“I’ll make you sorrier!” I sat up, thought better of it, eased myself back on my bunk. “No officer would look into the middy’s head to see how you behave. But running out into the corridor... Mr. Cousins is right; you aredolts.”

Alexi flushed; Sandy studied his fingernails.

Angry as I was, I wasn’t surprised that they’d frolicked like the boys they were. What else could be expected, even on a starship? One had to go to space young to spend life as a sailor, else the risk of melanoma T was too great. Unfortunately, aboard such an immense and valuable vessel as Hiber-nia,there was no room for youngsters’ folly.

I growled, “Four demerits apiece, for letting your foolishness get out of hand.” Severe, but Mr. Cousins would have given much worse, and my buttocks stung like fire. “I’ll write it as improper hygiene. Alexi, two extra for you.”

“But I started it!” Sandy’s protest was from the heart.

“You ran into the corridor, which should have ended it.

Mr. Tamarov chose to follow. Alexi, how many does that give you?”

“Nine, Mr. Seafort.” He was pale.

I growled, “Work them off fast, because I’m in no mood to overlook any offense.” Ten would earn him a caning, like I’d just been given; Alexi would have to be vigilant while he worked down his demerits. “Start now; you have two hours before lunch.”

“Aye aye, Mr. Seafort.” They scrambled out of their bunks. In a moment they’d slipped on shoes and jackets and departed for the exercise room, leaving me the solitude I’d sought. I rolled onto my stomach and surrendered to my misery.

“It’s time, Mr. Seafort.” Alexi Tamarov jolted me from my fretful dream, from Father’s bleak kitchen, the creaky chair, the physics text I’d struggled to master under Father’s watchful eye.

I shoved away Alexi’s persistent hand. “We don’t cast off ‘til midwatch.” Groggy, I blinked myself awake.

From the hatchway, Vax Holser watched with a sardonic grin. “Let him sleep, Tamarov. Lieutenant Malstrom won’t mind if he’s late.”

I surged out of my bunk in dizzy confusion. Reporting late to duty station would be a matter for Mr. Cousins, and after the incident two days prior, Lord God help me if I called his attention anew. I glanced at my watch. I’d slept six hours! In frantic haste I snatched my blue jacket from the chair, thrust my arms into my sleeves as I polished the tip of a shoe against the back of my trouser leg.

“Why do we bother waking you?” Vax sounded disgusted.

I didn’t answer; he left for his duty station in the comm room, Sandy Wilsky tagging behind him.

“Thanks, Alexi,” I muttered, and nearly collided with him in the hatchway. I scrambled into the circumference corridor and ran past the east ladder, smoothing my hair and tugging at my tie as I rounded the bend to the airlock. I’d barely reached my station when Captain Haag’s voice echoed through the speaker.

“Uncouple mooring lines!”

Lieutenant Malstrom returned my salute in offhand fashion, his eye on the suited sailor untying our forward safety line from the shoreside stanchion.

“Line secured, sir,” the seaman said, and by the book I repeated it to Mr. Malstrom as if he hadn’t heard. The lieutenant waved me permission to proceed.

“Close inner lock, Mr. Howard. Prepare for breakaway.”

I tried for the tone of authority that came so naturally to Hibernia’slieutenants.

“Aye aye, sir.” Seaman Howard keyed the control; the thick transplex hatches slid shut smoothly, joining in the center to form a tight seal.

Lieutenant Malstrom opened a compartment, slid a lever downward. From within the airlock, a brief hum, and a click.

He signaled the bridge. “Forward inner lock sealed, sir.

Capture latches disengaged.”

“Very well, Mr. Malstrom.” Captain Haag’s normally gruff voice sounded detached through the caller. The ship’s whistle blew three short blasts. After a moment the Captain’s remote voice sounded again. “Cast off!”

Our duties performed, Lieutenant Malstrom and I had little to do but watch while our side thrusters alternately released tiny jets of propellant in quick spurts, rocking us gently. Our airlock suckers parted reluctantly from their counterparts on the station lock. U.N.S. Hiberniaslowly drifted free of Ganymede Station. When we were clear by about ten meters I glanced up at Lieutenant Malstrom. “Shall we secure, sir?”

He nodded.

I gave the order. The alumalloy outer hatches slid shut, barring our view of the receding station. Lieutenant Malstrom keyed our caller. “Forward hatch secured, sir.”

“Secured; very well.” The Captain seemed preoccupied, as well he might. On the bridge he and the Pilot would be readying Hiberniafor Fusion. I felt a bit queasy as our weight diminished. We were slowly losing the benefits of the station’s gravitrons, and the Captain hadn’t yet brought our own on-line.

We waited in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. “Say good-bye, Micky.” Lieutenant Malstrom’s tone was soft.

“I already did, sir, back in Lunapolis.” I would miss Cardiff, of course, and aloft, the familiar warrens of Lunapolis. I would even miss Farside Academy, where I’d trained as a cadet three years ago. But Ganymede Station was another matter. It had been over a month since I’d cried out my regrets in an unnoticed corner of a service bar in down-under Lunapolis, and by now I was long ready.

The fusion drive kicked in. In the rounded porthole the stars shifted red, then blue. As the drive reached full strength they slowly faded to black.

We were Fused.

External sensors blind, Hiberniahurtled out of the Solar System on the crest of the N-wave generated by our drive.

“All hands, stand down from launch stations.” The Captain’s voice seemed husky.

I locked Seaman Howard’s transmitter in the airlock safe.

“Chess, Nick?” Lieutenant Malstrom asked when the sailor had departed.

“Sure, sir.” We headed up-corridor to officers’ country.

In the lieutenant’s bleak cabin, a windowless gray cubicle four meters square and two and a half meters high, Mr.

Malstrom tossed the chessboard onto his bunk. I sat on the gray navy blanket at the foot of the bed; he settled by the starched white pillow at the head.

“I’m going to learn to beat you,” he said, setting up the pieces. “Something I can concentrate on besides ship’s routine.” I smiled politely. I had no intention of letting him win; chess was one of my few accomplishments. At home in Cardiff I had been semifinalist in my age group, before Father brought me to Academy at thirteen.

We played the half-minute rule, loosely enforced. In the weeks since Hiberniahad left Earthport Station I’d won twenty-three times, he had won twice. This time it took me twentyfive moves. As was our habit we shook hands gravely after the game.

“When we get back from Hope Nation I’ll be thirty-five.”

He sighed, perhaps a trifle morosely. “You’ll be twenty.”

“Yes, sir.” I waited.

“What do you regret more?” he asked abruptly. “The years you’ll lose, or being cooped in the ship so long?”

“I don’t see them as lost years, sir. When I get back I’ll have enough ship’s time to make lieutenant, if I pass the boards. I wouldn’t even be close if I stayed home.” I didn’t dare tell him how strongly the ambition burned within me.

He said nothing, and I reflected a moment. “Thirty-four months, round-trip. I don’t know, sir. I tested low for claustrophobia, like all of us.” I risked a grin. “It depends whether it’s three years playing chess with you or being reamed out by Lieutenant Cousins.” For a moment I thought I’d overstepped myself, but it was all right.

Lieutenant Malstrom let out a long, slow breath. “I won’t criticize a brother officer, especially to one of junior rank like yourself. I merely wonder aloud how he ever got into Academy.”