of a drunken no-good"
Justin tried to swing at Matt but did it a little tod hard so that the suit servos kicked in. He spun around and landed on his backside; Brian and Matt, laughing even harder, had to pull him back to his feet and lead him off the field.
Chapter V
"A beauty of a ship," Justin announced admiringly as he examined the sleek lines of the USMC's Somers. Since the Somers was one of the older Timoshinko -class cruisers, it displayed the classic swept-back lines of a ship designed for a multitude of tasksplanet -to-planet transfer and reentry, patrol, and high-speed pursuit. Given the ever-increasing specialization of ships in the inventory of the USMC, the Somers was a bit of a throwback to an earlier and more exciting period of space flight.
Gently hoisting his duffel so as not to disconnect his sticky-bottom boots from the airlock's deck, Justin walked down the length of the ship. He could see on closer examination that it had been through many long years of service. Its underside was scorched and blackened from hundreds of reentries, micro-meteor and debris nicks marred the forward edge of its swept-back wings, and the paint was peeling in places from the thousands of long hours of exposure to the searing heat and freezing cold of the vacuum of space.
Justin scanned the line of cadets queued up behind him. Some of the faces were familiar: Leonov was behind Matt, and farther back in the line was Madison Smith, who had been in his squad during scrub summer. Chatting with Madison was her roommate Marissa Livollen . He saw his roommate, Wendell Colson, bringing up the end of the line.
As he reached the entry door he turned as sharply as he could in zero gravity and snapped off a salute, first to the colors of the USMC emblazoned on the side of the entry hatch and then to the First Officer.
"Plebe Cadet Bell, Justin, 144-99-1848, reporting as ordered, sir. Permission to come aboard."
Justin recognized the acting first officer as Senior Cadet Frank Petronovich , a friend of Brian Seay's . The senior cadet returned the salute.
"Aft, cabin three. Stow your gear and report forward in fifteen minutes."
Justin saluted both the flag and Petronovich once more, shuffled aboard and headed aft. It was his first time aboard an actual light cruiser. Somehow the vids made it seem far more expansive and romantic than the reality that now confronted him. The corridor was barely wide enough for one person, let alone someone carrying a duffel . The floor, walls and ceiling were marred with scuffmarks and dents, and had a tired, worn out look to them. The bonding material that kept the universe together, duct tape, held several light panels in place.
He squeezed past an open airlock door and saw the narrow mess hall to his right, a low-ceilinged room with a single row of tables down the middle. An unusual smell he couldn't decide if it was disagreeable or not wafted out, and he caught a glimpse of a cook back in the galley, wearing a stained T-shirt that showed his hairy, beefy arms. The cook was shaking a container and whistling a tune that Justin recognized as a rather obscene ballad favored by Matt. He caught Justin's stare and winked, his grin revealing a row of stained yellow teeth.
Justin waved back before pushing on down the corridor.
He reached cabin three just aft of the galley and pushed the door open. Glad to be the first one in, he stowed his bag in a storage bin. The room had four webbed sleeping nets rather than beds. During the summer he had spent a couple of nights in the zero-gravity section learning how to rig up a sleeping net, but slumber had been almost impossible just as he'd nod off, a dream about falling would hit and he'd wake up with a start. At least he was not alone; several cadets actually woke up yelling and thrashing and one had washed out when he swore he'd never try to sleep in zero-gee again.
"Well, old man, roomies again," Matt announced, easily coming through the door and pushing his
Justin tried to swing at Matt but did it a little tod hard so that the suit servos kicked in. He spun around and landed on his backside; Brian and Matt, laughing even harder, had to pull him back to his feet and lead him off the field.
Chapter V
"A beauty of a ship," Justin announced admiringly as he examined the sleek lines of the USMC's Somers. Since the Somers was one of the older Timoshinko -class cruisers, it displayed the classic swept-back lines of a ship designed for a multitude of tasksplanet -to-planet transfer and reentry, patrol, and high-speed pursuit. Given the ever-increasing specialization of ships in the inventory of the USMC, the Somers was a bit of a throwback to an earlier and more exciting period of space flight.
Gently hoisting his duffel so as not to disconnect his sticky-bottom boots from the airlock's deck, Justin walked down the length of the ship. He could see on closer examination that it had been through many long years of service. Its underside was scorched and blackened from hundreds of reentries, micro-meteor and debris nicks marred the forward edge of its swept-back wings, and the paint was peeling in places from the thousands of long hours of exposure to the searing heat and freezing cold of the vacuum of space.
Justin scanned the line of cadets queued up behind him. Some of the faces were familiar: Leonov was behind Matt, and farther back in the line was Madison Smith, who had been in his squad during scrub summer. Chatting with Madison was her roommate Marissa Livollen . He saw his roommate, Wendell Colson, bringing up the end of the line.
As he reached the entry door he turned as sharply as he could in zero gravity and snapped off a salute, first to the colors of the USMC emblazoned on the side of the entry hatch and then to the First Officer.
"Plebe Cadet Bell, Justin, 144-99-1848, reporting as ordered, sir. Permission to come aboard."
Justin recognized the acting first officer as Senior Cadet Frank Petronovich , a friend of Brian Seay's . The senior cadet returned the salute.
"Aft, cabin three. Stow your gear and report forward in fifteen minutes."
Justin saluted both the flag and Petronovich once more, shuffled aboard and headed aft. It was his first time aboard an actual light cruiser. Somehow the vids made it seem far more expansive and romantic than the reality that now confronted him. The corridor was barely wide enough for one person, let alone someone carrying a duffel . The floor, walls and ceiling were marred with scuffmarks and dents, and had a tired, worn out look to them. The bonding material that kept the universe together, duct tape, held several light panels in place.
He squeezed past an open airlock door and saw the narrow mess hall to his right, a low-ceilinged room with a single row of tables down the middle. An unusual smell he couldn't decide if it was disagreeable or not wafted out, and he caught a glimpse of a cook back in the galley, wearing a stained T-shirt that showed his hairy, beefy arms. The cook was shaking a container and whistling a tune that Justin recognized as a rather obscene ballad favored by Matt. He caught Justin's stare and winked, his grin revealing a row of stained yellow teeth.
Justin waved back before pushing on down the corridor.
He reached cabin three just aft of the galley and pushed the door open. Glad to be the first one in, he stowed his bag in a storage bin. The room had four webbed sleeping nets rather than beds. During the summer he had spent a couple of nights in the zero-gravity section learning how to rig up a sleeping net, but slumber had been almost impossible just as he'd nod off, a dream about falling would hit and he'd wake up with a start. At least he was not alone; several cadets actually woke up yelling and thrashing and one had washed out when he swore he'd never try to sleep in zero-gee again.
"Well, old man, roomies again," Matt announced, easily coming through the door and pushing his
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