Stand by for Mars! - Carey Rockwell (reading in the dark txt) 📗

sent the ball from a dead standstill, fifty yards over the Capella goal before any of the remaining players were within five feet of it, and the score was tied.

The crowd sprang to its feet again and roared his name.

“That was terrific!” said Astro, slapping Tom on the back as they lined up again. “It looked as though you hardly kicked that ball at all.”

“Yeah,” muttered Roger, “you really made yourself the grandstand’s delight!”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Manning?” asked Astro.

“Superman Corbett probably burned himself out! Let’s see him keep up that speed for the next ten minutes!”

The whistle blew for the next goal, and again the three boys moved forward to meet the onrushing Capella unit.

Richards blocked Astro with a twist of his body, and without stopping his forward motion, kicked the ball squarely toward the goal. It stopped ten feet short, took a dizzying spin and rolled away from the goal line. In a flash, the six boys were around the ball, blocking, shoving, and yelling instructions to each other while at the same time kicking at the unsteady ball. With each grazing kick, the ball went into even more maddening spins and gyrations.

At last Richards caught it with the side of his foot, flipped it to McAvoy who dropped back, and with twenty feet between him and the nearest Polaris member, calmly booted it over the goal. The whistle blew ending the first period, and the Capella unit led two to one.

During the next three periods, the Capella unit worked like a well-oiled machine. Richards passed to Davison or McAvoy, and when they were too well guarded, played brilliantly alone. The Polaris unit, on the other hand, appeared to be hopelessly outclassed. Tom and Astro fought like demons but Roger’s lack of interest gave the Capella unit the edge in play. At the end of the fourth period, the Capella team led by three points, seven to four.

While the boys rested before the fifth and final period, Captain Strong, having watched the play with keen interest, realized that Roger was not playing up to his fullest capabilities. Suddenly he summoned a near-by Earthworm cadet, scribbled a message on a slip of paper and instructed the cadet to take it directly to Roger.

“Orders from the coach on the side lines?” asked Wolcheck as he noticed Strong’s action.

“You might call it that, Charlie,” answered Steve blandly.

On the field, the cadet messenger handed Roger the slip of paper, not mentioning that it was from Strong, and hurried back to the stands.

“Getting fan mail already?” asked Astro.

Roger ignored the comment and opened the slip of paper to read:

“… It might interest you to know that the winning team of the mercuryball finals is to be awarded a first prize of three days’ liberty in Atom City.⁠ ⁠…” There was no signature.

Roger stared up into the stands and searched vainly for some indication of the person who might have sent him the note. The crowd hushed as McKenny stepped forward for the starting of the last period.

“What was in the note, Roger?” asked Tom.

“The winning combination,” smiled Roger lazily. “Get set for the fastest game of mercuryball you’ve ever played, Corbett! We’ve got to pull this mess out of the fire!”

Bewildered, Tom looked at Astro who merely shrugged his shoulders and took his place ready for the whistle. Roger tucked the note into his shorts and stepped up to the line.

“Listen, Corbett,” said Roger, “every time Richards gets the ball, he kicks it to his left, and then McAvoy feints as if to get it, leaving Davison in the open. When you go to block Davison, you leave Richards in the clear. He just keeps the ball. He’s scored three times that way!”

“Yeah,” said Tom, “I noticed that, but there was nothing I could do about it, the way you’ve been playing.”

“Kinda late in the game for any new ideas, Manning,” growled Astro. “Just get the ball and pass it to me.”

“That’s my whole idea! Play back, Astro. Move like you’re very tired, see? Then they’ll forget about you and play three on two. You just be ready to kick and kick hard!”

“What’s happened to you, Roger?” asked Tom. “What was in that note?”

Before Roger could answer, the whistle and the roar from the crowd signaled the beginning of the last period. The cadets raced down the field, Roger swerving to the left and making a feint at blocking Richards. He missed intentionally and allowed Richards to get the ball, who immediately passed to the left. McAvoy raced in on the ball, Tom made a move as if to block him, reversed, and startled the onrushing Richards with a perfect block. The ball was in the clear. Roger gave it a half kick and the ball landed two feet in front of Astro. The big cadet caught it perfectly on the first bounce and kicked it on a line across the goal, seventy yards away.

Up in the stands, Steve Strong smiled as he watched the score change on the board: “Capella seven⁠—Polaris five!”

In rapid succession, the Polaris unit succeeded in intercepting the play of the Capella unit and rolling up two goals to an even score. Now, there were only fifty-five seconds left to play.

The cadets in the stands roared their approval of the gallant effort made by the three members of the Polaris crew. It had been a long time since mercuryball had been played with such deadly accuracy at Space Academy and everyone who attended the game was to remember for years to come the last play of the game.

McKenny blew the whistle again and the boys charged forward, but by now, aware of the sudden flash of unity on the part of the opposing team, the Capella unit fought desperately to salvage at least a tie.

Tom managed to block a kick by Richards, and the ball took a dizzy hop to the left, landing in front of