were few cadets who had escaped his scathing tongue when they had made a
mistake and practically the entire student body had, at one time or
another, singly and in unison, devoutly wished that a yawning hole would
open up and swallow them when he began one of his infamous tirades. Even
perfection in studies and execution by a cadet would receive a mere
grunt from the cantankerous professor. Such temperament was permissible
at the Academy by an instructor only because of his genius and for no
other reason. And Professor Sykes fitted the bill. It was by sheer
devotion to his work and single-mindedness of purpose that he was able
to become a leading scientist in his field. Professor Sykes had been
assigned, at his request, to the Roald expedition. As the leading
scientist, it was his job to evaluate every new discovery made during
the trip out to the distant satellite, and later make observations on
the colony itself. Scientifically, and in a sense ultimately, the
success or failure of the Roald expedition would rest on his round
hunched shoulders.

When the three cadets and Jeff Marshall entered the observatory, they
found Professor Sykes bending over a calculating machine checking some
figures. Apparently finding a mistake, he muttered to himself angrily
and started over again. Roger stepped forward.

"I can handle a calculator pretty well, sir," Roger said. "You want me
to do it for you?"

Sykes whirled around and glared at the blond-haired cadet. "What's your
name?" he snapped.

"Why--Cadet Manning, sir," replied Roger.