Captain Genka, at his desk by the transparent outside wall of the room, was carefully copying the diagram for a medium-power two-phase oxygen installation. Lieber Polly was lying on his bed (an activity that was not encouraged during the daytime), pretending to read a fat book in a cheerless jacket—Introduction to the Operation of Atmospherogenic Assemblies. Navigator Athos-Sidorov stood by his desk and thought. This was his favorite pastime. Simultaneously he observed with contemptuous interest the instinctive reactions of Lin, who was enthralled by geography.
Beyond the transparent wall, under a kindly sun, the sand showed yellow and the slender pines rustled. The diving tower, with its long springboards, jutted over the lake.
The instructor’s voice began to tell how the volcano Stromboli had been extinguished, and Lin forgot himself completely. Now he was biting his nails on both hands at the same time, and the noble nerves of Athos could stand no more. “Lin,” he said, “stop that gnawing!”
Without turning around, Lin shrugged in vexation.
“He’s hungry!” declared Pol, coming to life. He sat up on the bed in order to elaborate upon this theme, but here the Captain slowly turned his large-browed head and glared at him.
“What are you looking at me for?” asked Pol. “I’m reading, I’m reading. ‘The output of the AGK-7 is sixteen cubic meters of ozonized oxygen per hour. The stra-ti-fi-ca-tion method permits—’”
“Read to yourself!” Athos advised.
“Well, I don’t think he’s bothering you,” the Captain said in an iron voice.
“You think he isn’t, and I think he is,” said Athos-Sidorov.
Their glances met. Pol watched the development of the incident with enjoyment. He was sick to the nth degree of the Introduction to.
“Have it your way,” said the Captain. “But I’m not figuring on doing everyone’s work myself. And you’re not doing anything, Athos. You’re as much use as a fifth wheel.”
The navigator smiled scornfully and did not deem it necessary to answer. At that moment the screen went out, and Lin turned around with a creak of his chair.
“Guys!” he said. “Zow! Guys! Let’s go there.”
“Let’s go!” Pol shouted, and jumped up.
“Where is there?” the Captain asked ominously.
“To Paricutin! To Mount Pelée! To—”
“Hold it!” yelled the Captain. “You’re a bunch of lousy traitors! I’m sick and tired of messing around with you! I’m going by myself. You can take off for wherever you feel like. Is that clear?”
“Phooey!” said Athos elegantly.
“Phooey yourself, you understand? You approved the plan, you shouted ‘zow-zow,’ but what are you doing now? Well, I’m just plain sick and tired of messing around with you. I’ll make a deal with Natasha or with that idiot Walter, you hear? You can go fly a kite. I’ve had it with you, and that’s final!”
The Captain turned his back and wrathfully resumed copying the blueprint. A heavy silence ensued. Polly quietly lay back down and resumed studying the Introduction to furiously. Athos compressed his lips, and the ponderous Lin got up and started pacing the room with his hands in his pockets. “Genka,” he said indecisively. “Captain, you-cut-this out. What do you want to—”
“You take off for your Mount Pelée,” the Captain muttered. “For your Paricutin. We’ll manage.”
“Captain… what are you saying? You can’t tell Walter, Genka!”
“Just watch me. I’ll tell him all right. He may be an idiot, but he’s no traitor.”
Lin increased his pace to a run without taking his hands out of his pockets. “What would you go and do that for, Captain? Look, Polly is already grinding.”
“‘Polly, Polly’! Polly is full of hot air. And I’ve just plain had it with Athos. Think of it—navigator of the Galaktion! The blow-hard!”
Lin turned to Athos. “You’re right. Athos, something… it’s not right, you know. We’re all trying.”
Athos studied the forested horizon. “What are you all jabbering for?” he inquired politely. “If I said I’d go, I’ll go. I don’t think I’ve ever lied to anyone yet. And I’ve never let anyone down, either.”
“Cut it out,” Lin said fiercely. “The Captain’s right. You’re just loafing, being a pig.”
Athos turned and narrowed his eyes. “So tell me, o Great Worker,” he said, “why is a Diehard inferior to an AGK-7 under conditions of nitrogen surplus?”
“Huh?” Lin said distractedly, and looked at the Captain. The Captain barely raised his head.
“What are the nine steps in operating an Eisenbaum?” asked Athos. “Who invented oxytane? You don’t know, you grind! Or in what year? You don’t know that either?”
That was Athos—a great man despite his numerous failings. A reverent silence settled over the room, except for Pol Gnedykh’s angry leafing of the pages of the Introduction.
“Who cares who invented what?” Lin muttered uncertainly, and stared helplessly at the Captain.
The Captain got up, went over to Athos, and poked him in the stomach with his fist. “Good man, Athos,” he declared. “I was a fool to think you were loafing.”
“Loafing!” Athos said, and poked the Captain in the side. He had accepted the apology.
“Zow! Guys!” proclaimed the Captain. “Set your course by Athos. Feeders on cycle, spacers! Stand by for Legen accelerations. Watch the reflector. Dust flow to the left! Zow!”
“Zow-zow-zow!” roared the crew of the Galaktion.
The Captain turned to Lin. “Engineer Lin,” he said, “do you have any questions on geography?”
“Nope,” the engineer reported in turn,
“What else do we have today?”
“Algebra and work,” said Athos.
“Ri-ight! So let’s start with a fight. The first pair’ll be Athos versus Lin. Polly, go sit down. Your legs are tired.”
Athos started getting ready for the fight. “Don’t forget to hide the materials,” he said, “They’re scattered all over—Teacher’ll see them.”
“Okay. We’re leaving tomorrow anyhow.”
Pol sat down on the bed and laid aside his book. “It doesn’t say here who invented oxytane.”
“Albert Jenkins,” the Captain said without having to think. “In seventy-two.”
Teacher Tenin arrived at Room 18, as always, at 4:00 p.m. There was no one in the room, but water was flowing copiously in the shower, and he could hear snorting, slapping, and exultant cries of “zow-zow-zow!” The crew of the Galaktion was washing up after their exertions in the workshops.
The teacher paced the room. Much here was familiar and usual. Lin, as always, had scattered his clothes over the whole room. One of his slippers lay on Athos’s desk, undoubtedly representing a yacht. The mast was made out of a pencil; the sail, of a sock. This, of course, was Pol’s work. In this regard Lin would mutter angrily, “You think that’s pretty smart, huh, Polly?” The transparency system for the walls and ceiling was out of order—Athos had done that. The controls were by the head of his bed, and as he went to sleep, he would play with them. He would lie there pressing keys, and at one moment the room would become quite dark, and in the next the night sky and moon over the park would appear. Usually the controls were broken, if no one had stopped Athos in time. Athos today was doomed to fix the transparency system.
Lin’s desk was chaos. Lin’s desk was always chaos, and there was nothing to be done about it. This was simply one of those cases where the teacher’s contrivances and the entire powerful apparatus of child psychology were helpless.