Tom could only shake his head. “It’s a mystery to me, Chow, unless our enemy’s killing their radio signal with some kind of wave action.”
This thought brought a glimmer of hope to the other astronauts. But Tom remained secretly fearful. Even if his theory were right, it would still not explain the outpost’s call for help.
Tensely Tom’s group raced onward in the Cosmic Sailer. As it drew nearer to the outpost’s orbit, the radarman sang out, “We’re right on course. I’ve picked it up on the scope, dead ahead!”
“Give ‘em another try on the radio, Bud,” Tom directed.
168
IN LI CHING’S CLUTCHES 169
“Cosmic Sailer to Outpost! Come in, please! … Sailer to Outpost! Can you read me?”
Again no response.
Presently the silver space wheel became visible through the cabin view port.
Larger and larger it loomed in the starry blackness.
A radar probe showed no rocket ships in the area, and none was moored at the station’s entry port. Tom breathed an inward sigh of relief. At least there was no sign of enemy attack!
“Stand by for mooring,” Tom told his crew.
Unlike the regular Swift rockets, the Sailer was not designed to fit the coupling device on the entry port. Tom therefore had to maneuver into mooring position as best he could. His hand moved a switch, enclosing the ship in invisible lines of flux which bound it magnetically to the space wheel.
“Okay, men! Into your space suits!” he said.
One by one, they stepped out through the air lock and propelled themselves across the short intervening space to the wheel’s entry port. The hatch slid open promptly and they went inside.
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