[Illustration]

"What's the idea of sending these brainless Space Cadets to me!
Assistants--bah! Can't you find something else for them to do?" bawled
Sykes. "Is my work considered so unimportant that I should be impeded by
these--these--" He sputtered and turned to wave at Tom, Roger, and Astro
who still stood at rigid attention.

Sykes got no further. Vidac simply cut off his teleceiver and left the
professor staring into a blank screen. His face became beet red, and he
screamed at Jeff Marshall. "Get them out of here! Put them to
work--scrubbing the decks, cleaning up the place, anything! But keep
them out of my way!" Then wagging a finger in Roger's face, he screamed
his last warning. "Don't ever speak to me again, unless I speak to you
_first!_"

Smarting under the continuous blast of anger from the professor, Roger
could no longer restrain himself. Slowly, with the calm deliberate
manner and slow casual drawl that characterized him at his sarcastic
best, the cadet stepped forward. He saluted, and with his face a bare
six inches from Sykes, said evenly, "To speak to you, sir, under any
conditions, sir, would be such a stroke of bad luck, sir, that I
wouldn't wish it on the last spaceman in the world, sir." With another
curt salute he wheeled smartly and walked out of the room.

Flabbergasted, Professor Sykes could manage no more than a hoarse
bubbling sound and he finally turned to Jeff Marshall, waving his arms
violently. "Get them out of here--get them out of here. Get them out!"