He reached cabin three just aft of the galley and pushed the door open. Glad to be the first one in, he stowed his bag in a storage bin. The room had four webbed sleeping nets rather than beds. During the summer he had spent a couple of nights in the zero-gravity section learning how to rig up a sleeping net, but slumber had been almost impossible just as he'd nod off, a dream about falling would hit and he'd wake up with a start. At least he was not alone; several cadets actually woke up yelling and thrashing and one had washed out when he swore he'd never try to sleep in zero-gee again.
"Well, old man, roomies again," Matt announced, easily coming through the door and pushing his bag into the storage bin. "Ah, a net! Darn good to be sleeping the way normal people do. Chow smells good, better than Uncle Dan's hash, that's for certain."
"This three aft?"
Justin saw Tanya floating in the doorway.
"You got it," Matt confirmed. "Now don't tell me you're our roomie?"
Tanya rolled her eyes. "Yeah, co-ed arrangements on this flight." Sighing, she came into the room and stowed her gear. Matt looked over at Justin and smirked.
Tanya turned her head and caught his expression.
"Now listen, you two. Just because we're rooming, no funny business. First of all, it's against the regs and second well, second I'm not interested in either of you."
"Oh, I am crushed," Matt wailed. "You have shattered my heart, Leonov dear. I think I'll go space myself."
Matt doubled over with laughter as Tanya shoved him; he tumbled off his feet and bounced off the wall. Rebounding and still laughing he grabbed hold of a sleeping net, braked his flight and settled back down onto the floor.
"Hey, guess I'm with you guys."
Justin forgot the hurt he didn't want to show, and grinned as Madison Smith came into the room, her bright cheery smile lighting her dark features.
"Good, now it's two to two," Leonov announced, and the girls slapped each other's hands.
" Madison, how are things in Company B?" Matt asked. "Kind of missed your not being with the old crew from summer."
"Our senior, Arika Yagamaru what a terror! Just twitch on evening parade and it's down on the deck and give her fifty. In low gravity she'll sit on your back while you do them. Jeez, wish I was back withSeay."
"No, you don't," Matt interjected. "Justin and I here thought we had it made, doing the jump with him. All buddy-buddy on the way down, even on the ride home. Back aboard the Academy though, look out! Justin here called him Brian just once, no one around but the three of us, and look out Aunt Thelma Seay had him pull double watch."
The four fell into an argument about whose senior was worse until the shrill cry of the bosun's pipe sounded in the room's loudspeaker. An old-style flat computer screen winked to life on the far wall, showing Petronovich.
"All hands forward for reading of orders and departure."
Justin followed the crush out into the corridor. Some officers would mete out an onerous task to the last one to report and no one wanted to be last on the first day of a cruise.
Swept along by the jostling crowd, he floated forward past the galley, supplies storage rooms, and finally into the rec room just aft of the forward control center. The room quickly filled up, cadets jockeying for position. Justin looked around and was intrigued by the ship's design. All the floor arrangements were laid out on the long axis of the ship. He suddenly realized that when the main engines fired the artificial gravity would make the aft bulkhead walls the "floor" while the floor, when the ship was in zero gravity, would be a "wall." A moment's thought told him that it was done this way to maximize space inside a long narrow swept-back ship, permitting larger rooms rather than a number of small circular decks stacked one on top of another for the two hundred foot length of the ship.
"Ship's company attenshun "
Justin snapped to attention, making sure to keep both feet on the floor. The room was silent, expectant. The door forward, which led up to the flight controls, combat information center, and the distant stratosphere of officers quarters opened. First out was an elderly officer, face florid, hair nearly white, wearing the green tabs of a flight surgeon. Two more officers followed, one of them male, short, rotund, and dark-faced, the other a tall young woman who appeared to be barely out of the Academy. Both of them wore the coveted gold wings above their left breast pockets that designated them as fully qualified pilots. They cleared the door, stepped to the right of the entry and came to attention.
Last through was a stone-faced man, black hair going gray at the temples. His eyes, which were nearly as dark as his hair, darted from side to side as if taking in every detail of the forty plebes, one upperclassman and half a dozen enlisted personnel lined up before him. He moved with the casual ease of someone who had spent years in zero gravity. His walk was rigid, erect, as if by some miracle full gravity held him in place. Justin watched him with a slight sense of awe. This was, after all, Captain Ian MacKenzie. He remembered his father speaking of him with deep respect.
On the way back up from their Skyhook jump Brian had filled them in on "Old Mack." He was a notorious taskmaster, a stickler for regulations; an old line officer dating back to the beginnings of the
USMC, having come into the service from the old British Royal Aerospace Command.
MacKenzie stood silent for a moment surveying the cadets, his eyes sweeping back and forth, his head moving in a jerky manner like an eagle looking down on its prey. Justin sensed that here was something different. Aboard the Academy the officers might be tough, unforgiving, but down deep there was always a certain nurturing. In spite of their toughness he could always sense the hand of Thorsson guiding things. The personnel on the Academy were teachers in addition to being regular officers. MacKenzie was a different breed of cat, a straight line officer of the fleet, and for an instant Justin wondered why Thorsson had thrown forty plebes into his care. Reality lesson, he thought, as Thorsson had warned him.
"Ship's company, attention to orders," MacKenzie announced. His voice was deceptively quiet, a high tenor, seeming not to match his towering frame.
"Articles of the Fleet," he began and for die next ten minutes, reciting from memory, he ticked off all twenty-five articles, as any Captain would go through the ritual aboard any ship about to embark. Once done he paused for a moment, scanning his crew.
"By order of United Space Military Command, I, Ian MacKenzie, Captain, do hereby assert command of this ship Somers, registry number 112A. By order of United Space Military Command I shall pilot this ship to rendezvous with Mars orbital base Delta for transfer of supplies and personnel. While on voyage I will assert the authority of the United Space Military Command and all aboard will, by the articles of the Fleet, comply with all lawful orders issued by me or my designated officers."
He fell silent. The first pilot stepped forward and saluted MacKenzie. She turned and faced the company.
"Ships company, stand at ease."
Justin relaxed, spreading his feet apart. He gave a sidelong glance over at Matt, who rolled his eyes slightly.
MacKenzie, still standing rigidly, cleared his throat.
"I will tell you now that until last week this flight was not slated to carry cadets."
He paused for a moment, looking slightly awkward as if speaking spontaneously was a troublesome chore that he'd rather avoid.
"Be that as it may, you are Fleet personnel. I have been requested to oversee your training. The ship's computer will be linked at all times back to the Academy. For the first day or two you should be able to interact directly with your classes until the time lag for signal makes that impossible. All of you will stand duty shifts in the cockpit, galley, engine room, and hydroponics room, and perform general ship's maintenance. I will provide daily Astro — Navigation problems along with running a class on fleet law."