at the same time he felt the rope slipping over his hands. He gave a quick tug and the rope slipped off and dropped to the floor, a bloody tangle. He spun around and untied the foreman and his wife quickly, removing the gags from their mouths gently.

"Your wrists!" cried Mrs. Hill.

"Don't worry about them, ma'am," said Tom. He looked at Hill. "How long have you been tied up?"

"Just about an hour before you came," answered the foreman. "I found Sinclair in front of a teleceiver in his room. It's in a secret panel and I didn't know it was there. I waited and heard him talking to someone in Venusian. But he spotted me and pulled a ray gun."

"Do you know where he's gone?" asked Tom.

"No, but I sure wish I did!" said the burly foreman stoutly. "I have something to settle with him."

"That'll have to wait until the Solar Guard is finished with him. Come on!" Tom started toward the door.

"Where are we going?" asked Hill.

"To the Polaris! I've got to warn the Solar Guard of their plans. They're going to attack the Venusport garrison and take over Venus!"

"By the stars!" gasped Mrs. Hill. "Here I've been feeding that man all these years and didn't know I was contributing to a revolution!"

Tom was out of the door and running toward the Polaris before she had finished talking. George followed right behind him.

As the cadet raced across the dark clearing one hope filled his mind—that the Polaris would be in the same condition in which they had left it.

The port was still open where Sinclair had caught him and he climbed inside the giant ship quickly. As soon as he entered, he snapped on the emergency lights and searched the ship carefully. After examining every compartment, and satisfied that there was no one aboard, he made his way back to the radar bridge. There, he saw immediately why Sinclair had felt free to leave the ship. All radar and communications equipment had been completely smashed.

The young cadet returned to the control deck and called down to George Hill, waiting in the air lock. "George! Get Mrs. Hill aboard quickly. We're blasting off!"

"Blasting off?" the foreman called back. "But I thought you were going to contact Venusport!"

"I can't," replied Tom. "Sinclair has smashed the communications and the radar. We'll have to take our information to Venusport in person. I only hope he's left the rockets and atomic motors alone."

"How about using the teleceiver in the house?" asked the foreman, climbing up to the control deck.

"Can't take a chance," said Tom. "This is top secret. They might have the teleceiver tapped."

"Do you know how to handle this ship alone?" asked George, glancing around at the great control board. "I don't know anything about a ship this size."

"I can handle it," said Tom. "Get Mrs. Hill aboard!"

"Here I am, Tommy," said Mrs. Hill, climbing up into the control deck. "I have some bandages and salve for your wrists."

"There's no time, Mrs. Hill," said Tom. "We've got to—"

"Nonsense!" she interrupted firmly. "You just give me your hands. It'll take only a minute!"

Tom reluctantly held out his wrists and Mrs. Hill expertly applied the salve and bandaged the cadet's raw wrists. Admittedly feeling better, Tom turned to the master switch and found it missing. For a second panic seized him, until he remembered that Major Connel had hidden it. He felt under the pilot's chair and breathed easier, pulling out the vital instrument.

"Better get into acceleration chairs," said Tom, strapping himself into his seat. "This might be a rough take-off."

"Watch yourself, Tom," cautioned George. "We aren't afraid for ourselves, but you've got to get to Venusport!"

"If he's left the power deck alone, everything will be O.K."

The young cadet stretched out a trembling hand and switched on the automatic firing control. Then, crossing his fingers, he flipped on the main generator and breathed easier as the steady hum surged through the ship. He thought briefly of Astro and Roger, wishing his two unit mates were at their stations, and then switched on the power feed to the energizing pumps. There was a second's wait as the pressure began to build, and he watched the indicator over his head on the control panel carefully. When it had reached the proper level, he switched in the reactant feed, giving it full D-12 rate. He glanced at the astral chronometer over his head automatically and noted the time.

"Stand by!" he called. "Blast off minus five—four—three—two—one—zero!"

He threw the master switch and a roaring burst of power poured into the main tubes. The ship bucked slightly, raised itself from the ground slowly, and then suddenly shot upward. In less than a minute the Polaris had cleared atmosphere and Tom turned on the artificial-gravity generators. He made a quick computation on the planetary calculator, fired the port steering rockets, and sent the ship in a long arching course for Venusport. Then, unstrapping himself, he turned to see how Mr. and Mrs. Hill had taken the blast-off.

The foreman and his wife were shaking their heads, still in acceleration shock, and Tom helped them out of their cushions.

"Oh, my! Do you boys have to go through this all the time?" Mrs. Hill asked. "It's a wonder to me how a human body can take it."

"I feel pretty much the same way," muttered George.

"A cup of hot tea will fix you up fine," Tom reassured them, and leaving the ship on automatic control, he went into the small galley off the control deck and brewed three cups of tea. In a few moments the elderly couple felt better, and Tom told them of the Nationalists' base and Connel's plan to wreck the radar station at noon the next day. Both Mr. and Mrs. Hill were shocked at the scope of the Nationalists' plan.

"Well, they bit off more than they could chew when they decided to buck the Solar Guard," asserted Tom. "When Commander Walters gets finished with them, Sinclair and the rest won't have anything left but memories!"

"Tell me something, Tom," said George, looking at the control panel thoughtfully. "Have you figured out how you're going to land this ship alone and with no radar?"

"I'll have to use the seat of my pants." Tom smiled, and turned back to his seat. George and his wife looked at each other and quickly strapped themselves into their acceleration cushions.

A few moments later Tom began braking the ship with the nose rockets. It made a slow-climbing arc over the spaceport and then settled slowly, tailfirst. The stern teleceiver was out of order, and the young cadet had to rely entirely on "feel," to get the Polaris in safely. He had calculated his rate of fall, the gravity of Venus, and the power of the rockets, and was dropping at a predetermined rate. At the critical point he increased power on the drive rockets, continuing to fall slowly until he felt the jarring bump of the directional fins touching the ground.

"Touchdown!" he roared triumphantly.

He closed the master switch and turned to look at the smiling faces of Mr. and Mrs. Hill.

"That was fine, Tom," said George, "but I don't want to do it again."

"Don't be a scaredy cat, George Hill!" taunted Mrs. Hill. "Tom handles this ship as if he were born on it."

Tom grinned. "We'd better hurry up. There must be something going on. There aren't any lights on here at the spaceport and all the administration buildings are dark."

He hurried to the air lock and swung it open, jumping lightly to the ground.

"Halt!" growled a rough voice. "Get your hands in the air and stay right where you are!"

Puzzled, Tom did as he was told, announcing, "I'm Space Cadet Tom Corbett, Polaris unit. I request immediate transportation to Commander Walters. I have important information for him."

He was momentarily blinded by the glare of a ring of lights around him, and when he finally could see, he found himself in the middle of a squad of Solar Guardsmen in battle dress.

"What's the password?" asked a tough sergeant whose shock rifle was aimed right at Tom's midsection.

"Juggernaut!" replied Tom quietly.

The word sent the sergeant into a frenzy of action. "Peters, Smith, get the jet car around here!"

"What's up, Sergeant?" asked Tom. "Why is everything so dark?"

"Martial law!" replied the guardsman. "Curfew from ten until six."

"Whew!" gasped Tom. "It looks as if I just made it!"

As George and Mrs. Hill climbed out of the air lock, a jet car raced up and skidded to a stop in front of them. A moment later Tom and the couple, accompanied by two of the guardsmen, were speeding through the dark and empty streets of Venusport. The car was stopped once at a mid-town check point, and Tom had to repeat the password. They picked up another jet car, full of guardsmen as escorts, and with the echo of the exhausts roaring in the empty avenues, they sped to central Solar Guard headquarters.

Tom had never seen so many enlisted guardsmen in one spot before except on a parade ground. And he noted with a tinge of excitement that each man was in battle dress. Arriving at headquarters, they were whisked to the top floor of the building and ushered into Commander Walters' office. The commander smiled broadly as the young cadet stepped to the front of his desk and saluted smartly.

"Cadet Corbett reporting, sir," he said.

In a moment the office was filled with men; E. Philips James, the Solar Delegate, Captain Strong, fleet commanders, and officers of the line.

"Make your report, Cadet Corbett," said Walters.

Tom spoke quickly and precisely, giving full details on the location of the base, the approximate number of fighting ships, the armament of each, the location of supply dumps, and finally of Major Connel's plan to sabotage the radar at noon the following day. Then, one by one, each official asked him questions pertinent to their tasks. Fleet commanders asked about the ships' speed, size, armor; Strong inquired about the stores and supporting lines of supply; Walters asked for the names of all people connected with the movement. All of these questions Tom answered as well as he could.

"Well, gentlemen," said Walters, "thanks to Corbett and the others on this mission, we have all the information we need to counter the Nationalists. I propose to follow Major Connel's plan and attack the base at noon tomorrow. Squadrons A and B will approach from the south and east at exactly noon. Squadrons C, D, and E will come in from the north and west as a second wave at 1202. The rest of the fleet will go in from