Tales from the Academy Honorverse

by Scott Washburn

The Royal Manticoran Naval Academy produces the officers that command the Manticoran ships that are locked in a seemingly endless war with the People's Republic of Haven. "Tales from the Academy" follows 4 young cadets through the Academy. Set in the time shortly after "In Enemy Hands".

5. Book Three

Tales from the Academy

Book Three

Third Form

Second Interlude

Admiral Sylvia Thayer's toe was itching. It was itching quite a lot. The problem was that it was a toe on her right foot and Sylvia Thayer did not have a right foot. She had not had one for over two T-years. She looked down at the metal and plastic contraption that encased where she used to have a right leg and a right foot. There was something in there now, but Thayer was not quite sure what it was. Whatever it was had something that felt like a toe, and it itched.

Another four months of this? This is going to drive me crazy!

Thayer's regeneration therapy was nearing completion. The mass of protoplasm and calcium that had been growing inside the cast was now forming itself into a leg-her leg. In theory, when the cast was removed, there would be a leg identical to the one that she had before that awful day on HMS Redoubtable. The doctors assured her that everything was going well. The bones had formed, the muscle tissue was forming and the blood vessels and nerves were taking shape.

Thayer could vouch for the part about the nerves.

There was some device in the cast that was supposed to neutralize the impulses from the newly formed nerves. It must have been working or Thayer would have been in agony from the raw piece of meat attached to her that was not quite a leg. However, her doctors had warned her that the neutralizer would not be completely effective.

She could vouch for that, too.

By the time she was finished with the therapy that would be required once the regeneration cast was removed, Thayer would have spent nearly three T-years in the process. There were many times when she wondered if it was really worth it. It was an incredible nuisance being confined to her powerchair. She needed a steward to help her dress and undress, to get her in and out of her bed, and to help with other humiliating activities. Thayer had always done things for herself. She had never liked the idea of having a personal steward and she deliberately rotated them frequently to avoid becoming friends with them. Thayer was not sure why she did that. She told herself that it was because she just was not comfortable with people waiting on her. She tried not to think about the fact that aside from William Hutchinson, she had not permitted herself to have any close friends since Helen died.

The itching slowly faded, but now it felt like her knee was twitching. That was not quite as distracting, so Thayer turned her attention back to her terminal. There were a lot of messages waiting for her, more that usual. That was to be expected considering the rather unusual circumstances.

The totally unexpected return of Commodore-Rear Admiral now-Honor Harrington had thrown the whole Navy into confusion. The effects had even reached the Academy. Thayer shook her head. She had never had the privilege of meeting Harrington, but that was going to change soon. Thayer certainly admired her accomplishments-who would not?-but her return from the dead was causing an uproar at every level. The instructors had given up even trying to teach classes for two days following the announcement of Harrington's return. Even after that, there was a noticeable lack of concentration on the part of the students-and some of the instructors, too.

That was two months ago. Somehow they had managed to finish up the form and get the senior class graduated. But now there was a new disruption. There was to be a huge celebratory parade in the City of Landing for Admiral Harrington and the Corps of Cadets was ordered to participate. It was turning into a major headache for Thayer. The newly advanced Third Form class was scattered all over the Manticore A & B systems on a training cruise with Home Fleet. They were going to have to be recalled early; indeed, some of them were arriving even now. The new Fourth Form class was about to depart on its 'prentice cruise and their departures were going to have to be delayed. It was a difficult juggling act to arrange for the 'prentice cruises to begin with. The Academy wanted to put the cadets aboard ships that were heading into combat zones and it was not easy coordinating with the Fleet to arrange that. Unfortunately, what had been arranged would now need to be re-arranged. The only silver lining to this cloud was the fact that the Fourth Form class only had about six hundred and fifty cadets in it. If they had to rearrange things for the next class with almost twenty-five hundred, it would have been a real nightmare.

Just getting all the cadets to Landing at the proper time and place was taking on the complexity of a major planetary invasion. Thayer's staff was working out the details now. Transporting almost nine thousand cadets would require more vehicles than the Academy possessed, even if they made two trips. Thayer had to beg, borrow or steal the additional shuttles she needed. It should not have been a problem, but her staff was finding that the other naval commands on and around Manticore were suddenly becoming very possessive about their small craft. Thayer was being forced to make a lot of personal appeals.

One final disruption was the fact that the new First Form class had only been on Saganami Island for three weeks. Their drill standards were hardly up to snuff and they did not have their mess-dress uniforms yet. Captain Gabriel Keeler was insisting on additional drill time for the new cadets so they would not be an embarrassment during the parade. Meanwhile, Thayer was working with her quartermaster, Commander Sproehnel, to scare up those mess-dress uniforms. There was no hope of getting three thousand cadet swords on such short notice, so they would have to do without.

Somehow all of this had to be done without putting the cadets too far behind in their studies. And, of course, in the midst of it, Thayer still had to deal with all of the usual day to day administrative details of keeping the Academy running. She sighed and forced herself to attack her 'In' folder.

The first item on her terminal was a memo from one of Captain Wagner's instructors. He had heard from a friend of a friend that the Weapons Development Board had a new set of software with the performance specs of a number of new items of equipment. Since it would be just wonderful if the Academy's simulators could have this upgrade, would Thayer please see about getting it for him? Thayer sent that to her "Ignore It and Hope It Goes Away" file.

The next item was from the senior Commissary Officer. He was reviewing the plans for the mess hall expansion that would be required when the last section of the new dormitory was completed. He was concerned that there would not be enough food storage and refrigeration space and he was requesting a meeting about it. Thayer initialed her approval and forwarded it to Gwen to set up the meeting. It was not something Thayer wanted to do, but she could see it was necessary. Under threat of drawing and quartering, the builder had managed to get Phase III of the dorm completed on time and they had not had to double up the cadets the way they had last form. But Thayer had seen far more of the man than she would have liked in the last few months, and if this issue required more changes...

Next came a list of promotions and assignment changes for the Academy staff. She was surprised that this had not been at the top of her 'in' file, but as she read further she realized why it had not been and she smiled. Her recommendation that her adjutant, Christopher Semancik, be promoted to full commander had been approved. Chris must have seen this already, and it was just like him to treat it as routine. Thayer was very glad Chris was getting the recognition that his hard work deserved. A warm feeling of affection filled Thayer as she thought about the young officer. Semancik was the closest thing to a friend that Thayer had at the Academy, but she often thought of him more like a son.

Thinking along that line made Thayer think about young Helen Zilwicki, her goddaughter. Helen had been promoted recently, too. She was now Cadet-Lieutenant Colonel Zilwicki. It was an awkward mouthful of a title, but Thayer was proud of her for it. The Cadet-Colonel position was almost always reserved for the top cadet from the nobility, and that was true for Helen's class. Helen could not hope to rise beyond a battalion commander, which was normally the post for a cadet-major. The cadet-lieutenant colonel rank was an award for achievement that could be given to a deserving cadet that could not go any higher in the command structure. It did not surprise Thayer that Helen had won that rank, but it made her feel good nonetheless.

Item four was a memo from the head of the Grounds Department. Repairing the damage from the big storm two months ago in time for graduation had badly depleted the budget for that department. Unless additional funds were made available, there would be a significant shortfall before the start of the next fiscal year. Thayer made a note to talk to her planning staff about that.

The next item made Thayer grin and shake her head. BuShips was requesting its yearly report on the status of HMS Bancroft. The Bancroft had been a cherished Academy tradition even before Thayer had come to Saganami Island, and she would probably be so long after Thayer had retired. The ship was an old, old heavy cruiser. She had been constructed over a hundred and fifty years earlier and had accumulated a combat record that was still unmatched. When the Bancroft had reached the point where even refits could not extend her useful lifespan, someone had come up with the idea of turning her into a training facility on Saganami Island. In retrospect it seemed like a pretty silly idea, but at the time it must have made sense to someone. At considerable expense the heavy cruiser (which was little bigger than a modern light cruiser) had been carefully lowered with tractor beams onto a specially prepared platform built on the island-and there she had stayed ever since. A number of supporting and ancillary buildings had grown up around her and now it was hard to tell that a ship was even there when looking at her from the outside. She was still a commissioned warship and the cadets had affectionately dubbed her the HMS Landlocked.

Thayer fondly remembered crawling around the inside of the Landlocked when she was a cadet. But the Bancroft was so hopelessly obsolete it was hard to see what use she could be now. Even forty years ago Thayer's instructors would usually preface anything they said about the ship's equipment with the phrase: 'We don't use this type of fill in the blank anymore, but...'. The Bancroft was not used for much these days, but no one could stand the thought of getting rid of her. From time to time someone would submit an idea for using the old ship, but they were usually too expensive, or simply impractical. On the other hand, just maintaining the vessel was expensive, too. Commander Haupt had assembled the necessary report and it now required Thayer's signature to ensure that HMS Bancroft was properly accounted for with BuShips for another year.

Thayer was about to attach that signature when a thought struck her. She looked up and glanced around her office at the large collection of artifacts. A few months earlier she had talked to the curator of the Academy Museum about sending some of the items there to be put on display. The curator had tried to be cooperative, but she had mentioned that the museum was already badly over-crowded and had many items in storage for lack of space to display them. The Bancroft is dozens of times bigger than the current museum - and she's a museum piece of sorts herself!

Thayer began to get excited. What a wonderful idea! Take a much-revered ship and turn her into a museum. There were already scheduled tours of the island for civilians; they could also tour the Bancroft. Yes, that could really work. Thayer began to draft a letter to the Admiralty presenting her idea. She was just getting her thoughts in order when her com buzzed.

"Yes, Gwen?" said Thayer

"Admiral, you had a meeting scheduled for 1500, but the cadet has not arrived," said Thayer's secretary. Thayer checked her appointment schedule and saw who was supposed to be there.

"Why doesn't that surprise me? See if you can locate him and let me know when he gets here."

"Yes, Admiral."

Thayer turned back to her letter, but the interruption had made her lose her train of thought. To top it off, her non-existent toe was itching again. That irritation matched the one that was growing in her brain. He couldn't even be on time! What am I going to do about this kid?

The cadet in question was a mystery to Thayer. He came from a noble family that had a long tradition of naval service. He was very bright and could be hard working when he wanted to be. He had also accumulated an incredible number of demerits. Were it not for the new shortened curriculum, he would have a chance to set an Academy record. Yet he was not a typical 'Punk from the Peerage'. He did not have the arrogance that some of them did and he did not get into trouble because he thought he was better than everyone else and could ignore the rules. Or at least it did not seem that way to Thayer. He was not insubordinate and rarely rude-although he did have a big mouth with a barely controlled tongue in it. It seemed like he got into trouble simply to amuse himself-because he knew he could not be kicked out on the basis of demerits. The Admiralty had put the nobility on an equal footing with the commoners in most areas of discipline, but this was not one of them. As long as he did not seriously violate the rules, he was not going to be expelled. He obviously knew it, and it showed in his behavior. If he continued as he had, he would eventually graduate, receive his commission and be sent to the Fleet-an idea that made Thayer cringe. While she was cringing, her com buzzed again.

"Yes?"

"He's here, Admiral," said Thayer's secretary. Thayer was tempted to make him wait a while, but there was no point in that.

"Very well, send him in."

A moment later the door to her office swung open and a small young man walked in, halted in front of Thayer's desk, and saluted.

"Cadet Hinsworth, reporting as ordered, Ma'am."

Thayer returned the salute, but did not put him at ease.

"Cadet, we have been seeing a good deal of each other lately. Far more than I would like, considering the circumstances. Let me see, what is it this time?" asked Thayer.

"Perhaps the report from Captain Ridgway, ma'am?" suggested Alby Hinsworth.

"Oh yes," said Thayer, consulting her terminal. "When the order went out recalling your class from Home Fleet, Captain Ridgway had you off her ship within twenty minutes. The report she sent along makes some interesting reading, Cadet."

"I'm glad I was able to liven up your day, Admiral," said Hinsworth who was staring fixedly out the window behind Thayer's head.

Thayer glared at him. "It's hardly amusing, Cadet: Late for duty on six occasions. Improper uniform on four occasions. Sixteen separate complaints from you superiors on your lack of proper military bearing and courtesy. Unauthorized use of computer facilities on two occasions, and Captain Ridgway suspects at least four other anomalies in computer operations can be attributed to you, but has no proof."

Hinsworth continued to stare out the window.

"I would imagine that reversing the temperature controls in all the showers was your doing, wasn't it? I seem to recall a similar incident in the dormitory. I thought you had progressed to more sophisticated things, Mr. Hinsworth."

"It was more of a challenge on shipboard, ma'am," answered Hinsworth. "The showers are part of the environmental control system-much better security, ma'am."

"I see. All in all, just a typical couple of weeks for you, wasn't it? I suppose Captain Ridgway just needed more time to get used to you-as I have."

Thayer sighed. "Mr. Hinsworth, I received a message from Admiral Givens several weeks ago." The young man stiffened and he frowned. "She was asking me why, in spite of your good grades, you had not been given any cadet rank. I sent her your disciplinary record and a list of your demerits as a reply. I have not heard from her since."

Hinsworth said nothing, but Thayer thought she could detect a faint smile.

"I must admit that I am probably even more grateful than you are that the Admiral did not ask for further information, Cadet. I really don't know what I could tell her. What do you think I should tell her, Mr. Hinsworth?"

Hinsworth considered the question for a moment. "That my record speaks for itself, Admiral?" he said.

"Hmmph!" snorted Thayer. "No one could argue with that!"

"Mr. Hinsworth, I keep coming up with things to say to you that I hope will inspire you-or shame you-into shaping up, only to realize that I've already said them to you before. It is obvious that there is nothing I can do to influence your behavior. You carefully plan your pranks so that they are not serious enough to get you into real trouble. I keep hoping that you will change after you graduate, but it worries me. I'm not sure the Fleet can survive both the Peeps and an Ensign Hinsworth."

"It could be a glorious new chapter in the history of the Navy, ma'am."

"No doubt," said Thayer, not at all amused. "Well, we each have our destinies, Cadet. My destiny seems to be to fail utterly to turn you into a responsible officer. Your destiny is to spend another twenty hours on punishment rounds and be confined to quarters for the next week. I'm afraid you will miss the festivities in Landing because of that, but you seem to have no liking for what we do anyway."

"I'm sorry if I am making things difficult for you, ma'am," said Hinsworth. Strangely, it seemed to Thayer that he really was sorry. That in itself was exasperating enough that Thayer suddenly exploded:

"Then why are you doing this!? You could be a fine officer! If you don't want to be an officer, what the devil are you doing here?"

The young man in front of her seemed startled by Thayer's outburst. "I respectfully decline to answer, ma'am," he said after a moment.

Thayer frowned at him. I shouldn't let him get me upset like that.

"Mr. Hinsworth," said Thayer, regaining her composure, "you seem to think that this is all a game.I can assure you it is not. There is a war on. Men and women are dying as we speak. What are you going to do when the Peeps' missiles are blowing holes in your ship? Reprogram the damage control computer to make the damage go away? When your shipmates are bleeding to death next to you…" at this point Thayer backed her powerchair away from her desk to make sure Hinsworth could see her regeneration cast "…what are you going to do? Tell them a joke?"

Thayer studied the young man as she spoke and her anger turned to curiosity. For the first time, something she said seemed to be getting through to him. The sight of her cast had caused him to turn pale and he seemed visibly shaken and upset.

"Well, Cadet? What are you going to do?"

"I...I don't know, ma'am," he said in a near whisper.

"Then you had better figure it out," said Thayer in an icy voice. "Graduation is seventeen months away and you better have an answer by then, Cadet!"

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"That's all. Dismissed," said Thayer.

Hinsworth saluted and left her office. Thayer stared at the closed door for several minutes then turned back to her terminal.

What was I doing? Oh yes, the Bancroft.

Chapter Fourteen

Alby Hinsworth marched forty paces due south. He halted and faced about. He marched forty paces due north, halted and faced about again. Repeat until done.

He had been doing the same thing for nearly two hours.

Alby was in the courtyard outside the Provost's office and he was doing his punishment rounds. Two hours each day for ten days. He had gotten used to this particular form of exercise and he had lost track of how many hours he had put in during his two forms at Saganami Academy. Even so, after two hours his legs were getting very tired and his shoulder was very sore from the heavy pulse rifle he was carrying. It was the end of summer on the Island and it was hot. Sweat dripped from under his beret and he could feel more sweat trickling down his back. The cobblestone paving was making his feet hurt too.

Not much longer now.

As if in answer to his thought, a marine came out of a doorway and shouted: "Squad, Halt!" It seemed a little ridiculous to use the term 'squad' since Alby was the only one there. These jarheads love their little rituals, don't they? But the marine who had halted him was not just another jarhead. With all the time he had spent on punishment rounds, Alby had gotten to know quite a few marines, and none better than Sergeant Donna Lakner. As Alby stood there, she walked over to him.

"All done for today, Mr. Hinsworth," she said.

"Thank goodness!" gasped Alby, wiping sweat from his forehead onto his sleeve. "It's a lot hotter today than it was yesterday."

Lakner relieved him of the rifle. "It's supposed to be even hotter tomorrow. You picked a bad time for this, Mr. Hinsworth."

"Now, then, what difference does it make? This seems to be my lot in life."

Lakner looked at him closely. "You do spend a lot of time here, Mr. Hinsworth. You are picking up some bad habits, if you don't mind my saying so. You're a bit young to be a guardhouse rat."

"Hey, I'm learning a trade," said Alby with a lopsided grin. "Y'know, join the Navy, see the galaxy, learn a skill. Everyone should be good at something."

"Hehehe," chuckled Lakner. "Hardly the proper job for a gentleman, though."

"Exactly what I said to my grandmother before I came here," replied Alby.

Alby and Lakner entered the office off of the courtyard and Lakner logged Alby out. While she was doing that, Alby got a drink of water and mopped the sweat from his matted hair.

"It's a shame you are missing out on the big parade, today," said Lakner as she finished up.

"Oh, I don't mind," said Alby. "It's kind of nice with the island practically deserted like this. Every young man's dream: A deserted tropical island, a bottle of wine, a pretty young girl beside him-you busy later, Sarge?"

This time Lakner did not chuckle, she laughed out loud. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Hinsworth."

"Right, Sarge!" said Alby as he went out the door.

The Provost's office was at the western end of Saganami Island along with most of the older buildings. It was nearly three kilometers back to the dormitory from there, and Alby took his time. Normally there were shuttle buses running continuously, but not today. In theory he was confined to quarters, and should have proceeded directly back to his room, but there was not anyone there to notice if he came in or not. As far as he knew, he was the only cadet on the whole of Saganami Island.

Well before dawn, the cadets had started moving out and the howl of turbines on the small craft had kept Alby awake even though he was not going. Flight after flight took off and it seemed like each one was buzzing Alby's room before it departed. Just after first light, the last of them disappeared in the distance and Alby was alone in the dormitory. Patric and Anny and Helen had knocked on his door before they left to say good-bye, but he had pretended to be asleep.

They really think that I mind missing out on that stupid parade!

Alby wandered through the deserted campus. There were a few people around but they were all in the midnight black of the navy or the combat green of the marines rather than gray cadet uniforms. It seemed very strange, but rather pleasant to have the place to himself. They should do this more often. But it was hot, and his feet hurt so Albyeventually ended up back at the dorm.

He went into one of the lounges and turned on the HD display. Most of the channels were showing the parade and Alby watched for a while. The City of Landing was pulling out all the stops for Admiral Harrington. In addition to the cadets, there were marines and marching bands and all manner of displays celebrating Harrington's return. Huge crowds of people lined the streets. From time to time the cameras would show the cadets-midshipmen, I mean. In the convoluted logic of the Navy, as long as they were on Saganami Island, they were cadets. If they left the island on any official duty, they were suddenly transformed into midshipmen. It made no particular sense that Alby could see. Alby tried to spot someone he knew, but the images were too fleeting and there were just too many midshipmen. It really was pretty spectacular, and a part of Alby was sorry he was not there. I've done enough marching for one day! he told himself, but he knew he was witnessing something very special-and he was not a part of it.

But then I've never really been a part of any of this, have I?

As he watched, the camera zoomed in on Admiral Harrington who was riding in a horse-drawn carriage. Alby could plainly see the black eye-patch she was wearing and the empty left sleeve of her uniform tunic. He shuddered. That's what happens to people who do become a part of it. That, or worse. Alby got up and switched off the HD.

He took the lift up to the fourth floor and went into his quarters. The whole dorm was strangely silent. He stripped off his sweaty uniform and tossed it into the laundry chute. Going into the bathroom, he took a very long shower, letting the spray massage his aching shoulder. He came out of the bathroom with just a towel around him. At least I don't have to worry about offending Anny's sensibilities...

And then he yelped in alarm as he almost bumped into someone.

"Yow! Oh, it's you Mr. Scoggins! You scared me out of ten years' growth-and I'm too far behind on that as it is!" gasped Alby.

"I'm sorry I startled you, Mr. Hinsworth," said the white-haired man. "I was just tidying up a bit and I heard the water running. I didn't think anyone was still around here. Why aren't you in Landing with everyone else?"

Alby caught his breath and stared at the elderly steward. Mr. Scoggins was one of the civilians the Academy employed as servants for the cadets. Once they finished their first form, the stewards were provided to do basic housekeeping chores: laundry, cleaning, polishing and such for the cadets, so they could concentrate on their studies. Scoggins was responsible for half of 'C' Company. Of course, they really were not civilians, almost all of the stewards were retired navy or marine NCOs and they usually acted like they were still on active duty. Alby had grown up with a lot of servants around him, so having Mr. Scoggins about felt perfectly normal-except when he appeared out of nowhere like that!

"I'm confined to quarters," said Alby in answer to Scoggins' question.

"Again? It seems like you spend half your time doing that, Mr. Hinsworth," said Scoggins in a mildly scolding tone.

"And the other half walking punishment rounds, yes I know Mr. Scoggins. I'm afraid I'm not setting a very good example for an impressionable young fellow like you."

The old man chuckled. "I've done a few punishment details in my time, but you are starting a mite early."

"Why does everyone say that?" muttered Alby.

"Well, I don't want to disturb you," said Scoggins. "I'll tidy up somewhere else for now."

"Oh, that's all right," said Alby. "I'll get dressed and wait out in the lounge until you're done, Mr. Scoggins."

Alby got his clothes and quickly dressed. He then went down the corridor to the study lounge at the end of the building. Slumping into one of the chairs, he stared out at the glittering waters of Silver Gulf.

Even the stewards are bugging me about it! Just because I'm here they all expect me to be a perfect little tin cadet. Well, I'm not, and I'm not going to be!

Alby's mood grew darker by the moment. He normally kept a lighthearted and irreverent facade in place when other people were around, but right now there was no one around at all and he let the mask slip.

"Damn it," he growled. "Damn it!"

Every single person on Saganami Island was a volunteer. The cadets had to pass a highly demanding series of tests to win the right to come here. The instructors were the most talented and dedicated people the Navy and Marines could find. Even people like Mr. Scoggins had volunteered for their jobs. Everyone was here because they wanted to be.

Everyone except Alby Hinsworth.

He did not want to be here at all. He was not a volunteer, he felt like he had been conscripted, drafted, press-ganged, coerced, dragooned and shanghaied. A regular galley slave is what I am!

Oh, he had passed the tests, and he had sworn the oaths and he had signed his name on the dotted line, but he still was not a volunteer-not inside where it mattered. Alby had never wanted to join the Navy. He was here because he was forced to be. His poor behavior was the one form of protest that he could bring himself to do.

I should have just said 'no', thought Alby miserably, I should have told them what they could do with the Academy and their generations of proud traditions! But I was only thirteen. How is a thirteen-year-old going to stand up to a bunch of adults and say 'no'? Hell! Who am I kidding? If I had the chance to do it over again now, I still couldn't say 'no' to Grandma Givens! What a scary old bitch she is!

Alby swung his legs around until he was sitting sideways with his legs hanging over the arm of the chair. His stomach was growling. He had burned up a lot of calories today, and he had not eaten since breakfast. He was hungry, but he continued to stare out at the ocean. The gloom had been building in him for days and he could not shake it. We have our leaves coming up in a couple of weeks. Maybe I just need to get away from here for a while.

He had to admit that the Academy was not as bad as he had feared. The work itself was easy enough. Alby was very bright and he had a knack for seeing through to the core of any problem. He was able to solve the problems with a minimum of effort-which gave him spare time to get into trouble. He could see to the core of his own problem just as easily, and he could see several solutions. But he knew he did not have the nerve to employ any of them.

Maybe if the Academy had been as bad as it might have been it would have driven Alby to take one of those ways out. But it was not all that bad and there were even some things that he enjoyed. His roommates for instance. He really liked Patric and Helen and Anny. They were the first real friends he had ever had. Patric was not nearly as bright as Alby and Alby sometimes made him seem like an oaf, but in spite of that, Alby liked the huge, sincere farmboy from Gryphon. He liked Anny a lot too. Of course, everybody liked Anny a lot-well, almost everybody. If she had not been four years older than Alby-and twenty centimeters taller-Alby might have allowed himself to have a crush on Anny. But Anny and Patric were in love anyway, so Alby was content with just liking Anny a lot. And then there was Helen. Alby was not sure exactly how he felt about Helen. He liked her, but her intensity frightened him. He could not imagine anyone more different from himself than Helen, but at the same time he could sense a pain and loneliness in her that mirrored his own feelings.

Alby frowned. I do like them all and they are my friends. They like me too, but somehow that makes this whole situation even worse. They think I'm just a clown who refuses to take things seriously. They're like Admiral Thayer: they think I'm treating all this like it was a game. Damn! They are the ones who think it's a game! Thayer, Anny, Helen, Patric, my grandmother, all of them! Patric thinks he's one of Edward Saganami's star knights: fighting the Peeps for the honor of the queen and his lady fair. Anny's trying to be some sort of Grayson Joan of Arc. And Helen! Helen's the very Angel of Death, flying across the heavens with a flaming sword to smite the evil Peeps! What's the matter with them? Don't they understand this is for real? While they are marching around here, saluting each other and getting teary-eyed over the Academy's traditions, people are being killed out there!

Alby shuddered. The thought of being killed 'out there' scared him silly. To be blasted to atoms by the frightful weapons that mankind had created, or left drifting forever in the depths of space as a frozen corpse filled him with horror. Maybe even worse was the thought of losing bits of himself to the war, like Admiral Thayer-or Admiral Harrington. Alby knew he had one thing in common with Harrington-probably the only thing-he did not regenerate. To come home a cripple, even with the marvelously sophisticated prostheses they could make these days-no! Not for Alby Hinsworth! Alby was only fifteen T-years old. With Prolong he could expect to live for another two centuries at a minimum-and with likely future advances who knew how long? To be asked to give that up at his age just was not fair!

Alby hated his fears. He knew he was a coward, but he could not help it. It was not that he opposed the war. He knew that if the Peeps won, he and his family would be among the first people the Peeps stuffed out an airlock. No, the war had to be fought and it had to be won-but why did it have to be him that did the fighting? Manticore had over three billion people and scarcely one percent of them were actually in uniform. Far fewer than that were at the pointy end of the stick.

I'd be willing to serve! Some nice safe staff job-hell! I'd gladly work in a factory or the shipyards! But that won't satisfy them! Alby came from a family with a long tradition of serving in the Navy. They would not be satisfied with him safely behind the lines. Admiral Givens would make sure he was put where he would see some action so he could earn a few medals, and uphold the family traditions-and give the Peeps a chance to shoot holes in him!

Outside there was a faint rumble that quickly grew to roar even inside the well-insulated building. Alby recognized the familiar sound of a flight of Javelin Advanced Trainers. Looking out the window he saw the aircraft circling and preparing to land. The trainers had been part of the festivities in Landing. The parade must be nearly over, thought Alby. In a few moments he would no longer be the lone cadet on the island.

He looked up as Mr. Scoggins came by and told him he was done in their rooms. Alby got up and walked back to his quarters. He was more depressed than he had been at any time since coming to Saganami Island. He missed his roommates. I hope they had fun with the parade. Anny must be on cloud nine. I hope she actually got to see Harrington. The sincerity and dedication of his friends made Alby feel guilty. They think I'm one of them-just a little different. They don't know the truth. They would not be my friends if they did.

He went into his room and sat down at the computer terminal. He liked to spend his time prowling through the Academy computer network. He had gotten into a lot of places he was not supposed to and he was always looking for new locations that he could break into. Today, however, his heart was not in it. He checked around for a few minutes but then entered a familiar series of commands. After a moment he was staring at the main menu of the Academy Registrar. He had looked at this screen dozens of times. There were many times when he had thought about breaking in and altering his grades-lowering them so he would flunk out. But he knew it was too late now. After two forms, his grade records were too well established to change without everyone knowing. If he had started right at the beginning, lowering his grades a few points on a steady basis he might have managed it-providing he did not get caught.

But I don't really need to lower them do I? If I just break in-and get caught-it might be enough to get me kicked out. Why don't I do it?

Alby knew the reason. It was the same reason he did not want to be here: he was afraid. Why had he not just said 'no' in the beginning? Why had he not deliberately flunked the entrance exams? Why had he not flunked his courses? Why had he not done anything that would get him in serious trouble instead of his usual pranks? Why? Because he was afraid. Afraid of his parents, and especially afraid of his grandmother.

And I underestimated how determined they were to make an officer out of me!

Alby had treated the whole thing as a joke at first. They would not really do this to him. Surely they would see that he was not cut out to be an officer. Even after he got to the Academy, he felt certain that all of his demerits would show everyone that he was not suited for a naval career. But it had not. In spite of his huge number of demerits, and his terrible attitude, they refused to kick him out.

And they won't. No matter what I do! A chill went through Alby. He began to feel like a trapped animal. The situation was out of his control. He suddenly realized that even if he had the courage to do something seriously wrong, it still might not get him kicked out. With Admiral Givens' influence, they would probably cover it up somehow. Unless he walked up to the Queen and spit in her face at the graduation ceremony they were going to make an officer out of him, no matter what he did.

And then once they had that black uniform on him, his grandmother would see to it that he was put on a fast ship going in harm's way. And she would not be satisfied until the Peeps had shot him full of holes and his mother got that "sincere regrets" communications from the Admiralty!

Alby got up from his desk and threw himself face down on the bed.

Chapter Fifteen

Alby Hinsworth lay on his bed and looked at the wooden beams in the ceiling of his bedroom. This was his room, not the one the Academy was lending to him, his! He had stared at this ceiling in this room for nearly fourteen T-years. He had been away for less than two years. Why does it seem so strange now? This is where I belong, isn't it?

He got up from the bed and wandered around the large room. The afternoon sun streamed in the windows and through the lacy curtains, making shadow patterns on the floor. Everything was spotless and neat. Maybe that's why it seems strange: I could always mess it up faster than the servants could clean. Cabinets and bookshelves lined two of the walls. Alby opened one of the cabinets and looked at the rows and rows of toys, games, stuffed animals and all manner of junk. Everything was just as he had left it-well, it was considerably neater than he had left it, but it was hard to believe that the things had ever been his. It was all from some other life. He spotted one of his favorite toys and took it off the shelf. He stood there looking at it while tears welled in his eyes. Why couldn't they have left me alone? I was happy here.

He put the toy back on the shelf. He felt like he was in a museum instead of his bedroom. A collection of artifacts from a lost childhood. He shut the door and turned away.

Alby walked over to the window and looked out on the grounds of the Hinsworth estate. Carefully tended gardens and manicured lawns stretched to the distant woods. This is where he had played. He had run across those lawns with the warm sun on his face. He had torn up handfuls of flowers to give to his mother-much to her delight and the gardeners' anguish. This had been his home. Don't I belong here anymore? His gaze shifted to the clear blue sky. He imagined the blackness that lay beyond that sky; the hard motionless specks of the cruel stars and he shuddered. I don't belong there either!

The gloom that had infected him back at the Academy was still with him. In the two weeks between the parade and when the cadets left for their leave, he had been moody and uncommunicative. His roommates had wondered what was wrong with him. Now he was home and he felt even worse.

Alby had just flopped back on his bed to resume staring at the ceiling when there was a knock on his door. It opened and one of the servants looked in.

"Master Alby, dinner is in half an hour. May I lay out your clothes for you, sir?" asked the man.

"That would be fine, Nestor," answered Alby. He had known Nestor all his life and he suddenly felt more at home than he had since he arrived that morning. He sat up on the bed and watched the man bustle about, getting clothing from the wardrobe and laying it out.

"How are things going around here, Nestor?"

"Oh, very well, sir," said Nestor, looking up from his task. "Your parents are quite well, although I daresay they miss you. All of us do. But we are very proud of what you are doing, Master Alby."

"Why?" asked Alby in genuine surprise.

Nestor seemed as startled by the question as Alby had been by the original statement. "Why, sir? Well who wouldn't be proud to have a son at the Academy, sir? It is very brave what you are doing, Master Alby. Defending us from the Peeps and all."

Alby looked down at the bedspread and did not know what to say. Is everyone crazy but me?

"And how is the Old Man?" asked Alby to change the subject.

Nestor gave him that scolding look that he knew so well. "The Duke is doing as well as can be expected, sir, but his health is not what it used to be. He will be at dinner tonight though. I'm sure he is eager to see his grandson."

The servant finished laying out the dinner clothes. "Will you be needing me for anything else, sir?"

"No, Nestor, they taught us how to dress ourselves at the Academy."

"Indeed, sir? Imagine that!" Nestor grinned and then left the room.

Alby leaned back on his bed and kicked off his shoes. He slowly began to peel off his socks using only his feet while he stared at the ceiling again. So the Old Man will be at dinner. Oh joy. That should make this a happy homecoming! His paternal grandfather, Albustus Hinsworth, Duke of Somerton, was nearly as scary as his maternal grandmother, Admiral Patricia Givens, Second Space Lord. Caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea! At least she won't be here, too!

His socks finally removed, Alby sat up and started getting the rest of his clothing off. The clothes Nestor had gotten out for him were brand-new. Alby had grown a little while at the Academy and somehow they had gotten his new measurements so the clothes fit perfectly.

The Duke was the fifth Hinsworth to be named Albustus. Alby's father was the sixth and Alby himself was the seventh. Shows what sort of guts this family has, to stick with a silly name like that for so long rather than offend some ancestor! If I ever live long enough to have a son, I'm gonna name him Ralph!

The Duke was a very powerful member of the Centrist party but he was getting old. He had married late and Alby's father was quite young-young enough to be a third generation Prolong recipient. When the current Duke died, Alby's father could expect to hold the title for a very long time. Which would have been fine with Alby if they had not sent him to the Academy. The life of the idle rich would have suited Alby very well. But now, with a centuries long military career looming ahead of him-provided he did not get killed-the title of duke was a lot more attractive. It was an honorable way out of the Navy. But that too was denied him. Will they let me quit once the war is over? Who am I kidding? They'll keep me in until they find somebody that's willing to blow my head off!

Alby finished dressing and inspected himself in the mirror. He had never noticed before how silly formal civilian clothes seemed. His uniform was a lot more practical...

He checked the time and then left his bedroom and headed down the stairs. When he reached the foyer, he was about to turn and head towards the dining room when something caught his eye in the library. Walking into the room, he saw that there were two new paintings hung over the fireplace. He stared at them with a growing mixture of anger and horror.

On the left was a portrait of his Uncle Harry and on the right was a portrait of himself.

Both of them were in uniform.

Alby stood there clenching his fists. Damn you! This was all your fault! Damn you!

The painting on the left showed Captain of the List, Sir Harold Givens of the Royal Manticoran Navy.

It was the picture of a dead man.

Alby had scarcely known his mother's brother. They had only met a few times when Alby was very young. But four years ago Uncle Harry had gotten himself killed in some pointless battle around Trevor's Star.

And Alby's freedom had died with him.

The Hinsworth family had no tradition of service in the Navy, but the Givens family certainly did. His grandmother was the Second Space Lord and her ancestors had been naval officers all the way back to the days of Edward Saganami. Admiral Patricia Givens had two children. The son, Harold, had gone to the Academy. Somehow, Alby's mother had avoided that fate. She had married Alby's father and left the naval glory to her brother. But then, suddenly, her brother was dead. Alby had been only eleven, but he could still vividly remember his mother's grief. Alby's attention was solely on his mother at that time-it never even occurred to him that the fact that Uncle Harry had not married or had children should mean anything to Alby Hinsworth.

But it did mean something. It meant a great deal. It meant that Alby Hinsworth would now be the one to carry on a great family tradition. His name might not be Givens, but he was now the heir of the Second Space Lord and yes, of course, he would be going to the Academy as soon as he was old enough.

Alby was never even asked. He was told. And that was that. He did not know what sort of deal Admiral Givens had made with the Duke, but he was sure there was one. Both of them saw some advantage in sending Alby to the Academy, and Alby's wishes meant nothing. He was just a pawn in some game of power and pride and prestige that he did not understand.

Alby's gaze shifted from the portrait of his uncle to the one of himself. It showed him in his cadet uniform. The artist had made him look older and more mature than he really was. The expression on his face was serious and stern-Alby's friends would have laughed if they saw this. Alby would have laughed himself if he was not so angry: they had forced him into a mold that did not fit him and now they were trying to tell the world that he fit just fine! Lies and more lies! He was on the verge of picking up a small sculpture sitting on a table and hurling it at the painting when a voice interrupted him.

"Alby! There you are, darling! Oh dear! Someone left the doors open-I was hoping to surprise you with this later! Do you like it?"

Alby turned and saw his mother standing in the doorway. His anger melted at the sight of her. She always looks so beautiful. I've missed her so much-how could she have let them do this to me?

"It's very nice, Mother," he heard himself saying. "Uncle Harry looks fine. I seem to have aged a bit though."

"Artistic license, dear. I'm sure you will look more like the portrait by the time you graduate."

Make the reality fit the ideal instead of the other way round. That's exactly what they are doing to me, isn't it?

Alby wanted to be angry with his mother. Angry the way he was with all the other people running his life, but he could not. He loved her too much for that. Nevertheless, it was Constance Givens-Hinsworth who had really forced Alby to go to the Academy. The others had bullied or cajoled or threatened him, but it was his mother's quiet statement that she would be very disappointed if Alby refused to go that he could not fight. He could not stand the thought of disappointing her. So he went.

Why did she do it? Why wouldn't she stand up for me? I know she loves me. She sends all those letters saying how much she misses me. She's terrified I'll end up like Uncle Harry, so why did she do it?

Alby stood looking at his mother and for the first time really noticed how much she looked like her brother. He could even see the resemblance to his grandmother. Right now she had a faint smile on her face, but she looked troubled. Her hands were clasped together in front of her and they were shaking ever so slightly. She was wearing a necklace and a small cameo hung down on the breast of her suit. A tiny painting of Alby's grandmother stared out at him.

Alby had assumed that the others-the Admiral and the Duke and maybe his father, too-had pressured his mother to make him go. Now a new and shocking thought came to Alby. Maybe that was not it at all.

My mother loves my grandmother! She doesn't want to disappoint Grandma Givens any more than I want to disappoint her!

It seemed incredible that anyone could love that old tyrant, but he thought back to the times that he had seen his mother and grandmother together. It was true; they did love each other! The whole perspective of Alby's world seemed to shift under his feet. Givens had been the enemy, his mother should have been an ally, but now he was not sure. He felt a sudden pity for his mother. His anger at his grandmother should have been even greater, but he could not seem to focus it. Everything was confused.

Does anyone really have control? Other people are controlling my life, but still other people are controlling theirs! Does anyone, even the Admiral, have freedom to chose?

Alby walked over and put his arms around his mother. He rested his head on her shoulder and tried not to cry.

The dinner went better than he had hoped, but it ended about the way he expected.

His grandfather kept them all waiting for ten minutes before he arrived. Then he came in very slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked much older than the last time Alby had seen him. Alby had never seen much of the Duke when he was growing up. His political duties kept him in Landing most of the year and he only rarely returned to the estate in Somerton.When he did come home, he treated Alby kindly enough, but he was always complaining that Alby's parents were spoiling him and not instilling him with proper respect or discipline. In all fairness, Alby could not really argue with that judgement: the precocious and irreverent behavior that Alby's roommates had come to expect from him was not some persona that he had created just for the Academy! Even so, it had not endeared the Old Man to him-or vice versa.

The dinner itself was pleasant enough. The food was very good and reminded Alby just how plain the Academy food really was. A soup made from native Manticoran mushrooms led off and it was one of Alby's favorites. There was a salad and then the main course, a glazed east-borders pheasant. It was really good and Alby was glad the Duke waited for him to finish before cutting loose on him. During the dinner the Duke kept up a steady stream of conversation on the political situation in the capital. Since things were going quite well in that department, the old man was in a good mood. Alby's father did most of the rest of the talking although it was usually just in reply to the Duke.

Alby watched his father closely during the dinner. He noticed just how completely the Duke seemed to dominate him. Alby had never really paid attention to that before but it seemed obvious that his father was nearly as intimidated by the old man as Alby was. Alby's father was the heir to the duchy and it would not be too many more years before he inherited the title. It would have made sense for the old Duke to have given his successor some part to play in running thing to get him ready to take over, but the Duke had not. Alby's father had a few business concerns that kept him occupied, but the Duke allowed only his own hands on the reins of power. He wants total control of everything- including me.

As dinner was winding down and the servants were clearing away most of the dishes, the old man finally turned his attention to Alby.

"So, boy," said his grandfather, fixing his eyes on him, " how are you liking a military life?"

"Well, I prefer it to a military death, sir," replied Alby meeting his stare. Alby's mother inhaled sharply, but did not say anything.

"Meaning you don't care for it at all, I take it. That does not surprise me. You had it too soft growing up. If I'd been able to spend more time here, you might have grown up with some discipline-and a backbone."

"I thought lack of a backbone was a great family tradition, sir," said Alby. He said it with a steady voice, but Alby was trembling inside. He had never dared speak this way to the Old Man before.

"Alby!" whispered his mother in shock.

Alby half expected his grandfather to explode. The old man did have a terrible temper, but to Alby's surprise the ancient patriarch just chuckled.

"Heh, maybe you have a bit more than I thought."

"A backbone perhaps," continued the Duke after a moment, "but certainly no discipline. I had a conversation with Admiral Givens the other day, boy. She's none too happy with your performance at the Academy. It took her almost an hour of bending my ear just to touch on the highlights of your foolishness."

"I hope she did not leave out where I reprogrammed the elevators in the dorm, I'm rather proud of that one," said Alby.

Alby's mother and father were staring at him wide-eyed.

The Duke's expression turned colder. "No discipline, just as I said. Listen, boy, I don't give a damn what sort of pranks you play, but I will not have you making a laughing stock of our family! I'm hearing from other members of the Peerage about how their children are doing at the Academy. About how their children have achieved cadet ranks and other recognitions. When they ask me about you, what am I supposed to tell them?"

"Why don't you just tell them the truth, Grandfather? The whole truth. But I forgot, you don't do that sort of thing in your line of work."

"Albustus!" exclaimed Alby's father, "I won't have you talking that way to your elders!"

"Too late for that now, son," said the Duke with a grim smile. "If you'd trained him that way years ago-with a good dose of the strap thrown in-it might have made a difference, but not now."

"It's too late for us to do anything about this young rascal," continued the Duke. "But maybe the Navy can do what we cannot-not that they are doing much of a job either. Perhaps I should see about getting that commandant replaced. She's obviously not doing much of a job when it comes to discipline. Not a drop of noble blood in her either." Alby stiffened and glared at the old man. "And I've been looking at the people he spends his time with too, his roommates."

Alby was on the edge of his chair. He was totally focused on the Duke and the anger was building in him. He had expected a real dressing down, but this was going in unexpected directions.

"That Zilwicki girl seems like she would be a good influence, but those other two should probably go. Why they'd put some common lout from Gryphon in with you, I can't imagine. The Grayson girl could have been useful politically, but I understand she screwed up royally last form, she can't be much good. We need to get some responsible

members of the Peerage around you, some good officers, maybe that will shape you up."

Alby was slowly coming to a boil. He was angrier than he had ever been in his life. He stood up and pushed his chair back.

"What could you possibly know about good officers!?" he shouted. "Patric and Anny and Helen are better people than anyone sitting in this room! And Admiral Thayer, how dare you talk about her like that?! How dare you!? She's put her life on the line and lost her leg protecting your precious ass! Just because you can control us doesn't mean..."

"Sit down!"

Alby would never have believed that a bellow like that could come from those old lips, and he was shocked into silence. Both his parents were staring at him in disbelief and several of the servants had frozen as well. The Duke's face was a bright red and he seemed furious. Alby did not say any more, but he did not sit down either.

"Alby! What's gotten into you?" gasped his mother after a moment.

"Albustus!..." began his father, but the Duke cut him off.

"Quiet, both of you. Like I said, it's too late for us to teach him discipline, but I won't be spoken to like that in my own house. Go to your room, boy, and stay there." The Duke spoke in a quiet tone and there was a slight scratchiness to his voice like perhaps he strained something with that amazing shout. The redness in his face slowly faded.

Alby stared at him for a moment. He was tempted to say something more, but decided against it.

"Yes, sir," he said and he walked around the table and out of the room.

Alby did not notice the tiny grin on the Duke's face.

Chapter Sixteen

"Confined to quarters again," said Alby as he closed the door to his bedroom. "Well, it serves me right, I broke Rule Number One: 'Never stick your neck out for anyone.'"

Alby sat down on his bed. He was trembling. He was still angry and he was frightened, too. But there was a growing elation as well. I actually stood up to the old so-and-so! He was amazed at himself, but when his grandfather started saying those things about his friends-and Admiral Thayer-he just could not stand it. And what can he do to me anyway? He's already done his worst!

As he sat there, the anger faded somewhat and he was struck by the absurdity of the situation. Sent to his room! They wanted him to be a great naval hero and they sent him to his room! I can see the headlines now: "Admiral Hinsworth runs amok! Commands Home Fleet to vaporize ancestral home! Cites childhood incident!" Alby began to chuckle and before long he was laughing out loud.

Eventually he stopped laughing and looked around the room. He felt better than he had in weeks. His roommates would have recognized the gleam that was now in his eye.

"Lock me up will they? Nya-ha-ha! The joint hasn't been built that can hold Alby Hinsworth!"

He walked over to his desk, sat down, and fired up his computer terminal. He typed in a few commands and before long he had opened up the back door into the estate security system. He called up a security screen that showed a plan of the entire estate. He could zoom in anywhere and it would show icons representing every single person on the grounds. He had been breaking into this part of the system since he was nine years old-it had been great fun. He focused on the main house and he could see that his grandfather and parents were still in the dining room. Servants and security people were scattered about. His own icon was located in his bedroom. So far so good. He scrolled over to the Security Office. There were three people on duty, including Captain Renquist, the Duke's security chief. They had the same information available to them-except they did not know that Alby had that information, too. Now to plan his escape...

In theory he could just walk out. Once he took the Academy oath he was considered legally an adult and no one had any right to restrict his movements. In practice, they might try to stop him or at least deny him any transportation. At the very least they would assign a security person to go with him. Anyhow, it was a lot more fun to do it this way!

Alby made a few tentative attempts to break into the command section of the security software. He was not surprised that the codes and protocols had been changed since he left. He was not discouraged in the slightest. He went to the closet and got his compad out of his bag. A few minutes later he had linked to his terminal on Saganami Island. He then downloaded a certain decryption routine he had cobbled together out of some older military software. Five minutes after that, he was inside the security computer of the Hinsworth Estate. Tsk! Tsk! Grandfather, you need to update your security!

First to plant the decoy. He made a few adjustments to the subroutine that tracked his own movements. He saw his icon move to the bed. It would now stay there no matter where Alby himself moved. Next he made sure that the household sensors would not pick him up as an intruder. That was easy enough to do. He used the transponder on his compad to identify the person carrying it to the computer-and instructed the computer to ignore that person.

Now for transportation. He called up the garage. He entered a message to the attendant to have an aircar ready for Alby Hinsworth's use in ten minutes. All the authorization codes were correct. Unknown to the attendant, the normal copy of the order that should have gone to the Security Office disappeared into some black hole in cyberspace.

Finally, to cover the tracks. He did basically the same trick with the aircar's signature that he had just done to his own. As far as Security was concerned, the aircar would never leave the garage, and the aircar Alby would soon be flying would never appear on their screens.

Alby leaned back and grinned. Twenty minutes of work and he was ready to go. Best of all, there was no breach in the security of the estate-any real intruder would still be detected as usual. Wouldn't they be so proud of me: putting my education to such good use! He got up and quickly changed into some casual clothes. Picking up his compad, he walked out of the room. Using the security display to guide his movements, he went down the back stairs and was out of the house without being seen. A short walk brought him to the garage. The attendant had the aircar ready and waiting.

"Thank you, Karin," he said as he got in.

"My pleasure, sir. Where are you off to tonight?" said the attendant with a smile.

"Just a joyride, Karin, just a joyride."

A few minutes later he was in the air and headed for Landing.

Now that he was on his way, Alby realized that he did not know where he wanted to go. He was headed for Landing just because it was not too far away and he knew the city fairly well. He had a credit chip so there was no problem about money-except if his parents were really determined to track him down-and they would be-they could locate him the first time he used it. For that matter, once they discovered he was gone, they could do an override and locate the aircar as well. It was not like Alby really wanted to escape, but he was having fun and it just would not do to spoil the game now. So, the first step was to ditch the car.

He set the destination for a public garage in the heart of Landing. From there he could take public transportation wherever he wanted. It was a twenty-minute flight and towards the end of it he started to get a little nervous. If his mother went up to his room to talk to him and discovered that he was not there, they would be on his trail. He knew that they would not just ignore his absence. It was a dangerous world, and he was the grandson of a very important man-they would have to find him. But he reached the garage and there was no sign of any problem. Night had fallen and the city blazed with lights. He went to the public transit station and used the credit chip to get a transit pass good for a week-they could track him to here because of the car anyway, but it would be much harder to track him after this.

On the platform he looked at the map of the city and the various routes he could take. Where to go? He had a few relatives here, but he did not particularly want to visit any of them. Friends? None that he could just drop in on. Wait a minute...

He took out his compad and did a quick inquiry. He compared the readout with the transit map and made his decision. He walked over to one of the boarding area and waited for the next grav train to arrive. It was only a few minutes and he was zipping through the city towards one of the outlying suburbs. The city towers gradually gave way to smaller buildings and more open land. Ten minutes later he got off the train and took a lift down to the street. A few more minutes of brisk walking brought him to a walled compound of buildings. He came up to the entrance where a sign read:

Grayson Embassy

There was a small guardhouse by the entrance and a tough looking man with a gun was there to challenge him.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked politely.

"Yes, I'm here to ask for political asylum," said Alby with a straight face.

The man looked at him with an expression of surprise and confusion. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Sorry, that was a joke. I'm a friend of Deputy Consul Payne's daughter, Andreanne. She invited me here."

"I see. Just a moment, sir," said the guard. He picked up a communicator and spoke into it briefly and then waited for a reply. After a moment he put it down and turned back to Alby. "If you'll wait a moment, someone will be here to meet you, sir."

"Fine," replied Alby.

It was only a few minutes before the door opened and there was Anny, Patric and Helen!

"Alby!" cried Anny. "I did not think you would be able to come!" She stepped forward and hugged him warmly. Alby closed his eyes and hugged her back-it was the most welcome embrace he had ever received.

When they stepped apart, Alby exchanged greetings with Patric and Helen. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he had last seen his roommates, but they were still a sight for sore eyes. Patric and Helen were wearing ordinary civilian clothes, but Anny was dressed in traditional Grayson fashion. The narrow bodice and long flowing skirt was very graceful. It was also very different from Manticoran clothing. Alby was used to seeing Anny in her uniform, but somehow the dress seemed to suit her better, and he said so. Anny laughed.

She led Alby into the compound and he looked around curiously. The outside of the place had looked like a fortress: high walls and tiny windows. Inside, it looked much more comfortable. The buildings formed the outer ring around an inner courtyard. They rose four or five stories at the outside but then stepped down as they went inward, forming a series of terraces and roof gardens. The entire compound was roofed over with a transparent dome. There were tiny lights on the buildings and attached to the dome that bathed the compound in a gently glow. Small trees, flowers and hanging vines grew everywhere. Alby found the whole scene enchanting.

"Is this traditional Grayson architecture, Anny? he asked.

"Yes," replied Anny, "we have made a few changes, but many of the older structures on Grayson are very much like this. Before we could build big domes to protect whole towns, we built smaller enclosures. Usually an extended family would inhabit something like this."

Alby considered that. The deadly concentrations of heavy metals in Grayson's environment required that buildings be sealed very carefully. An arrangement like this would allow people to meet and work without going outside-and still escape the claustrophobia of living indoors constantly.

Anny led him to a set of steps that went up between two of the buildings. The steps wove around corners and connected to the terraces on either side as it worked its way upward. There were people on some of the terraces who greeted Anny as she passed. Finally, they came to a large roof garden that was perhaps three stories above ground level. Alby heard a number of voices and he suddenly smelled food cooking.

"You are just in time for the barbecue, Alby, good timing!" said Anny cheerily.

"The what?"

"It's like an outdoor meal, a picnic," said Patric.

They stepped onto the terrace and Alby saw that there were about a dozen other people there. Anny led Alby over to a man he recognized from a dinner at Commandant Thayer's house. He was standing over some sort of portable stove with a white apron tied around him and a strange looking white hat on his head.

"Father? You remember my friend, Alby Hinsworth, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. Hello, Mr. Hinsworth, welcome to our home." He wiped his hand on his apron and extended it to Alby. His tone was as warm as the heat radiating off his stove.

"Thank you, sir," replied Alby with a smile, taking his hand. "I hope I'm not intruding, and please call me Alby."

"Not intruding at all, Alby," replied Mr. Payne. "Always glad to see a friend of my daughter, and we always have 'way too much food at these things anyway! Anny, make our guest comfortable."

"Yes, Father," said Anny. She led Alby around to meet the other people. Anny's two mothers, Rachel and Ruth, Alby had met before, although he still could not remember which was which. They gave him friendly hugs. Anny's three sisters and young brother were new to Alby, but they greeted him warmly as well. The others seemed to be embassy staff and Alby was not sure what relation, if any, they had with Anny's family.

Shortly, Alby was seated with his friends with a cold drink by his side and chatting with them enthusiastically.

"You are certainly in a good mood tonight, Alby," said Patric.

"Yes, we were starting to worry about you there for a while," said Anny.

"Oh, I just needed a change of scene, I guess," said Alby, "And I think this is as good as I could ask for. Thanks for inviting me, Anny."

"It has been quite a grind, but we are over halfway done now!" said Patric with a smile. Alby did not really need to be reminded of that, but he was not going to let anything ruin his evening, so he smiled in turn.

"Come and get it!" shouted Anny's father suddenly. Most of the other people got to their feet and walked over to the tables that were loaded with food.

"I thought the Grayson women did all the cooking," whispered Alby to Helen.

"Apparently they do, except at barbecues," replied Helen quietly. "I'm not sure what the significance is, but it may be religious."

Helen's theory seemed to be confirmed when the Graysons, led by Anny's father, said a prayer over their food before they started to eat. Alby had already eaten dinner, but the smells from the food had his mouth watering and he was soon stuffing himself. Patric was putting away enormous quantities and even Helen was filling her slender frame. Alby especially liked the bison ribs with the tangy sauce they had been cooked in. They were incredibly messy to eat, but no one seemed to mind and everyone was soon laughing.

After the meal was over, the women cleared most of the dishes away (although there were still plenty of things to eat). Anny and one of her sisters ducked through a door and soon returned. Anny had a geetar-a different one from what she had at the Academy-and her sister had a smaller stringed instrument that she called a fiddle. The two started playing some lively tunes and most of the Graysons sang along. It was great fun. Alby noticed that a number of other people were looking down on them from higher terraces and enjoying the music. After a while, the tone of the music changed. Anny and her sister sang some songs that were slow, sad and heartbreakingly beautiful. Alby felt like he had fallen into some fairy tale that his mother used to tell him.

Suddenly the music was lively again and Anny called out to her friends: "Let's give them 'The Plebes' Lament'!" Alby, Helen and Patric looked at each other in surprise for a moment and then joined in with the irreverent (but fortunately not dirty) song that Anny and Jonathan Cresswell-Jones had made up during their first form. The other Grayson's seemed surprised at first but were soon clapping to the music. When they finished up there was a gale of laughter and applause. Anny and her sister bowed to the audience and the applause grew louder as the other onlookers joined in.

Anny came over and sat next to Patric. She was flushed and sweaty, but there was a gleam in her eye. Alby suddenly remembered that awful day, last form, when Anny was on the verge of resigning-what a change!

"I never told you guys," she said between gasps, "but the tune to 'The Plebes' Lament' is an old, old song called 'The Battle Cry of Grayson'. It goes 'way back to our civil war."

Things quieted down for a while and everyone just talked or ate, or both. It was very pleasant. Alby felt extremely content. He was getting drowsy when Anny's father stood up and said: "How about a little dancing?"

Dancing? thought Alby, but quick as a wink the furniture was moved aside and a space cleared in the center of the terrace. Anny pulled Patric to his feet and led him to the dance area. Alby looked around awkwardly. He was about to ask Helen if she wanted to dance when Anny's sister-the one who had been playing the fiddle-came up to him.

"Would you dance with me, Mr. Hinsworth?"

Alby looked into her face. She was nearly as pretty as Anny and had those same wonderful green eyes.

"Sure," he heard himself say.

They called it 'square dancing'. One of the other Graysons took up the fiddle and played and called out instructions at the same time. Alby never did learn what he was doing: the steps were far more complicated than the battalion drill that he had so much trouble with at the Academy. Even so, it was great fun and the others pushed or pulled him where he was supposed to go. His partner was named Abigail and she was very patient with his inexperience. Anny and Patric were dancing together, of course, and Helen was dancing with Anny's young brother who, in spite of being half Alby's age, could do the dances far better than he.

During a break between dances, Alby found himself sitting with Abigail. She really was very pretty-and just about Alby's age.

"May I call you 'Albustus', Mr. Hinsworth?" asked Abigail shyly.

Alby winced. "Please, 'Alby' is fine, Abigail."

"Alby it is then, and you may call me 'Abbie'".

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Alby did not know what to say. He glanced around the terrace to avoid Abbie's appraising eyes. He saw Anny and Patric standing by one of the food tables. There was something odd about them and he suddenly realized that they were holding hands.

"They are in love, isn't it wonderful?" said Abigail, following his gaze. Alby was startled and looked at the girl, then back at Anny and Patric.

"But Patric is Anny's 'male protector'. He's not supposed to...is he?" asked Alby in confusion.

Abigail laughed. "When a young, single, unrelated man is made the 'male protector' of a young, single woman, it is like a sort of pre-betrothal."

"What? Does Patric know that?"

"Do you think he would really mind?" replied the girl.

"Well, probably not," admitted Alby. "But what about your father? Isn't he worried...?"

"That Patric and Anny will have sex?" said Abigail with a sly look on her face. Alby blushed but nodded. "My father is a man of honor. He believes that Patric is, too. I think he is probably right."

Alby considered that and looked back at his two friends, still holding hands. Alby nodded his head again, Abigail was probably right about that, too.

"Patric's going to have to watch out for Anny, though," continued Abigail and her sly look became positively wicked. "When Anny decides she wants something, nothing much can stop her!"

"You mean like her wanting to go to the Academy?" asked Alby.

"Yes, that, too," said Abigail and her smile faded. "She was very determined-and very brave. I could never be that brave." She looked at Alby. "You must be very brave too, Alby."

Alby was startled and then he blushed. "No, if I'd been brave, I never would have gone to the Academy."

Now Abigail looked confused. "I don't think I understand."

Alby looked at this pretty girl sitting next to him. He had always kept his mask up when other people were around, but now he let it down. He told Abigail the truth-the whole truth. It took a while and they missed several of the dances. Alby hardly noticed. He really did not notice anything except those green eyes that Abigail kept fixed on him. He certainly did not notice Abigail's mothers watching them from a distance, nor the smiles on their faces.

When he finished his story, Alby looked down at the ground, embarrassed by what he had told this near-stranger. He was startled when a slender hand reached out to touch his own.

"I still think you are very brave, Alby," said Abigail. "It is not easy to fight your destiny."

"My destiny?" said Alby. He was startled, and he had a flash of Admiral Thayer talking about their respective destinies.

"Yes, everyone has a destiny. Some people try to fight theirs. That is hard and it makes them unhappy. I feel sorry for you, Alby Hinsworth."

"What do you know about my destiny? Are you Graysons fortune tellers too?" asked Alby, now totally confused.

"No," laughed Abigail, "but sometimes you can see someone's destiny if you look at them closely. I think my sister is destined to do great things. I think Patric is destined to love her. I could be wrong, but I think it is your destiny to be a naval officer, Alby. If you fight that too hard, it will only make you unhappy."

"So you think I should just give up and let other people run my life?"

"Someone runs everybody's life," replied Abigail with great assurance. "If not their parents or their society, then God."

Alby could see a dozen holes in her argument, but somehow he had no desire to argue philosophy with the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

"You may be right, Abbie," he said instead. "Come on, they are starting another dance."

Chapter Seventeen

"I don't know, Alby, it sounds awfully risky to me."

Alby Hinsworth was walking across campus with his friend, Jon Arlov. Jon and Alby were kindred spirits when it came to computers. Jon was not a close friend like Anny or Patric or Helen, but Alby spent a good bit of time with him, either in the flesh or on line. They had collaborated on a few of Alby's more elaborate computer pranks, but it seemed like Jon was not too keen on Alby's latest idea.

"Ah, but without risk, there is no glory," replied Alby.

"Without risk, I'd feel a whole lot better," countered Arlov.

"There's not that much risk to begin with, Jon," persisted Alby. "I can cover our tracks so no one will know who did it. Besides it will all be done from my terminal, there's no way they can implicate you."

"Yeah, but they are sure to suspect it was you and they know we hang out a lot," Arlov pointed out.

"True, that's the problem with keeping bad company, Jon!"

"But, it does sound like a real good gag," admitted Arlov with a small smile.

"Of course it is! And can you think of a more deserving target than Her Majesty and His Nibs?"

"I can't argue with that. All right, I'll think about it," said Arlov.

"Don't think too long; we don't have much time to pull this off," said Alby.

"Okay, I'll drop by tonight and let you know. Which entrance are you starting from today?"

"Four-B," replied Alby, taking the change in subject without missing a stride, "and you?"

"Six-D, so I guess I'll see you later. Good luck!" said Arlov.

"I make my own luck-see you, Jon," said Alby and the two cadets split up as they neared the huge structure looming in front of them.

Alby was reporting to HMS Bancroft. The grounded starship that the cadets called the HMS Landlocked was on the edge of Kreskin field on the opposite side of the harbor from the Cadet Dormitory. Looking carefully, it was possible to pick out the hammerhead shape of the ancient warship. A number of buildings and access gantries were attached at various points and these helped to disguise the Bancroft's true nature.

Alby came to gantry number four and took the lift up to 'B' level. This was a compartment that connected to one of the ship's airlocks. Two dozen cadets were already there with an instructor from the Engineering Department, Lieutenant Ewashen.

"Now that we are all here," said the Lieutenant eyeing Alby coldly, "I believe we are ready to begin." Alby stared straight ahead with a look of innocence on his face.

"You have all done this before, but I will briefly remind you of the objective of this exercise. We want you to become familiar with moving around inside a warship. During active service you may find yourself needing to get to remote locations quickly. It is important for you to be able to navigate inside a ship and find your way from point to point in an efficient fashion. The Bancroft may be old, but her layout is still basically the same as a modern warship. This makes her perfectly suitable for our purposes.

"In a few moments you will be sent into the ship, one by one. As you enter, you will find a destination point displayed on your compad. It will be your objective to get to that point as quickly as possible. When you reach the first destination, you will receive your next objective and so on. After approximately twenty different destinations, you will be directed back to the start point. Your grade will be based on how long it takes you to complete the course. An average time is about two hours. Each of you will have a different route and set of destinations, but the difficulties should be similar and any differences will be taken into consideration to adjust your final time. Cadets will be entering the ship from eighteen other locations, so you will be meeting a lot of other people on board. Are there any questions?"

"Lieutenant, if we get lost, you will send someone to rescue us, won't you?" asked Alby.

Lieutenant Ewashen glared at Alby. "For anyone but you, Mr. Hinsworth, I would imagine so. However, I would suggest that you don't get lost or you might never be seen again. But taking that into consideration, I think it might be best if you led off. Take your position at the lock."

"Yes, ma'am," said Alby. Some people just have no sense of humor.

Alby walked over to the open lock with his compad held ready. He looked over at Ewashen who was consulting her own compad.

"Ready...Go!"

Alby trotted into the ship, trying to look like he was in a hurry. He glanced at his compad and saw that his first objective was the forward chase missile battery. It was a fairly easy thing to start off with. Alby turned forward at the first intersection. He kept trotting until he reached a gangway down. Then he slowed his pace and walked down to the next deck. He briefly consulted the ship's layout and then headed aft until he came to the Officers' Wardroom. The door slid open when he pushed the entry button. He closed it behind him and then flopped down on a well-worn sofa.

"Gosh, this is grueling," he said to the deckhead. After a minute, he propped himself up with a couple of dusty pillows and looked at his compad. The Bancroft did not have an internal sensor net like a modern warship-or the Hinsworth estate-so there was no way for anyone to track his actual movements. There were, however, hundreds of transponders located throughout the ship. When Alby reached the specified location in the forward missile battery the proximity of his compad to the transponder would make a record that he had been there and key his compad to show the next destination. It was a nice, simple system that would allow the instructors to sweat the cadets to their hearts' content.

But Alby did not like to sweat.

He had been through the Bancroft on several occasions and had come out sweaty, dusty and with bruised shins and scuffed knees.

It did not take him long to find the flaw in the system. This time, he came prepared. All the transponders were linked to a single computer in one of the buildings attached to the ship. It was an old computer. An old computer that Alby had now broken into with his much more powerful compad. Alby clicked a few commands and then typed:

Execute: Rat Race

The ship schematic returned to his screen and after a few moments, the destination icon in the forward missile battery blinked off and a new one appeared in the after impeller room. A small note on the screen informed him that estimated travel time to the next destination was four point five minutes.

"Run, you poor devil, run," chuckled Alby. He watched for a while to confirm that 'he' was getting from destination to destination in a timely fashion and then he set the compad aside and closed his eyes. There was no transponder in the Officers' Wardroom, so he knew he would not be disturbed. He had a lot of thinking to do.

A month had passed since Alby returned from leave and he had been trying to figure out a lot of things during that time. He had spent three days at the Grayson Embassy after that first night. His parents had traced him there within hours, but had only commed to confirm that he was actually there and then left him alone. Alby had a wonderful time and he found himself spending quite a bit of it with Abigail. After the third day, his mother had commed him and let him know that his grandfather had returned to Landing and his father would be out for several days and would he please come home? Alby did go home, but he took Patric and Helen and Anny with him. He wished Abigail could have come along, but apparently that would not have been proper.

The foursome had nearly as good a time at the Hinsworth Estate as they had at the Embassy. Patric was clearly awed by the wealth of Alby's family and even Anny was impressed. Alby's mother was happier than Alby had seen her for a long time and she made his guests very welcome. They did laugh when they saw the portrait of him. Two days later, Patric left for a quick trip to visit his family on Gryphon and to Alby's amazement, Anny went with him. The next day Helen left to visit some relatives of her own. The rest of his leave was not as much fun, but it still was not bad. His grandfather did not come back and Alby and his father were civil enough to each other when he arrived.

Even before he returned to the Academy Alby was becoming troubled again. But it was not the Navy or even his grandfather that was troubling him this time. He was troubled by Abigail and her words to him that first night. He thought of her frequently and he realized that he was very attracted to her-and she to him. He dreamed of her in his free moments, but her words kept coming back to him and ruining the fantasy: You are fighting your destiny.

Again and again he heard those words: I think it is your destiny to be a naval officer. Was she right? He certainly could see no way out. If you fight it too hard it will only make you unhappy. She was right about that part at least. What should he do?

As Alby lay on the sofa in the Officers Wardroom he was still wrestling with the problem. The silence was broken briefly by the faint pounding of feet in the passageway outside, but then the silence returned.

Alby liked to think of himself as a realist. Whining and wishful thinking were of no use. Accept the reality of things and make the best of it. It was a nice philosophy except Alby realized exactly what reality he would have to accept.

Can I do that? What other choice do I have?

There was no other choice and Alby now realized that there never had been. From the instant Uncle Harry's atoms had been scattered across space, Alby's destiny was fixed.

All right. They've got me. And I'm stuck with them. But if they want Alby Hinsworth, they are going to have to take him as is! All of him!

Alby sat up and there was a strange half-grin on his face. He had accepted the reality and he felt better than he had in a long time. He would be an officer. He would even be a good officer, because he knew it was not a game and if he screwed up it would cost more lives than just his own. But he was not going to turn into that little tin cadet everyone wanted him to be!

A Hinsworth in the Navy! Let the Universe beware!

Starting with a couple of stuck up bastards from the Peerage!

Alby's grin grew broader as he thought about his latest victims. Not just some random computer malfunction that affected everyone equally. This time he was going after someone who really deserved it.

Sandra Bennett and Archie Lansdorff.

Alby had never liked them. Right from the start he had them pegged as trouble. They were perfect examples of the arrogant jerks that gave the aristocracy such a bad name. Alby was content just to ignore and avoid them-but then they started hurting his friends.

Alby still felt guilty about that time in the shower room when Bennett and some pals had cornered Anny. They had obviously deduced from Anny's behavior that she had problems with public nudity and they decided to take advantage of it. Alby had gone and gotten Sergeant Lakner, but he felt like he should have done more. He also felt guilty about staring at Anny with all the rest of them. But Gosh, she's pretty, I wonder if Abigail takes after her?-stop that! Anny had begged him afterward not to say anything to Patric about the incident-Patric would have gone berserk. Alby did as she asked, but he still felt uncomfortable at the memory of it.

And then there was the day that Anny almost resigned. Lansdorff had screwed up and Anny had to take the blame. Alby did not think it had been deliberate-Lansdorff was not that crazy, or that brave-but it was still Lansdorff's doing. And then when Bennett accosted Anny in the mess hall, Helen and Patric were ready to fight them. And I just sat there like an idiot! Not willing to stick my neck out, as usual. He felt angry at himself, but really angry with Bennett and Lansdorff.

Yes, Alby had a score to settle with those two, and he intended to collect-with interest.

Alby checked his compad and saw that his doppelganger was over halfway through the course. He had set things up to monitor the performance of the other cadets and adjust 'his' speed to be about average. He did not want to do anything to draw attention to himself. Fortunately, since every cadet had a different route, no individual would think it strange that they had not seen Alby on the course. If they all compared notes and realized that no one had seen him, they might take notice, but there was no reason for them to do that. Alby knew he was cheating, and the fact that he actually felt a little guilty over it showed he was starting to feel like an officer already.

It's a matter of military priority, he told himself, this is just a holding action, so I can make my real strike somewhere else-just like Captain Delbruck showed us!

Alby called up another screen on his compad. He had his strike almost ready to implement, but there were a few more details to work out...

Thirty minutes later he switched back to see how he was making out on the course through the ship. He still had work to do on his master plan, but that could wait for tonight. He really hoped Jon Arlov would come through with his piece of it. He could pull it off without him, but it would not be nearly as good.

His compad beeped at him and he saw that he was being directed to go back to the start point. He was supposed to be in Fusion Room Two, and it should take him about five minutes to make the journey back to entry Four-B. Alby got off the sofa and rolled around on the floor a little to get some more dust on his uniform. He then got up and went to the door. He listened, but there was no sound outside. He quickly opened the door, went through and closed it again. He then started running aft at a pretty good pace. He ran up and down a few gangways, encountering a number of other cadets as he did so, and then headed for the exit. By the time he got there, he was convincingly sweaty and out of breath.

"Hinsworth, one hour fifty-two minutes," said Lieutenant Ewashen as Alby trotted through the lock. "Not too bad, Cadet, I see you did not get lost after all."

"No, ma'am, I knew right where I was the whole time," grinned Alby.

Chapter Eighteen

"This is going to be great," said Alby to Jon Arlov as they approached Lewis Hall. It was one of the older buildings on campus and its architectural style was similar to the main house on the Hinsworth estate. A fair number of cadets were walking up the wide marble steps toward the large entry doors.

"I hope so, Alby," said Arlov. "But they are going to be mad as hell and you can bet they'll know who did it."

"You worry too much," said Alby.

"I have to; I don't have a duke and a space lord to bail me out if I get into trouble."

Alby looked sharply at his friend, a little hurt by his words. "Relax, Jon, I'll take the rap if it comes to that."

The pair followed the other cadets down the hall into a large auditorium. The seats circled a big HoloDisplay in the center of the sunken floor. Alby and Jon went halfway down the rows and then found seats. The auditorium could hold about a thousand and it looked like it would be standing room only before long.

They were there to observe one of the highlights of the Academy year: The Saganami Simulator Competition. The Academy participated in a number of competitive sports like rugby and soccer with universities around Manticore. In the past they had also had rowing and sailing and null-G lacross and polo. But the Simulator Competition was always the main event, and naturally it was limited to the Academy itself.

Every cadet spent a lot of time in the simulators, but some cadets were better at it than others. The very best were formed into teams that would compete against computer opponents and then ultimately against each other. The finale of the competition was a series of squadron and fleet exercised with the teams working in groups. This year's competition was not going to be as exciting as a lot of past years, because everyone knew who the winner was going to be before it started. Helen Zilwicki's team was a shoo-in for top honors. With her in the command chair and Anny Payne at helm, along with seven other very good people Helen had trained, there was no one who had a chance against them. Helen really was a marvel. Alby was a bit sorry that he had not worked harder and gotten into the competition. He was pretty darn good at the sensor station when he tried and he could have been on Helen's team. No point in worrying about that now, though.

With the first place prize already as good as taken, there was going to be a hard fight for second place. There were over a hundred teams in the competition and for the next week there would be sims running almost continuously. Those who were not competing were expected to observe. The auditorium in Lewis Hall was one of a dozen places around the island that would be displaying the competition. Alby wanted to see Helen's team in action, but he was also there for another reason.

Sandra Bennett and Archie Lansdorff were on one of the other top teams in the competition. They would be doing a sim against the computer in just a little while.

Alby was very eager to see that.

The simulations against computer opponents were the first stage. The scores each team received would be carried over and added to their scores when working against each other. There were six different computer problems and each team would go through all of them. New problems were created each year and none of the teams would know what they were up against until all the teams had finished with all six problems.

But this year, there was a seventh computer problem, and only two people in the whole Navy knew about it.

Alby watched as another team finished up their run. It had been a pretty standard problem with a heavy cruiser against a similar opponent. The first problems were usually easy ones to let the teams get over their jitters. The later ones got harder and harder and usually one of the six was nearly impossible. Alby double-checked the schedule that had been posted. Not much longer now!

The previous sim came to an end and the HD went blank for a moment. Then it showed a message in large letters:

Round One

Team Twenty-Six

Commander: Sandra Bennett

Tactical Officer: Archibald Lansdorff

Helm:...

Alby tensed. If everything was working properly, the instant Bennett's name appeared an unnoticed bit of software deep in the computer controlling the simulation should have gone into action. The scheduled simulation should now have been replaced with another that was not on anyone else's schedule. Alby felt a little sorry for the other seven members of the team that were listed. He had no particular grudge against them, but on the other hand, if they were pals of Sandra Bennett, it did not speak too well of them.

"Here we go," whispered Jon Arlov.

The HD came to life and there suddenly appeared on the floor of the auditorium the bridge of a warship. As far as the eye could tell, the people and equipment were really there, when, in fact, they were in one of the simulators in another building somewhere on campus. Sitting in the command chair was Sandra Bennett. That in itself made Alby smirk. Bennett was not bad in the sims, but Lansdorff was far better. He probably should have been in command, but Bennett had claimed the post of honor for herself. Alby snorted. That would have been like expecting Helen to give way to him if he was on her team just because of his exalted birth.

A message appeared above the display telling the audience that the team was commanding a Reliant class battlecruiser and gave information about its course and speed and other relevant data. Alby leaned forward and looked closely for one particular statistic...Yes! There it was! The ship's speed was listed as four hundred and ninety-two point three kilometers per second. If the original software was still in effect it should have been point two. Alby nudged Jon Arlov's arm and whispered:

"We've done it, old son! In a few minutes the fun begins!"

"Captain, message from flag," reported Bennett's communications officer. "We are to proceed on course Three-Two-Eight, mark Seventeen. Sensor network reports possible intruder."

"Very well. Helm, lay in that course. Takes us ahead at five hundred gravities," said Bennett coolly.

Let's see how long she stays cool! thought Alby.

For a few minutes everything was routine. Bennett's crew watched their sensors and kept alert, they knew something would be happening soon.

"Contact!" exclaimed the sensor officer. Alby could see a green icon appear on the tactical display to the left of the ship's course. He smiled; normally hostiles were displayed in red.

"An impeller source?" asked Bennett. Her tone was a little sharp, the sensor officer should have told her that without her asking.

"Uh, I'm not sure Ma'am, it's not showing on my gravitic sensors," said the girl. She was obviously confused and scanning her instruments for more information.

"If it's not on gravitics, how are we detecting it?"

"I...don't know, Ma'am, but it's bearing Oh-One-Five, mark Twenty-two, range thirty-one light seconds."

"All right," said Bennett warily, "Helm, come left and plot an intercept course."

"Aye, aye, Captain, turning to port," replied the helmsman.

"Contact lost!" said the sensor officer in surprise. The green icon was no longer on the display.

"It dropped off gravitics?" asked Bennett.

"It wasn't on gravitics, Ma'am."

Bennett was frowning. Alby wished he could see a close-up of her face.

"All right, that may have been some sort of decoy, said Bennett. "Helm, bring us back to our original course. Stay sharp everyone."

Before the ship had even started to turn back, the cadet on the sensors called out again: "New contact! Bearing Two-Eight-Three, mark Oh-Eight, range twenty-eight light seconds! Same reading as before, nothing on gravitics, but I am picking up faint energy readings." The girl turned to Bennett with a 'Did I do good?' look on her face. Another green icon had appeared, well off to the ship's right.

"Very well," said Bennett slowly, "We'll play the game for a while. Helm, bring us around and plot an intercept course."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

The bridge crew was getting nervous. Alby was a little nervous, too. Only a couple of people knew the real script for all the computer simulation problems. While they would be monitoring some of activities during the competition, they could not possibly observe all of them. Alby was betting that no one in the know was watching now. If they were, they would see that this was not the proper program-the plug might get pulled at any moment.

A minute or two passed and then the Sensor Officer announced again: "Contact lost! Same as before, Ma'am, it's just not there anymore."

"Something is odd," said Bennett. "Run an instrument check, they may have thrown a malfunction at us here."

"Instruments all show green on my-new contact!"

Another green icon had appeared. Alby leaned back and exchanged grins with Jon Arlov.

Ten minutes later, Sandra Bennett and her crew were chasing the eighth green icon that had appeared on their tactical display. The cadets were all getting frustrated.

"They're really hopping around, aren't they?" whispered Alby to Jon. Some of the other cadets in the audience were starting to talk among themselves as well.

"All right," said Bennett, as another icon appeared, "this is getting ridiculous. Launch a recon drone towards the target. Full active sensors. Keep it headed for that location even if the target disappears."

"Aye, aye, ma'am. Drone launched."

A new icon appeared on the display. It quickly left the ship behind and sped towards the mysterious green blip on the screen. A minute passed.

"Are you getting anything?" asked Bennett.

"No ma'am, nothing at all except those faint energy readings...wait a minute..."

On the tactical display, a thin pink line stretched out from the green icon. In only a few seconds it reached the icon of the drone. An instant later the line retracted and the drone was gone. A strange slurping sound came over the communicator. The bridge crew looked on in stunned silence.

"What the hell was that?!" exclaimed Sandra Bennett after a moment.

"I... I don't know, ma'am," said the sensor officer. "The drone is not registering anymore!"

"Tactical! What did that?" demanded Bennett of Archie Lansdorff.

"Ur...some sort of point defense system, Captain?" suggested Lansdorff.

"At eight light seconds? How is that possible?"

"I don't know, Captain," said Lansdorff.

"I'm tired of hearing that! I need some answers people!" shouted Bennett, obviously annoyed.

"Uh, Captain, the target is within our missile range now," said Lansdorff.

Bennett considered that for a moment. The green icon was not doing anything, but it had not disappeared like the others.

"All right, Guns, give it a salvo from the bow tubes."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," replied Lansdorff with a grin. "Let's see how they handle this!" He worked at his control board for a few moments and then four new icons appeared on the display. "Birds away!"

"Oh, bad move, Archie," whispered Alby to Jon Arlov. "If you shoot it, you'll only make it mad!"

The missiles moved steadily across the display, gaining speed with every moment. They neared the spot where the drone had disappeared. Then, in rapid sequence, four pink lines reached out, one after the other, and the missiles were gone. The strange noise came over the communicator again.

"Tactical! How is it doing that?!" shouted Bennett.

"I don't know, Sandra!" Lansdorff shouted back. "I've never seen any..."

"Incoming fire!" interrupted the sensor officer. "Twenty-four missiles inbound!"

A swarm of green specks had detached from the main green icon and were speeding towards Bennett's ship.

"Hard-a-port!" commanded Sandra Bennett. "Helm, keep our broadside to them, standby for evasive action. Tactical, countermissiles at your discretion, standby on point defense."

Alby had to admit that Bennett had responded well to the sudden threat-for all the good it would do her!

"Sensors! What do we have coming at us?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, ma'am," said the frazzled cadet. "Still no grav readings. Inbound are closing at One-Five-Two Thousand KPS and accelerating!"

"What!?" shouted Bennett, looking up at the display. "How?"

The missiles were closing at over half the speed of light. While such speeds were certainly possible, it would have taken quite a while to build up a vector like that and how could they still be accelerating with no impeller signature?

"Countermissiles going out," reported Lansdorff, "but it's not a good firing solution, Sandra, we're going to have a lot of leakers."

"Deploy decoys!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

The tactical display showed the incoming missiles closing rapidly on the ship. Countermissiles were going out to meet them, but the two swarms of dots passed through each other with no noticeable effect.

"Countermissiles are ineffective, ma'am," said Lansdorff. "With no grav signature to home on, these things are almost impossible targets. Point defense isn't going to have much of a shot either."

"Helm! Evasive action, now!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" replied the helmsman. There was no noticeable effect to the bridge being displayed in the HD, but the 'ship' was now gyrating wildly to throw off the enemy missiles.

The tactical display zoomed in on the ship's icon. The green dots came swooping in at a speed that seemed incredible at this scale. Point defense was firing, but again with no effect. Conventional missiles would have detonated at this point, but these missiles came right on in.

The bridge suddenly shook with the impact of the hostile missiles. The cadets were shaken and tossed against the shock frames of their chairs. There was a distinct 'splatting' sound and large green splotches appeared on the tactical display.

"Damage Control! Report status!" shouted Sandra Bennett.

The Damage Control officer looked at his board. "No damage, ma'am," he said in a bewildered tone.

"What?!"

"N-no damage reported on my board, ma'am," repeated the cadet.

"Well then what's that?" demanded Bennett, pointing to the tactical display. The green splotches were slowly dripping down the screen.

"Nice job, Jon," whispered Alby to the cadet sitting beside him. Jon Arlov had done most of the graphics programming for the bogus simulation. Alby's job had been to get the basic sim ready and then do the hard part: get it into the system. Alby had almost been stymied in that task. With the level of competitive spirit that this contest generated, the planners were extremely careful about the software they used. The computer scenarios that were created were kept very well guarded and the only information given out beforehand was the type of ship and basic course and speed data so the cadets would not go in to it completely cold. Alby quickly realized that he would never be able to get to the scenario software and alter it. Fortunately, he also realized that he did not have to. Instead of altering one of the official scenarios, he just had to make up his own and then get the administrative software for the competition to substitute his for the official one-at the proper time. That had proved to be a lot easier. Creating the scenario was not hard either. Scenarios from earlier years were kept on file and anyone could access them. Alby just selected one that used the same type of ship as he wanted and then added his own special touches.

On the bridge of Sandra Bennett's ship, chaos reigned. Bennett was shouting and cursing at her crew to get her some answers. She was firing off missile salvoes at the mysterious green icon, but each salvo was being swallowed up as it approached the target. More enemy missiles were pelting her ship; she and her crew were being shaken back and forth and the green splotches on her screen were making it hard to read the tactical displays.

"Ma'am, I've run a comparison on the enemy missiles against known ordinance profiles and I've gotten a match," announced the sensor officer.

"What have you got?" snarled Bennett, clearly at her patience's end.

"Uh, I'm putting it on screen, ma'am." The cadet sounded dazed.

On the main display, superimposed on the dripping green splotches, was a technical read-out that could not be found in any other RMN database. A schematic drawing of a strange lumpy object was followed by the designation:

"Mk. XXI Frog"

"Frog? What the hell is a frog?" asked Bennett.

More data followed. It was all gibberish except for the place of manufacture:

"Earth"

"Solarian equipment?" said Bennett in amazement. "That might explain some of this! Some new type of stealth gear to mask out grav signatures! But what the hell kind of warheads are on these things?"

Some of the cadets in the audience in the Lewis Hall auditorium were starting to chuckle. They were beginning to catch on to what was happening, but Bennett and her crew were too keyed up to realize the obvious.

"Jon, the secret to successful humor is to know when to wrap things up," said Alby to his friend. "I think it's about time for the punch line."

"The enemy ship is moving towards us!" shouted the luckless sensor officer. The splotches on the tactical display had cleared up enough to show that the green icon, which had sat placidly through the whole engagement, was now moving towards them at an impossible speed.

"Target closing at...one point two Cee!?" sputtered the cadet.

The bridge crew gazed at the tactical display in astonishment. The green icon was not just moving towards the icon that represented their ship, it was growing! Alby could see that Sandra Bennett's mouth was hanging open. The green icon grew until it covered the whole tactical display. It was slowly changing shape, metamorphosing into something that resembled the earlier missile schematic: a strange lumpy shape with legs and two bulbous eyes.

And a mouth.

The mouth opened up and a huge pink tongue shot out directly at the frozen cadets. At this point the real-time display of Sandra Bennett and her bridge crew was seamlessly replaced by a masterpiece of computer graphics that Jon Arlov had created. The bridge and its crew seemed to be sucked into the green creature's mouth. Convincingly realistic screams came from the fake crew and the last thing that was heard was a voice that sounded like Sandra Bennett's screaming: "Abandon Ship!" For a few moments the creature-the only thing remaining on the HD display-sat there. Then the tongue came out again to lick the creature's 'lips'. One of the huge eyes winked at the gaping spectators. The creature gave a mammoth belch and then vanished. Replacing it on the display were the words:

Team Twenty-Six

Final Score:

Frog: 1

Bennett: 0

A few seconds of stunned silence filled the auditorium and then absolute bedlam broke out as the cadets howled with laughter.

"Oh, nice touch, Jon!" shouted Alby into his friend's ear.

"I thought you'd like that," replied Arlov.

If everything was working properly, Alby's software was erasing itself from the computer system and hopefully leaving no trace. At the same time, a copy of the HD record of this 'simulation' was being sent to every RMN ship and installation in the Manticore star system.

The cadets in the auditorium were on their feet applauding now, and more than a few faces were turned in Alby's direction. Alby kept a poker face but whispered to Arlov: "That's the only problem with this: no matter how appreciative the audience, you can't take a bow!"

Chapter Nineteen

"Some people just can't take a joke," muttered Alby Hinsworth. He looked cautiously around the corner of the building. No one was in sight. Good. Alby came out from behind the bushes and walked quickly along the path.

He was a hunted man.

It had been two weeks since The Great Simulator Scam and the uproar had not died down. Alby realized now that when he conceived his idea, he was still not thinking like a naval officer. To Alby it had just been a great joke at the expense of some people that needed to be taken down a notch or two. He quickly found out that other people felt differently. Nope, no sense of humor at all.

Captain Arthur Wagner of the Tactics Department had been furious. The Simulator Competition was his moment of glory each form and to have it sullied like this was just unacceptable. The competition had gone on to its conclusion, but no one was taking it too seriously anymore. Helen's team had won, as expected. Bennett's team had been allowed to start over from scratch, but they had been so rattled by their experience that they finished in the lower third. Performance in general was down because everyone seemed to be looking over their shoulders for nasty green icons.

Wagner had not been the only one upset among the faculty. The Computer Department was in turmoil over how their security could have been so badly compromised. Naturally Admiral Thayer had gotten involved, too. However, Alby's precautions had worked perfectly and there was no trace left of what he had done. Not one shred of evidence remained except the HD recording-and the eye witness accounts of about eight thousand cadets.

Alby fully expected to be hauled up before the Commandant and questioned. He dreaded that because he really did not want to lie to Admiral Thayer, but he certainly did not want to tell her the truth either! Alby found it rather ironic: now that he had decided to give in and become an officer, he had finally done something serious enough to possibly get him kicked out. To his surprise, he had not been summoned by the Commandant, even though he surely was the prime suspect. For a week Alby lived in anticipation of that summons-but it did not come.

Alby kept his ears open for rumors and scanned the official navy publications for news. He even quietly asked his mother if she had heard anything from his grandmother. From the things he started to hear, Alby slowly came to realize just how powerful a combination his parentage really was. The Academy had no hard evidence. Without it, there was no way they were going to accuse the grandson of a duke and the Second Space Lord.

Alby reached the end of the row of buildings and looked around the next corner. There were a few cadets walking along the path, but fortunately, not the ones he was worried about. If he could make it a bit farther he would make it to the shuttle bus.

When he realized that there would be no official repercussions, Alby should have breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, he could not because there were still plenty of unofficial repercussions to deal with.

Nine of them to be exact.

Sandra Bennett and her team were kept busy in the simulators for another week after Alby's scam, but when they finished they were-as Jon Arlov predicted-mad as hell.

Alby knew they would be mad, but not how mad. Once again, he had not been thinking like a naval officer. He had made them look foolish, but so what? Everyone looked foolish now and then. Granted, they had been made to look foolish in a rather spectacular way and it would hurt their pumped up egos more than most people, but still no real harm done, right?

Wrong. Too late, Alby realized that reputations were at stake. Sandra Bennett, Archie Lansdorff and their friends had been marked for life. No matter what they did from now on, no matter how successful their careers became, they would always be remembered for just one thing:

Getting 'frogged' at the Academy.

Even Alby could now see how that might tend to tick them off a little.

As a result, Alby was a hunted man. The nine 'frogged' cadets had vowed revenge and Alby had no doubt about the form that revenge would take. If the regulations had allowed it, Alby felt sure that all nine would have challenged him to a duel. Dueling was legal on Manticore but fortunately Alby had a legitimate excuse to avoid that route to the cemetery. Considering how poor a shot Alby was, eight of his challengers would have been dreadfully disappointed.

That still left Bennett and company with less official means of exacting vengeance: like beating him to a bloody pulp. They would do it too, they would risk the fact that Alby's grandparents were far more exalted than their own, to avenge their honor. Alby's only hope was to avoid them until they cooled down-if they ever did.

They could not just walk up and attack him in public, especially if there were any commissioned officers around. Nor could they get past his roommates in the dorm. Alby was safe while he was in class or in his room. It was getting from one to the other that left him vulnerable. Alby's roommates had been looking out for him and that had helped. Much to his surprise, he had become something of a hero to Second Battalion and a number of people he hardly knew were suddenly helping him out too. Unfortunately, a few Third Battalion people were helping out Bennett. Alby did not know who he could trust. The last week had been far more exciting than Alby would have ever wanted. They had almost caught him twice, but something had saved him each time.

Alby was sneaking behind another building with only a hundred meters to go to reach the shuttle stop when he heard voices. He froze and shrunk against the building: the voices sounded all too familiar.

But they were not talking to him.

"Where do you think you're going, Arlov?" said someone that sounded like Archie Lansdorff.

They caught Jon! Oh no!

Alby crept to the edge of the building and carefully peered around the corner. In a small courtyard between two of the buildings were a group of cadets. It was the 'Frogged Nine' all right. They were crowded around someone else that Alby could not see.

"What do you guys want?" said a scared voice. It was Jon Arlov.

"We want your buddy, that scum Hinsworth. But he's been hiding from us, so you will have to do instead," said Sandra Bennett.

An icicle went through Alby. Arlov was a commoner. Sandra and her chums could beat him to within an inch of his life and Jon would not even dare accuse them of anything. Alby looked around. He could just sneak off and not be seen. Maybe he could reach the Provost Office and bring back help...

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Arlov. He was clearly terrified-he knew what could happen to him too.

"Well, maybe this will remind you!" said Lansdorff. There was a thud and a groan. Then another. And another. Alby looked on in horror. The ring around Arlov opened up a little and Alby could see him. They had not really started in on him yet. They were just cuffing him around a little-just getting warmed up. Arlov was not much bigger than Alby-and there were nine of them.

"S-stop! Please! I haven't done anything!" pleaded Arlov between blows.

"The next time you see your pal, you can tell him that!" said Bennett. She stepped up and kneed Arlov in the belly.

"Leave him alone!" shouted a voice.

The cadets all looked up in surprise. No one was more surprised than Alby Hinsworth-because it was his voice.

Alby walked into the courtyard towards the group of cadets. Their looks of surprise turned to evil smiles.

"If I'm the one you are looking for, here I am! Leave him alone!" Alby was more frightened than he had ever been in his life, but somehow his voice was steady and his legs kept him from falling.

"Well, well! The Master Prankster comes out of hiding!" said Sandra Bennett in delight. The circle of cadets opened up to face Alby. Jon Arlov was on his knees in front of them.

"I just wanted to pay my respects to the Frog Princess and her eight tadpoles," said Alby. If I'm going to get the crap beaten out of me, I may as well get in a few licks!

"You bastard!" snarled Lansdorff, slowly moving forward. He seemed to expect Alby to run and was surprised when he did not.

"Nope! 'Fraid I can't claim that honor. I've always kind of wondered about you though, Archie."

Lansdorff cursed and swung at Alby's head. Alby turned and hunched over. The blow caught him on his shoulder and sent him sprawling. Ow, that hurt. Serves me right, I violated Rule Number One again. A strange sense of resignation came over Alby. He had always hated the thought of fighting. He had done well enough in the combat training because he knew he could not really get hurt. Now he knew he was really going to get hurt, but it did not really bother him much. It was like that day onboard the Bancroft. He had accepted his destiny and did not try to fight it.

The nine cadets reformed their ring around Alby. Two of them tossed Jon Arlov over next to him.

"Sorry to get you mixed up in this, Jon," said Alby. He had no real hope that they would let Jon go.

"Oh, that's okay, Alby, I guess it was worth it," gasped Arlov.

"Yeah, maybe it was, at that."

"You won't think so after we get through with you!" said Sandra Bennett. She walked up and kicked at Alby's face. He tried to turn away and most of the blow missed him, but it still mashed his lips against his teeth. Alby tasted blood. He tried to think of some good comeback, but he was a bit dazed.

"Stand them up!" said Bennett.

Rough hands seized the pair and they were hoisted to their feet. Sandra Bennett and Archie Lansdorff closed in on them with their fists poised to strike. But their twisted grins froze on their faces as a shadow fell across them. The hands holding Alby loosened and something grabbed the back of his tunic. Alby and Jon Arlov were lifted into the air with a squawk of alarm.

Alby suddenly found himself looking into the face of Patric McDermott. Patric had Alby in one huge hand and Jon Arlov in the other.

"Hi, Alby," said Patric, "I was looking for you. Hi Jon," he said turning his head to face Arlov.

The other cadets were startled but soon recovered. The nine faced them with angry expressions.

"Beat it, plowboy!" said Lansdorff. "This is no concern of yours!"

Patric gently set Alby and Arlov on their feet. "When you start beating up a friend of mine, I'll make it my concern," said Patric quietly.

"Get out of here, Cadet," said Sandra Bennett, warily eyeing the large man in front of her, "that's an order."

"Sorry, Cadet-Sergeant, I can't do that unless I take them with me," said Patric.

"All right, it's your funeral, you base-born idiot! Just the kind of odds I like: nine against three!"

"Four!" said Helen Zilwicki, stepping around the corner.

"Five!" said Andreanne Payne, following right behind her.

Now Sandra Bennett and her friends were taken back. The odds were not nearly so good and they all knew Helen's reputation in the martial arts. And, she was a cadet-officer. They gave back before her as she stepped in front of Alby and Patric.

"Arlov, get going, that's an order. We'll handle it from here," said Helen quietly.

Jon Arlov looked from face to face, unsure of what to do. Helen gestured to the exit from the courtyard with a jerk of her head. Arlov hesitated for a second and then did as he was told. By the time he reached the exit, he was running.

"That's it Hinsworth! Hiding behind your friends again!" snarled Bennett, furious that her prey was going to escape her. "And you, Zilwicki, hiding behind your rank-and that famous mother of yours!"

Oh, oh, Sandra, I think you just made a big mistake... thought Alby.

Helen was silent for a moment. She stepped over to Alby and touched his face lightly. It stung and her hand came away with blood on it. She took a few steps towards Bennett.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about my rank, Sandra," said Helen very quietly, with a tiny smile, "You can always claim it was self defense!"

Helen was suddenly flying through the air and her foot slammed solidly into Sandra Bennett's stomach.

Bennett was thrown into two of her friends and they all went down in a heap. Helen spun around, and before anyone could react, did the same thing to Archie Lansdorff.

"Still haven't learned to keep a safe distance, have you, Archie?" said Helen.

Then she tore into the rest of them-and Patric, Anny and Alby were right behind.

Alby had no clear memory of how the rest of the fight went. He flailed away with fists and feet and he thought that most of his blows hit the right people, although at one point Patric did warn him to be careful. Helen and Patric did most of the fighting, but it was still not easy. Helen could probably have killed or crippled all of them in a few moments, but she was handicapped because she did not really want to kill or cripple anyone.

Alby dished it out, but he took a pretty good pounding, too. He was not sure how Anny made out, but at one point he saw her standing over Sandra Bennett. Bennett was sitting on the ground and shrieking in horror as blood poured out of her obviously broken nose. Anny looked at Alby with an expression of absolute delight.

"Sergeant Lakner was right: it's not blue!"

Then someone plowed into Alby and he ended up on the ground. He was being punched and kicked and he tried to fight back as best he could. Suddenly the attack stopped and he saw Patric towering over him with a cadet in each hand. He clonked their heads together and dropped them.

It seemed to go on for hours, but it could not really have lasted very long. Helen probably took down most of them. Patric was not a particularly skilled fighter, but anytime one of those huge fists connected with a person, that person went down and often did not get back up.

Finally, Anny pulled Alby to his feet and he saw that all of their opponents were on the ground, groaning and clutching themselves and not fighting back anymore. Helen and Patric were standing in the midst of them, battered and bloodied, but with smiles of triumph on their faces.

Just then, a squad of Marines came around the corner with stun guns ready. Jon Arlov was with them. His look of worry turned to joy when he saw the situation. As luck would have it, Sergeant Donna Lakner was leading the detachment.

"Mr. Hinsworth, you are going to give me gray hair!" she said in exasperation.

Alby tried to grin, but his mouth hurt too much. He saw the smile leave Helen's face as she looked around. She walked over to Lakner.

"Sergeant, we are placing ourselves under arrest and putting ourselves in your custody."

Suddenly, Alby did not feel like grinning at all.

Chapter Twenty

Alby Hinsworth was waiting to see the Commandant-again. This time, however, he was not alone. A dozen other cadets sat in the room with him, waiting to be summoned. Helen, Patric and Anny sat next to him and across the room were Sandra Bennett and her gang, glaring at him. Two marines were also there, their holstered stun guns and stern expressions ensured that there would be no trouble. Despite all the nasty looks, Alby did not think there was likely to be any more trouble. Neither group looked battleworthy at this point.

It was three days since the fight. They had spent the first night in the brig. Alby had not been aware that the Academy even had a brig, and from the look of the dust and the amount of time it took the marines to find the codes for the cell doors, it had not been used in quite a while. They put Alby and his friends in one cell and Sandra's gang in another. Actually, they had put five of them in another cell. The other four, including Bennett and Lansdorff had spent the night in the infirmary. Alby was very glad that Jon Arlov had not been brigged as well.

A pair of medics had come to the brig to treat their injuries. The Quick Heal was doing its usual efficient job, but the damage caused by the fight was still evident on every face. Well, Patric's face is hardly scratched, another advantage of being tall, thought Alby, but he knew that Patric's torso was a mass of bruises. Helen had a few bruises on her face but had gotten off the lightest despite doing most of the fighting. Anny had an amazing shiner on one eye and other assorted cuts and bruises. Alby's mouth was still pretty swollen and he only had a few spots that did not ache to some degree.

The damage to the opposition had been a bit more severe. Sandra Bennett had a bandage over her newly repaired nose and two eyes that were even blacker than Anny's. Archie Lansdorff's puffy mouth was missing a tooth and he had two cracked ribs. The rest of them had a large collection of cuts, scrapes and bruises along with more cracked ribs and several broken fingers.

After the first night in the brig, they had all been confined to quarters. This was a close confinement, which meant they could not even leave to attend class. Alby gathered that there had not been a fight like this at the Academy in ages.

For two days they had been left to stew. They could study and even sit in on classes via their computers, but they were all nervous and distracted. Helen tried to put on a brave front, but Alby could tell even she was nervous. Fighting was a serious infraction of the Academy rules. Alby did some research, and learned that in the past, cadets had even been kicked out if it was bad enough.

Alby exchanged a number of messages with his mother and she kept him informed. The parents of Sandra's gang raised a big stink over the incident, but Alby's grandparents rallied to Alby's defense. It was odd: only a few months ago Alby would have welcomed this situation and would have wanted his grandparents to throw him to the wolves. But not now. Something had changed inside him.

After the second day, Alby was pretty sure that the worst of the situation had been defused-at least for him. Then, he started worrying about his roommates. They were not from noble families. His grandfather's words about them haunted him. Would he sacrifice Alby's friends to appease the ones who wanted his head?

If his friends were seriously punished-or even kicked out-because of him, Alby would never forgive himself. They had come to his rescue, and now they might have to pay a terrible price. Alby looked fondly at the three young people sitting next to him. He had liked them from the start, but he refused to make an emotional commitment to them. He had worked with them, helped them, gotten help from them, and had fun with them. But he had never made that commitment to them. To do so would have been to make a commitment to the Navy-something Alby desperately did not want to do.

But they had made that commitment to him. They had stood by him, fought next to him, and they would willingly pay whatever price that commitment might cost them. What have I done to earn that sort of loyalty? What can I do to repay them?

The door opened and an officer stepped in. "Cadets Zilwicki, Payne, McDermott and Hinsworth, please come with me," he said.

They followed the officer down a corridor and into another room. Usually Alby had met with Admiral Thayer in her office, but not this time. The room was set up with a single long table at one end. Admiral Thayer, her adjutant, Commander Semancik and the Provost, Lt. Commander Ferraro, sat behind it. The cadets were instructed to stand facing the table. They did so and saluted. Alby felt more nervous than before-this looked like some sort of court martial!

Thayer returned their salutes and let them stand at ease. She sat frowning at them for several moments.

"Cadets," she began, "this is an Academy disciplinary tribunal. Its purpose is to evaluate the seriousness of your offenses and pronounce punishment. You will not be provided with council and any sentence may not be appealed."

Alby swallowed. Oh God! I'm in Thayer's hands! He started to regret all the trouble he had caused for her in the past. Still, Helen was her goddaughter-Helen had never mentioned that, but Alby knew it was true. That gave him hope that his friends might be spared.

"If you find the stated conditions unacceptable," said Thayer, "you may demand a formal court martial. Counsel will be provided and all provisions of the Military Code will be adhered to."

There was something in the way Thayer said that last sentence that put a chill in Alby. He looked in her eyes and got the impression that it would not be a good idea to request the court martial!

"Will you accept the judgment of the tribunal?"

"Yes, Admiral," said Helen instantly. She glanced to either side at Alby and the others and made a tiny motion with her head.

"Yes, Admiral," said Alby almost simultaneously with Patric and Anny. I'm glad somebody knows the regulations!

Thayer took a deep breath and seemed to relax a tiny bit.

"Very well, we can begin," said Thayer. "From testimony given by yourselves, the other cadets involved and other witnesses, I believe we can summarize the incident as follows: The nine other accused cadets accosted Cadet Jon Arlov and were physically abusing him. Cadet Hinsworth attempted to intervene on Arlov's behalf and was abused in turn. Cadets Zilwicki, McDermott and Payne then arrived on the scene. At this point the abuse ceased and Cadet Arlov left the scene and proceeded to the Provost's Office to seek assistance."

Thayer paused and looked coldly at Helen. "Then, without further provocation, Cadet Zilwicki led the four of you in an attack on the other cadets, producing a general melee. Numerous injuries resulted from this before the marines arrived. In your opinions, is this an accurate account?"

"Yes, Admiral, I believe it is," said Helen. Alby and the others exchanged nervous glances and nodded their heads. Alby was taking his lead from Helen, but he did not agree at all! Helen was setting herself up to take most of the blame!

"The tribunal requires spoken responses, do you agree with this account?" asked Thayer.

"Yes, Admiral," said the trio, although Alby could see that Patric and Anny were no happier than he with where this seemed to be leading.

Admiral Thayer sighed. "From this account, it is evident that the incident was started by the other nine cadets, who, without any provocation attacked Cadet Arlov. This is despicable behavior, and I assure you that they will be punished when they are brought before this tribunal. However, I am extremely disturbed by your behavior, Cadet Zilwicki. After your arrival on the scene, the physical violence had ended. The other cadets have claimed, and your own testimony confirms, that they intended no further violence. Had you and your comrades simply withdrawn at this point, the incident would have ended and you could have brought charges against the others for their initial assault on Cadets Arlov and Hinsworth. Instead, you attacked them. This is unacceptable behavior in any cadet, but you hold the second highest rank in your regiment. You are supposed to set a standard for others to aspire to, Ms. Zilwicki. Do you have any explanation or defense for your behavior?"

Helen drew herself up. "Admiral, hostile forces had attacked and damaged two of my subordinates. I evaluated the tactical situation and decided that the best course of action would be an immediate counter-attack. My intention was to bring the hostile forces to battle in hopes of inflicting substantial damage on them. In this I was successful." Helen spoke as though she were evaluating a session in the simulators.

"Cadet Zilwicki," said Admiral Thayer, obviously startled, "this was not a space battle. You are speaking about fellow cadets."

"Nevertheless, Admiral, the hostiles had damaged my subordinates. To allow them to withdraw undamaged would have seriously harmed the morale of my command and encouraged future attacks by the hostile forces. I acted in what I believed to be the best interest of my command." Helen was staring straight ahead without the slightest emotion in her voice.

"Helen..." said Thayer and then she stopped. She rubbed her eyes with her hand and briefly glanced at the two officers flanking her. Alby could see that she was upset.

"Cadet Zilwicki, this is a serious situation. Surely you knew that you were committing a breach of the regulations when you undertook this action. You do realize that as the ranking cadet in this incident the responsibility-and the consequences-must fall most heavily on you?"

"Admiral, I included those factors in my estimation of the situation. I considered the likely consequences to be acceptable losses."

"Acceptable losses?" said Thayer and she sighed, shaking her head.

Acceptable losses!? thought Alby. Maybe Helen can accept them, but I can't!

"Admiral!"

Alby Hinsworth committed himself at last.

"Yes, Mr. Hinsworth?" said Thayer, seemingly startled by Alby's sudden outburst.

"A-Admiral, we all know what started this whole thing. It was me screwing around with Sandra Bennett's simulation! If I hadn't done that, none of this would have happened! If anyone should be punished, it should be me, not Helen!"

Thayer regarded him for a moment and her expression softened slightly.

"Cadet, I...appreciate your coming forward like this, and I can understand your feelings-believe me, I can. However, the purpose of this tribunal is to evaluate the specified incident. That, and that alone. Your statement, while commendable, is not relevant in this matter."

"But..."

"I said it is not relevant, Cadet. You will speak when spoken to."

Alby's mouth opened and shut several times, but he did not know what else he could say. Helen looked at him and shook her head ever so slightly and gave him a tiny smile.

"Cadet Zilwicki, do you have anything else to say?" asked Thayer.

"No, Admiral."

"Do any of you have anything else to say?"

Alby heard himself say: "No, Admiral," with Patric and Anny.

"Very well, the tribunal will pass judgment. The serious nature of the offense requires a substantial penalty. Each of you shall receive one hundred demerits. Each of you shall spend eighty hours on punishment rounds served in twenty, four-hour sessions. This incident shall go on your permanent records and you are warned that any future offenses of this nature could result in expulsion."

Thayer paused and took a deep breath.

"Cadet Zilwicki, due to the role you played in this incident, I am forced to recommend that your rank of Cadet Lieutenant Colonel be stripped, and you be demoted to Cadet Major. This will have to be reviewed and approved by the Faculty Council. Do the other members of the tribunal concur?"

The officers flanking Thayer nodded their heads and said: "Yes".

"Very well, let it be so recorded. Cadets, you are dismissed."

[Scene Break]

Alby Hinsworth marched forty paces due south. He halted and faced about. He marched forty paces due north, halted and faced about again.

He had done this many, many times before, but he had never had so much company. Twelve other cadets shared the courtyard with him. They were arranged in a line of seven and a line of six marching in opposite directions with four meters between each person. At the midpoint of each forty pace round, Alby found himself passing between Sandra Bennett and Archie Lansdorff. At the start of the session, those two had snarled at him on each pass and he had smirked back at them. Two hours later none of them had the energy for anything but a passing frown. Several marines kept a constant watch on the proceedings.

Whew! Glad it's not so hot as the last time I had to do this!

Summer had come to an end and it was the beginning of Fall. It was still warm, but not nearly as hot as it might have been. This was lucky since they would be marching for four hours instead of two.

Alby passed by Bennett again. She looked a little better than the previous day, but her injuries were still evident. Anny really did a job on her nose. It would probably take a little biosculpt to restore it to what it had been. Alby was sure Bennett would spend the money to be perfect again. Alby was also satisfied to note that Bennett's sergeant chevrons were missing. He did not know the details of the punishment Thayer had inflicted on Bennett's gang, but none of them had any cadet rank anymore, and that was fine with Alby.

"Squad, halt!" shouted one of the marines. "Ten minute break! Squad, fall out!"

The cadets looked around and then, by some unspoken agreement, split into two groups that headed for opposite ends of the courtyard. Alby joined Patric, Anny and Helen and they sat down in some shade by one of the buildings.

"Hoo!" said Patric. "That's hard work! How many times have you done this, Alby?"

"Too many times," said Alby. He looked at his friends' faces and the sweat running down them. "I'm sorry I got you into this, guys," he said quietly.

"Don't worry about it," said all three of the others in unison. They grinned at each other. "Great minds think alike," said Helen.

"But I am worrying about it," said Alby, looking down at the ground. "I've been nothing but trouble for you guys since the beginning. If I had not been so selfish and irresponsible, none of this would have happened. After all you've done for me, this is a fine way to repay you."

The others looked uncomfortable for a moment.

"Alby?" said Anny. He looked up at her. "Why did you pick Bennett and Lansdorff as the target for your gag?"

"Well, because they are a couple of stuck-up jerks, I guess."

"There are plenty of other people on this island that fit that description. Are you sure there was not some other reason?"

He blushed. "You know why: because of the things they did to you, Anny," said Alby in a near-whisper.

Anny leaned over and kissed Alby on the cheek. "Yes, I do know, Alby. That was very sweet-and thank you. It was a very good gag, too."

Alby looked at Anny. His eyes were glistening, but he had a smile on his face. He was very grateful for Anny's words. "Thank you, Anny," he said.

"I've got something else that might make you feel better, too," said Anny with a grin.

"What's that?" asked Alby.

"I did not have a chance to tell you this morning, but I got a letter from my sister. My father has given her permission to write to you. If it is all right with you, she would like to."

"Of course it's all right with me!" said Alby with a big smile. "That would be great!"

"I thought you would say that, so I already wrote her back and told her it was all right," said Anny. "If I know her, you probably have six letters waiting for you already."

Alby leaned back against the building. He felt incredibly good in spite of his tired feet and sore shoulder. Abigail wants to write to me!

The four cadets sat in silence for a minute. Alby was daydreaming about Abigail when he found himself looking at the collar of Helen's uniform. The insignia of a major was there instead of the lieutenant colonel's insignia she had formerly worn. His good mood faded. He felt really bad about that. She had worked so hard for it. Almost as bad was the fact that Captain Wagner had insisted that she give up the award for winning the simulator competition because of her association with Alby. Even though they had never actually accused Alby of perpetrating the scam, Wagner felt that the award was tainted.

"Helen, I'm really sorry I cost you your rank and all," said Alby.

"Acceptable losses, Cadet," said Helen simply, but she smiled.

"I wish there was something I could do to repay you for what I cost you, Helen. If there is anything I can ever do for you, and I mean anything, you only have to ask." It was not an idle gesture and they both knew it. The wealth and influence of Alby's family could have an enormous effect on a person's career. Helen considered that for a moment.

"Alby, do you really want to do something for me?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," said Alby eagerly. "What is it?"

"Shape up and act like a cadet," said Helen. Alby did a double take but Helen just sat there smiling.

"Alby, you are a nice person, and a lot of fun to be around, but you are the worst excuse for a naval cadet I've ever seen. I hate to have to say it, but you are a weak spot in my battalion. The best thing you could do for me is to shape up."

Alby looked down at the ground, blushing fiercely. After a moment he looked up at Helen.

"I guess I've really let you down, haven't I?" he said. Helen said nothing. "I know I have, I've let all of you down." Alby looked from face to face. These were his friends. Friends who had risked everything for him.

"But I'm not going to let you down again."

Patric and Anny just smiled at him. Helen nodded.

"That's good enough for me, Cadet," she said.

"And you want to know something else about all this?" she asked. Alby stared at her and quirked an eyebrow.

Helen looked over at the other group of cadets and she had a strange smile on her face. She tapped one fist in the palm of her other hand.

"It was worth it!"

They were all still laughing when the marines called them back into ranks.

End of Book Three