“I don’t want a medical discharge. I want to know the truth. Why did you hijack me? And how many people have you done it to besides me? I know of at least ten,” I lied. “What do you want with us? And don’t tell me you don’t have enough candidates.”
“Actually, that’s exactly why we hijacked you,” he said, and called into the inner office. “Commander! I think you’d better take over!”
The Commander came in. At least, she was wearing a commander’s uniform and insignia, but she couldn’t be the Commander. She was the recruiter who’d come to Winfrey High. “Hello, Ms. Baumgarten,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You!” I said. “You kidnapped me because of that question I asked in assembly, to punish me.”
“Yes and no,” she said. “Punishment was the farthest thing from my mind. And I prefer the word ‘shanghaied’ to ‘kidnapped.’”
“Shanghaied?”
“Yes. It comes from the practice in the port of Shanghai in the 1800s of ship captains’ using unorthodox methods for obtaining crews for long, dangerous voyages. When they couldn’t get the sailors they needed any other way, they drugged them, carried them aboard, and held them prisoner till they were out to sea. Not a nice technique, but sometimes necessary.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “You have thousands and thousands of people who are dying to go to the Academy every year.”
“You’re right,” she said. “Last year we had nine thousand students who successfully completed all four tiers of the screening policy. From those, we chose three hundred, which meant they were the most determined and dedicated of those nine thousand.”
“And every one of them’s thrilled to be here,” I said.
“Exactly. They love the Academy, they love IASA, and that sort of intense devotion is absolutely necessary. Space exploration is an impossibly challenging and dangerous, often deadly, undertaking. Without complete belief in what they’re doing, it couldn’t be done. But that sort of devotion can also be a handicap. Explorers who are too in love with the jungle end up being bitten by snakes or eaten by tigers. To survive, IASA has to have people who are fully aware of the jungle’s dangers and disadvantages and not the least enchanted by its beauties.
“Which means, along with astrogation and the ability to live in confined quarters, we also recruit for skepticism, independence, and questioning of authority—in short, for people who don’t like the jungle. Unfortunately, those people generally do everything they can to avoid it, which is why we are forced to—”
“Shanghai people,” I said. “Let me get this straight. The reason you wanted me to come to the Academy was because I didn’t want to?”
“Yes.”
“And what was I supposed to do here?”
“Precisely what you did. Refuse to be impressed, challenge authority, break the rules. Your determination to communicate with your friend was particularly educational. We obviously need to do a much better job of preventing hacking. Also, we’ve learned not to put D.A. even on interior records. And it’s clear we need to reexamine the necessity of providing private space for our cadets. You’ve performed a valuable service,” she said. “IASA thanks you.” She extended her hand.
“I’m not done asking questions yet,” I said. “Why do you have to shanghai people? Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“Would you have come?”
I thought about that day she’d come to Winfrey High to recruit applicants. “No.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Besides, bringing D.A.s here involuntarily ensures the critical mindset we’re looking for.”
“It also ensures that when they find out, they’ll be so furious they won’t want to have anything to do with the Academy or IASA,” I said.
“True,” she said ruefully, “but they don’t usually find out. You’re only the second one.”
“Was the first one Palita Duvai?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “Unfortunately, Cadet Duvai’s medical discharge was real. Inner-ear complications.”
But if she wasn’t the one, I thought, frowning, then that meant uncovering the conspiracy didn’t automatically mean a discharge, and that meant—
“The other D.A.s concluded that either there’d been a bureaucratic foul-up or they’d been so outstanding they hadn’t needed to apply.”
Jeffrey Griggs, I thought.
“Or they eventually gave up trying to go home and decided that, in spite of the food and the solar flares, they liked the Academy.” She shook her head. “I underestimated your dislike of space. And your friend’s hacking and communication abilities. Tell me, is Kimkim interested in becoming a cadet?”
“That depends on what you’re recruiting for,” I said. “If you want a great hacker, yes. If you’re looking for another D.A., then no, definitely not, she’d probably have to be dragged up here kicking and screaming. And the sooner the better.”
The Commander grinned. “I really am sorry to lose you. I think you would have made an excellent D.A.” She leaned back. “Have we answered all your questions?”
“No,” I said. “I have two more.”
“You want to know what D.A. stands for?”
“No, I already know that. Devil’s advocate.”
She looked at the registrar. “I told you she was good.” She smiled back at me. “You want to know who the other cadet was who figured out what had happened.”
“No, I know that, too. It was you.”
She nodded.
“Did you decide you liked the Academy in spite of its shortcomings?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “I thought it was a complete mess, and that if they didn’t get some people in charge who knew what they were doing and change things, it was going to fall completely apart.”
“I think you’re right,” I said. “You’ve got to get some private space on board before somebody kills somebody, and surely something can be done about the food. And you’ve got to get a lot more cadets with computer skills up here.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” the Commander said, and extended her hand. “Welcome aboard.”
I saluted her. “Cadet Baumgarten reporting for duty,” I said.
“You said you had two questions,” the registrar said. “What was the other one?”
“Which of you won the pool?”
“I did,” the Commander said, and grinned at the registrar. “I told you she was good.”
Yes, well, they don’t know how good. Or how much trouble they’re letting themselves in for. If it’s independence, questioning authority, and bending the rules they want, Kimkim and I can come up with all kinds of stuff. I went straight to my hiding place and called her.
The display lit up. “Illegal transmission,” it read. “Not allowed.”
I waited, and in a couple of minutes Kimkim said, “Sorry. It took me a while to route around their jamming devices. I found out what ‘D.A.’ stands for.”
“So did I,” I said. “I definitely think you should reconsider applying for the Academy. And I think it would be a good idea to pack your kit now so you won’t have to do it at the last minute.”
“I already did,” she said.
“Good,” I said. “I’ve got a list of stuff I need you to bring when you come up. First, I want you to ask my dad for his stink bomb formula…”
Dedication
To Fred Astaire and Robert A. Heinlein, who made it look easy