“Jeepers!” Sandy gasped. “Just looking at all those dials and control levers gives me a thrill.
SPACE OUTPOST 67
Tom, do you think I can learn to fly this ship?”
“Sure you can, Sis.” Torn grinned. “No work at all. Actually, the real work of flight control is done by electronic brains in the computer room.”
“I’m glad we don’t have to be strapped down on acceleration cots,” Phyl remarked. “That’s what scares me about rocket ships-the awful shock at blast-off.”
“On this ship you can relax in perfect ease,” Tom assured her. “The repelatron force rays apply a smooth flow of power so we can accelerate gradually, instead of in a few terrific bursts.”
A warning buzzer sounded, and everyone took his seat. The voice of George Billing, radio chief at Fearing, crackled over the speaker: “All clear, skipper. Have a good trip!”
“Thanks, George,” Tom replied. “Hold down the island!”
Outside, through the quartz-glass window, the ground crew chief gave the signal for takeoff. Tom switched on the repelatron circuits, and a number of colored lights flashed on the element selector panel above the view panes.
“Watch those lights, Sis,” Tom told Sandy. “They indicate the chemical make-up of the object we have to repel-in this case, the ground just below us. The repelatron circuits must respond to the exact radiation frequency of each element present.”
As he spoke, Tom’s hands flew busily over the controls. “What I’m doing now,” he added, “is a sort of fine-tuning job to make sure we’re adjusted 68 SPACE SOLARTRON