The weird week for cadet mentors continues.

Chapter 40

At dinner that evening, Rachel was uncharacteristically quiet and stabbing at her food. Hipper crouched in her lap, quiet and ready to defend her against whatever might bother her further. All her friends noticed her uneasy mood. How could one impertinent question affect me so much? Are Mayhews fated to be annoyed by Muellers at every turn?

"I can't believe he had the nerve to ask that question," Matt said.

"I can. He's a Mueller," Rachel replied and patted his hand. "Hey, I don't have anything to prove to some pretentious first form, especially a Mueller. It's forgotten."

She looked at Theresa. "He's in your group, isn't he?"

Theresa nodded and winked. "I'll run them ragged in the morning."

"Ouch," Lew and Diego chorused. She was the captain for the academy's cross-country running team, so indeed, they would be run ragged.

Theresa shrugged. "Just another lesson this week for uppity first forms."

Max spoke. "Can I play devil's advocate in this situation?"

"I thought you were agnostic, but go ahead," Rachel said.

Max rolled his eyes. "Matt, how do you put up with her?"

"Easy, he gets to kiss me."

The table laughed.

"Anyway… what if he didn't realize that his question was wrong?" Max asked.

"Because Muellers think the universe revolves around them, that they are the pinnacle of Grayson morality, and they take any opportunity to peck at my dad - even from light years away," Rachel replied, not caring that she sounded snippy.

She was about to continue when she heard a throat clearing behind her. She turned and saw Cadet Mueller standing there. Nate and Robert both stood, the dining hall fell quiet, and Matt squeezed her hand.

"Can I help you, cadet?" she asked.

"M'lady, may I speak to you after supper?" he asked.

She nodded. "See you then."

#

After supper, Rachel and Matt found Cadet Mueller sitting on a bench adjacent the entrance of Casey Dining Hall. He rose from the bench and approached them.

"M'lady?" Nate asked.

On her shoulder, Hipper rubbed his furry cheek against hers, unconcerned about Mueller but supportive of his person. "It's alright."

The cadet stopped and looked at Matt. "Cadet Mueller, you had no problem asking your impertinent question in front of sixty of your classmates, so surely you shouldn't have a problem with just one person here. He's not going anywhere," Rachel stated.

"M'lady, I didn't know that my question would seem impertinent. My curiosity got the best of me. I apologize."

She took a deep breath. "Your apology is accepted, but surely you must realize that it simply wasn't your business or place to ask such a question?"

"I do now… some of my classmates have let me know. I just want you to know that I'm not one of those Muellers. I'm a distant cousin, very distant, and I don't see eye-to-eye with their irrational hatred of your father."

Rachel nodded, recognizing his sincerity. She could be gracious, and she was surprised to feel a trickle of sympathy for the young man burdened with the Mueller name. Truth be told, there had been some stinky Mayhews dangling from the family tree.

"As I said, apology accepted."

"Thank you, m'lady."

"Are you going through with flight school?"

"Yes, m'lady. If what happened to you didn't scare you off, then it won't scare me either," he said.

"That's what I like to hear," she said and extended her hand. "Rachel Mayhew, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. This is my fiancée, Matt Goodson, From Redmon."

He shook their hands. "Patrick Mueller. I'm pleased as well. Redmon, you say? Home of Wilkins-Hill High School, who beat out Surtees High for the high school baseball championship?"

September 5, 1924 P.D.

Rachel landed her pinnace in its place aside the hangar and thought ahead to lunch. She performed the post-flight procedures and thanked Lt. Weston for the flight. She went to rack her helmet when she heard Lt. Lee call her name from the pilot house.

"Moving, sir!"

She trotted up the stairwell and knocked on the door. "Enter!"

She opened the door and reported. Commander Esteban, the academy's chief flight instructor, and Lt. Lee were there.

"At ease. Has it been hectic week for you?"

"Monday and Tuesday were, but things have calmed down, sir," she replied.

"Well, something else has come up. It's an unusual request and I disagree with it, because you're not a faculty member and it's not part of your curriculum. However, Master Sergeant Lane thought you'd go for it."

Master Sergeant Lane was the chief swimming instructor and lower form boxing team coach, so what in the world would she go for? She completed the academy swim requirements her second year and wasn't on the boxing team.

Lt. Lee spoke. "There's an issue with the first form flight class at the pool."

"Sir?"

"It happens every year with basic water survival. We can't force panicked first forms to jump into a pool in full flight gear. That's a recipe for drowning."

She agreed, but she had been a good swimmer before the academy. Thanks Aunt Honor! However, the first forms were another matter- the Graysons especially. The most water they had ever been in was a bathtub at home.

"Master Sergeant Lane thought that if they saw you in the pool in your flight gear…"

"Oh."

Hipper chirped, flicked his tail, and started signing. Will not go in after you this time.

"Like I said, you don't have to, it won't count against you," the commander said.

She thought of what Matt would say, and what the comical look on his face would be like. From her shoulder, Hipper caught her thought and bleeked his amusement.

"Can I snag a couple of classmates?" she asked.

"Certainly. You're a sport for doing this, Miss Mayhew. I'll get on the horn and let Sergeant Lane know you're on the way over."

#

At the aquatic complex, the rescue swimmers were demonstrating a technique for treading water to reassure the cadets standing around the pool. It wasn't working.

"Cadets, at some point you're going to have to get your feet wet, or you'll be dropped from flight class," Sergeant Lane told them for the fifth time. "All it takes is—"

The doors to the pool opened and in walked Mayhew, Truman, Hutchins, and Lt. Lee in full flight gear. Sergeant Lane saluted and thanked him.

"This might do the trick," the sergeant said.

"May I?" Rachel asked.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said.

Rachel, Angela, and Trent approached the first forms who looked a little embarrassed but straightened up at their approach. She stopped in front of the Graysons in the group. "What seems to be the problem?"

She waved to the pool behind her. "Not this, I hope. It's just water."

At that, Angela and Trent put on their flight helmets and playfully cannon-balled into the water. She rolled her eyes and continued. "While you can enter the water that way, I suggest going down the ladder at first."

She raised an eyebrow at Mueller and nodded toward the ladder.

"Y-yes, m'lady."

She gave her flight cap to Hipper and put on her helmet. She climbed down the ladder at the shallow end, kicked away, and stood. "I'm 1.7 meters tall. My feet are touching the bottom and my shoulders are above the water," she announced to the nervously watching cadets.

Mueller took a deep breath, and with shaking hands, took hold of the ladder and slowly made his way down the ladder. He looked to Rachel, who had her arm held out. He reluctantly let go of the ladder and grabbed her hand. She gently pulled him toward her and let go. He drifted next to her, gasped when his feet rested on the bottom of the pool, and smiled at her in triumph.

"Next!" she called out.

It took a while to get all 54 cadets got into the pool, but the hardest part for them was yet to come. They were instructed to get a life jacket from the stack and line up by squads at the deep end of the pool. Lt. Lee was sitting on the end of the three-meter platform, legs dangling, taking video with his memo board.

Trent and Angela, sitting on the edge of the pool, joined Rachel when they saw her swim to the deep end. The three stopped and started treading water. The rescue swimmers tossed some floats into the pool, dove in, and waited.

"Step off into the water, make your way toward those in the water, and then work your way to the ladder at the other end," Sergeant Lane told them. "You have on life jackets, there's flotation devices in the water, and the rescue swimmers are there. Look alive, let's go."

Braver than he had been before, Mueller stepped off. He went under briefly but bobbed back up and splashed his way to Rachel, Angela, and Trent. All three had their hands out and he slapped the first hand he reached.

"Good job, now head that way," Trent said and pointed to the shallow end ladder.

#

At dinner that night, Rachel took bites of her fish and nodded along to Matt's fussing at their "stunt in the pool" while Angela giggled at his consternation.

"You two are certifiable," Matt declared and jabbed his fork at them. "And where's Hutchins?"

He looked around caught Hutchin's grin and jaunty salute across the dining hall. "Him too."

Rachel sighed and patted his hand. "Love, there was no danger. I'm a good swimmer, we were surrounded by rescue swimmers, and it was fun."

"Like I said, certifiable."

Hipper bleeked his agreement and gently smacked Rachel on her head with his his tail.

"What's everyone's plans this weekend?" Angela asked.

She already knew Rachel's plans. Saturday with Matt, followed by a steak dinner, her friend had said. For Sunday morning, Chaplain Stevens had asked her to play the piano for the Grayson church service.

"You'll be home Sunday afternoon?" Rachel asked.

Angela nodded. "Mom said lunch will be waiting."

"Theresa will be arriving Sunday late afternoon, so I want to meet her at the space port," Rachel said.

"Sure thing," Angela replied.

Fourth form Mike Haas, the leader of the academy's contemporary band The Academy Players, walked to the table and greeted everyone.

"Rachel, got a minute?"

"Sure."

"Well, the band is playing at the rec hall tonight; an exhibition for potential new band members. We need a good pianist, just for a few songs."

"What time?"

He grinned. "Seven, thanks."

"See you then."

#

After the band finished their set, Rachel left the rec and strolled toward the Quadrangle, adjacent the fourth form dorms and the traditional Friday night poker game with her friends. She passed the sidewalk leading to the Saganami Tactical Studies Complex and saw Matt across the Quadrangle. She waved and heard a voice behind her. She turned around and came to attention when she saw Captain Petersen approaching.

"Good evening, ma'am."

"And to you, Miss Mayhew. At ease. Did you come from the rec hall? I can hear the racket from here."

"Yes ma'am, for a bit, the Players needed a pianist for their exhibition."

"Then you evacuated the area."

"Yes ma'am."

She had no intention of staying any longer than she had to in that hall crowded with noisy, dramatic first forms. She had had enough of that during the week, thank you very much. Matt reached them and stood at attention for the captain.

"At ease."

Matt did so and greeted her. "Ma'am. are you feeling alright after your… episode?"

Captain Petersen chuckled. "I'm going to be perfectly fine, Mr. Goodson, thank you for your concern. My episode was a result of morning sickness, for a condition commonly known as pregnancy. Although it seems to be going on all day, not just morning."

"That's wonderful, ma'am!" Rachel exclaimed. "I mean, not the morning sickness, though."

"Congratulations, ma'am," he said.

The captain gestured for them to continue walking. "Are you two taking liberty off island?"

"Definitely," they chorused.

"In that case, enjoy your weekend and take care."

"Good evening, ma'am," they said and watched her walk toward the faculty parking lot, where a man was leaning against the car, waiting for her.