[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

"Ship's company, attenshun!"
Justin came to his feet with the others and stood at rigid attention as
Thorsson stepped down from the podium to stand with the faculty. Minutes
later, to the barked commands of the upperclassmen, Justin filed out of the
assembly hall and double-timed down the long corridors towards the first-year
plebe barracks. He thought he knew the ship but was soon completely lost as
they were led to a distant section that had been off limits during the summer
session.
Sector F-7, Deck Nine, with .41 gravity. For Justin the gravity felt decidedly
pleasant, but he could see more than one of the offworlders, especially those
who had lived on the Moon or in zero-gravity environments, huffing a bit under
the strain.
At last he started to recognize some of the side corridors, having passed
through them briefly earlier in the day to drop off his gear. Turning into
Corridor T, he and Matt came to the door of their room and, stopping on either
side, the two snapped to attention.
Several minutes passed before Brian Seay appeared and stopped at the end of
the corridor.
The last of the cadets came racing past, looking nervously over at Brian as
they stumbled into place by their rooms. Justin brightened as he saw Pradeep,
Page 15
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
their third roommate from the summer, fall into place beside them. Finally a
cadet he vaguely recognized as having been with another company during scrub
summer came and joined them. Justin gave him a sidelong glance. The cadet was
tall and thin, with pale blue eyes and a look he found disquieting. It was a
vague, undefinable something, a certain way of walking, an air of superior
disdain, as if he were already a senior cadet forced to associate with mere
plebes. The cadet gave Justin a sidelong glance, not friendly, but not
hostile, either.
"All right, plebes, listen up and listen good."
Brian now started to walk slowly down the corridor.
"You are now Company A, Second Battalion, first-year plebes. Heaven knows how
you made it this far just looking at you makes me want to get sick, turn in my
stripes and jump ship with the first ore carrier heading out."
Brian started into his harangue about how disgusting, miserable, nauseating,
and generally unpleasant they all were. In the distance Justin could hear
echoes from other corridors, as company commanders from other units launched
into similar tirades. At the beginning of the summer it had left him shaking
and darn near in tears more than once; as Brian stopped in front of him, he
felt a bit of the gut churn, and braced himself.
Brian fixed him with an icy gaze of disdain, as if he were looking at a
loathsome insect. "Ah, the brains of the outfit," Brian snapped. "Passed Intro
to Astro-Navigation by one point. Good heavens, Bell, if that stretched your
pea brain, I can promise you that first-year Astro-Nav will make sure I don't
have to look at your ugly face again come next semester. Boy, you are nothing
but a hick from the cornfields of Indiana and when I'm done with you, you'll
wish you had stayed there."
He continued on, harassing Matt over his accent, and then moved on, attempting
to make life miserable for everyone. Half an hour later, after chewing
everyone out, he went through the ritual of reading the ship's General Orders
"Article Twenty-Three, If any member of the
Service while aboard an active-duty ship conspires to commit mutiny, and such
offense occurs in a time of war or emergency mobilization, the commanding
officer shall have, within his powers, the right and privilege to summarily
execute the offender, by agreement of those staff
officers on board who are in good standing, if the actions of the offender do
jeopardize the safety of the ship or mission of that ship. If a member of the
Service under those above listed conditions should strike an officer, the
punishment shall be summary execution with the agreement of those staff
officers on board who are in good standing.' "
"Article Twenty-four"
Justin had heard the Articles, all twenty-five of them read off at every
Sunday service, and he was expected to know all of them by heart. But there
was something chilling about the ritual, which he knew dated back hundreds of
years to the old sailing days of the British Royal Navy.
The reading completed, Brian waited for several minutes as if hoping that
someone had to sneeze, twitch, or move. He was looking for a victim to make an [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]