第14节

inspection by the kinfolk of the senior classmen. Food and drink were

freely available in the mess halls, where the first year Squabs were on

duty as waiters. Second year cadets provided conducted tours of the

classrooms and other training areas, giving practical demonstrations on

the flight rigs, simulators and weapon ranges. Steve took over control

of his guard-father's wheelchair but, an hour into the tour, Jack

Brickman's face clouded over as the sharp-toothed serpent within him

crept out of its secret lair and began to gnaw away at another part of

his body. Annie gave Jack a couple of Cloud-Nines and cradled his head

until the drawn sinews on his scrawny neck slackened and he fell into a

drugged sleep.

Seeing what had happened, Chuck Waters, a buddie from B-flight invited

Steve's kinfolk to join his own ten-strong bunch of Okies. Steve took

Jack Brickman up in the elevator to the quarterdeck and wheeled him

into his shack. Putting a pillow on the chair back, he gently eased

the gaunt openmouthed skull onto it, crossed the limp wizened hands,

then sat down on the stripped bunk and gazed impassively at the man who

had raised him. The only sign of life was a thin gasping sigh as air

passed in and out of his guard-father's throat. Sometime next year,

the sighing would stop. The bag-men would call, his body would go down

the gaspipe and his name would go up on the Flight Academy's wall.

Another good man gone.

Steve sat there a while longer then got up and began packing his

clothing and personal equipment into a big blue trail-bag.

'Okay if I come in?"

Steve looked over his shoulder. Donna Monroe Lundkwist, a slim,

fair-haired wingman who had, in Steve's calculations, been his only

serious rival for first place stood at the door. The blue and white

tasselled Honour Cadet lanyard was looped over her right shoulder; the

big metallic-thread Minuteman badge was sewn on her left breast pocket

under the silver wings.

Steve folded the last of his shirts into the trail-bag. 'What can I do

for you?"

'Nothing special." Lundkwist sat down casually on the bunk next to

Steve's trail bag. 'Just dropped in to say "goodbye"." She nodded

towards Jack Brickman. 'Your guard-father?"

'Yeah..."

Lundkwist registered the two gold, double triangles on Jack Brickman's

sleeve and gave a low whistle. 'A double-six!

Twelve tours and two White House lunches with the President-General.

How come you never told anybody your guardian was an ace wingman?"

Steve shrugged. 'That kind of information is dispensed on a strictly

"need-to-know" basis." He zipped up the side pockets of his trail-bag

and wedged some more of his gear into the middle section. 'How was

your lunch?"

'Oh - you mean with the Academy-General? Interesting.

He gave me the inside track on my first assignment. I'm being posted

to Big Red One."

'That's good,' said Brickman, flatly.

Big Red One was the popular name for the Red River wagon train. It was

known throughout the Federation for the spectacular success of its many

expeditions against the Mutes; its Trail-Blazer crew had an unrivalled

combat record and as a result of their renown, the Red River wagon

master was able to cream off the top layer of graduates from the combat

academies and specialist schools. For the last twenty years, the top

three cadets from the Academy had joined the Trail-Blazer team aboard

Red River. Steve had planned to be one of them this year.

'I asked about you."

'And ... ?"

'You've been assigned to The Lady from Louisiana -she's based at Fort

Worth." Lundkwist paused. 'Gus White too."

'That should make his day,' grunted Steve. Service aboard Big Red One

was traditionally regarded as the all-important first rung on the

promotion ladder. He turned to face her, 'Does he know yet?"

Lundkwist shook her head. 'I thought you'd enjoy telling him."

'I will." Steve closed the long zip on the middle section of his trail

bag. As he moved the zip tag towards Lundkwist she laid a finger on

the back of his hand and drew a slow,

exploratory circle. Their eyes met.

'How about putting the bomb in the barrel?"

Steve ran the zip tag the rest of the way wh