“Hey! Watch it, pardner!” Tom exclaimed.
“Huh? Oops!” Chow gave a start as the hot cocoa spilled off the table and ran down his trousers. “Brand my soup ladle, I’m gettin’ plumb careless!”
The portly Texan hastily mopped up the spilled cocoa, then turned back anxiously to Tom.
“What’s this about someone connivin’ to sick a cobra on you, boss?”
“Nothing to worry about, old-timer,” Tom reassured Chow with a chuckle.
“Reckon you’ve plugged plenty of sidewinders with your six-gun. I’ll just holler for help if I spot him.”
“Sure, jest you leave that snake to me,” Chow said in a worried and fatherly tone.
50 THE ASTEROID PIRATES
Tom grinned and gave the cook a pat on the shoulder, then hurried back to the launching area.
Two missiles had been readied for blast-off. One had been heavily instrumented to record data on the nature of the radiation barrier. The other was a stripped-down rocket carrying nothing but fuel and a radio guidance system.
With it, Tom intended to attempt to pierce the barrier.
The launching area blazed with floodlights. After a final check-out, Tom and Bud retired to the control blockhouse, where George Billing was standing by with the tracking crew.
“Clear the launch area!” Tom ordered over the public-address system. Then his voice began intoning the countdown.
“… X minus three … X minus two … X minus one … Blast-off!”
Tom’s finger stabbed the firing button of the instrumented probe missile. It lifted from its pad, belching smoke and flame, then speared upward into the darkness. The tracking crew followed the telemetered reports of its progress.
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