In twenty minutes the space-dust collector had been installed on the ship’s outside landing platform for auxiliary craft and connected through a power jack.
The collector itself was a large empty tank with ionizing rays and electrodes for collecting the cosmic particles.
Tom, Bud, and a small crew took their places aboard and Tom fed power to the repelatrons. The Challenger soared skyward. The earth fell away into a tapestried globe. Presently the Swifts’ glistening sky-wheel space outpost could be seen floating in the blue-black void.
At 5,000 miles altitude, Tom switched on the space-dust collector and set the controls for an orbital course. Suddenly the ship lurched sharply. The acceleration meter went wild-showing a tremendous negative acceleration.
“We’re plunging toward earth!” Bud cried out.
CHAPTER IV
“A REPELATRON must have gone haywire!” Tom exclaimed. He switched to manual control and began guiding the ship back into orbit.
The boys were in pilot’s and copilot’s seats, rather than strapped to cots, since the Challenger’s normally smooth, constant acceleration produced no G-shock.
Tom frowned as he glanced at the thrust and astrogation dials. Then he flicked on the space-position-finder screen. As colored dots glowed on the screen, showing the position of various heavenly objects, Tom grinned and pointed to one object. “There’s the answer, Bud.”
Bud looked puzzled. “Hey, that’s a new one!”
“It’s our friend, the Green Orb,” Tom explained. “Our steering computer must have aimed one of the repelatron beams at it-and somehow there was no force resultant from the tack. The
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