Paula waited expectantly. I said, “The miners come for five-year shifts. They get their food, extra air, and supplies from us. I’ve heard it’s a very rough place.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“Nope, this is my first time. And even I won’t get to see it; we’ll dock aloft at the orbiting station, then be on our way.
They’ll shuttle their supplies down to the surface.”
“I wish I could go down.” Her tone was wistful. “Just to look.” I understood; my own cabin fever was growing. I could imagine a day, if traffic between Earth and Hope Nation continued to expand, when Miningcamp might be a civilized way station, with amenities such as hotels and play areas.
Later in the week, alone and unobserved on the bridge, I called the simulation of Miningcamp Station onto the screens and practiced docking maneuvers. Of course, the Pilot would dock us, but I intended to be ready nonetheless. Out of five attempts, I did tolerably well three times. The other two tries I preferred not to think about.
I was enduring a boring afternoon on the bridge when Vax Holser reported for his first watch in two days. He called, “Permission to enter bridge, sir.”
“Granted. Good Lord, what did you do to yourself?”
He bore a spectacular shiner; the swollen skin around his half-closed eye included hues of blue, black, and purple.
Vax stopped, dismayed. His mouth opened and shut like a fish in a bowl. Then he saved me from my embarrassment.
“What was that, sir? I didn’t hear you.”
“Just talking to myself,” I said, grateful for his quick thinking. I turned to hide the blush that made my ears burn red. A first midshipman was expected to control his wardroom, yet at the same time a disgruntled middy or cadet was allowed to challenge his senior. These customs could be maintained only if officers carefully ignored any evidence that fighting, prohibited by the regs, had occurred. The practice was sanctified by long tradition.
Vax couldn’t avoid answering a direct question from his Captain, but if I learned how he’d gotten his shiner, I would be forced to intervene. His tactful deafness had allowed me to extricate myself from my blunder.
Who had hit him so hard? Certainly not Sandy or Ricky; Vax could stuff either of them into the recycler, one-handed.
Alexi? A possibility; there’d once been bad blood between the two, though I assumed it a thing of the past. Alexi must now be looking forward to the day Vax was made lieutenant, and Alexi himself became senior. He would bide his time.
But that left only Derek, slim and aristocratic, no match for Vax Holser’s bulk.
Alexi came to relieve me, cheerful, slightly irreverent, in good spirits. And unmarked, so I knew Alexi hadn’t been Vax’s foolhardy challenger.
It wasn’t until the next day that I found Derek dragging himself along the corridor. He walked slowly, as if in pain.
When he saw me, he came to attention, his face reflecting an inner misery that disturbed me greatly. His eyes, when they finally met mine, were pools of humiliation.
“Carry on, Cadet.”
“Aye aye, sir,” he mumbled. He moved on in small shuffling steps.
I pondered. As a veteran of Hibernia’swardroom, I should be able to figure out what had happened.
Obviously Vax had hazed Derek until a spark of rebellion had caught and smoldered in the harried cadet. Derek had challenged his tormentor. Vax would have taken him to the exercise room, where I had gone with Vax to decide his own challenge. There the two of them had squared off. Derek
must have been lucky; speed and daring were not enough to overcome Vax’s advantages of size, strength, and conditioning. In any event, Derek had connected with a shot to the eye that would have enraged the muscular midshipman.
Vax, furious, would have pounded the hapless cadet into the deck. Or had he? Derek’s face was unmarked. Yet the way he walked... as if he’d been put over the barrel. But only a lieutenant could order that.
Had Vax sent Derek to the Chief, as I’d sent Alexi? No, it was a wardroom challenge; Vax had to settle it himself. A senior middy who couldn’t hold his wardroom was marked as a failure. Beyond that, Vax would have craved to avenge the maddening blow Derek had landed.
I pictured the exercise room. Vax, in a fury at having been marked by the upstart cadet. Derek circling warily, while Vax stalked him with grim concentration around the exercise horse bolted to the deck.
With a sinking feeling, I realized what Vax had done.
Derek, after all, was but a cadet, subject to whatever rigorous discipline his betters dispensed. Vax, eye throbbing and in foul mood, would have sought the most humiliating revenge he could inflict; that was like Vax. He must have seized Derek and thrown him over the horse; he was strong enough to hold the younger boy down with ease. He’d have taken his belt and applied it unsparingly to the frantic cadet until his rage was spent and Derek knew--no, Vax would make him acknowledge aloud--who was in charge of the wardroom and of the cadet. No wonder Derek walked with such abject misery.
How should I raise the issue with Vax? He’d been within his rights; Derek had challenged him and succeeded in striking him. But Vax had to be reminded that the purpose of hazing wasn’t to break Derek, it was to strengthen him.
About a week later I decided to bring the matter into the open, when we shared a watch. “Tell me, Vax, how do you rate our cadet?”
Vax considered thoughtfully. “To tell the truth, Captain Seafort, much higher than I thought at first. I thought he’d wash out in a week. He’s hanging on. But still... “
“He’s not ready for his blues?”
“That’s your decision, sir,” Vax said quickly.
“What’s your opinion?”
“He’s trying very hard. But, no, sir, he’s not ready, if you ask me. I still haven’t seen his Yall.”
I nodded, understanding. In Academy our instructors had exhorted cadets to make the extra effort, to give our all. We’d been told it was the Naval tradition. To give the Navy all had become a clich6 among cadets and middies, until even the instructors adopted the phrase. “The Navy all” became “the Navy yall” in Academy parlance, until it was shortened to “the Yall”. A cadet who gave his Yall was wholeheartedly trying to live up to Academy expectations. He was a winner, soon promoted to middy.
“He’s had to adapt quite a bit, Vax.”
Vax surprised me. “I know. He’s sensitive and shy, and I’ve been riding him hard. He’s taken everything I’ve handed him. Even... well, he hasn’t done badly. But I don’t see that last full commitment.”
I decided. “Keep riding him for a couple of days. Then I’ll talk to him. I’ll be the gentle one. We’ll muttanjeff him.”
Vax looked perplexed.
“It means coming up on his blind side. Mutt is an old word for a mongrel dog. I don’t know what a jeff was. Or maybe it was mutton, like sheep meat.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Vax didn’t concern himself with ancient slang.
Two days later Alexi shared my watch. Several times he started, trying to keep awake. I glanced his way, noticed circles under his eyes. “Party in the wardroom last night?”
“No, sir,” Alexi said quickly. “I didn’t sleep well.”
I thought for a while. Damn it, I wanted to know. I needed to know. “Tell me,” I said quietly.
He studied my face. Perhaps he was reassured by my expression. “Mr. Holser had Ricky and Derek standing regs half the night,” he said.”First one, then the other.” Standing regs was a traditional form of hazing. The subject had to stand on a chair in the middle of the wardroom wearing nothing but his shorts, reciting the Naval regulations he was supposed to have memorized, while the senior middy made whatever disparaging remarks came to mind. Sometimes, if the senior were sufficiently irked, the shorts were dispensed with.
Later in the day I took a stroll in the direction of the wardroom. Through the hatch I heard Vax Holser’s bellow.
“Straighten your back, you slob! Get it stiff! Your back, I mean. The other part you get stiff often enough, I hear you panting at night. About-face! About-face! At ease!” A pause.