&&000 Space Cadet, by RAH (hardback version) &&111 &&000 p 1 &&111 "To =MatthewBrooksDodson," the paper in his hand read, "greetings." "Having successfully completed the field elimination tests for appointment to the position of cadet in the Interplanetary Patrol you are authorized to report to the Commandant, =Terra Base, =SantaBarbara Field, =Colorado, =NorthAmerican Union, =Terra, on or before One =July =2075, for further examination." "You are cautioned to remember that the majority of candidates taking these final tests usually fail and you should provide -- ." =Matt folded the paper and stuck it back in his belt pouch. He did not care to think about the chance of failure. The passenger across from him, a boy about his age, caught his eye. "That paper looks familiar, you a candidate, too?" &&000 p21 &&111 "Oh, all us =Jarmans are high strung. Take my Uncle =Bodie. Got so excited at the county fair he jumped between the shafts of a sulky and won two heats before they could catch him and throw him." "Is that so?" "My solemn word. Didn't pay off, though. They disqualified him because he wasn't a two year old." =Burke joined them and they sauntered down to the rotunda. Several hundred other candidates had had the same idea but the administration had anticipated the rush. A cadet stationed at the stairway into the pit was permitting visitors in parties of ten only, each supervised by a cadet. =Burke eyed the queue. "Simple arithmetic tells me there's no point in waiting." =Matt hesitated. =Tex said, "Come on, =Matt. Some will get tired and drop out." &&000 p 41 &&111 =Matt's room was empty, which was a relief. He did not want to see =Burke, nor anyone. He sat down and thought about it. Eleven people -- just like that. All happy and excited and then -- =crrrump -- not even enough left to cremate. Suddenly he himself was back up in the sky -- . He broke off the thought, trembling. At the end of an hour he had made up his mind that the Patrol was not for him. He had thought of it, he realized, through a kid's bright illusions -- Captain =Jenks of the Space Patrol, The Young Rocketeers, stuff like that. Well, those books were all right -- for kids -- but he wasn't hero material, he had to admit. Anyhow, his stomach would never get used to free fall. Right now it tightened up when he thought about it. &&000 p 61 &&111 No one answered; he went on: "All right, go out and look around the ship -- but try to behave yourselves and not bump into anybody so you'll be a credit to deck three." The third deck had no ports of any sort, but the =Bolivar was a long-jump transport; she possessed recreation rooms and viewports. =Matt started forward, seeking a place from which to get a glimpse of the Earth. He remembered to pass outboard as he pulled himself along, but apparently some passengers had not yet been indoctrinated. Each hatchway was a traffic jam of youngsters, each trying to leave his own deck to sight-see in some other deck, any deck. The sixth deck, he found, was a recreation room. It contained the ship's library -- locked -- and games equipment, also locked. But it did have six large viewports. The recreation deck had carried a full load of passengers. Now in free fall, cadets from all other decks gradually found their way to the recreation deck, just as =Matt had, seeking a view of outside; at the same time the original roster of that deck showed no tendency to want to leave their favored billet. &&000 p81 &&111 "And now, gentlemen, let's try it again. By the numbers -- One Two Three!" by the count of five, at which time they all should have turned in the air, neatly and together, all semblance of order was gone. There were collisions, one cadet had even failed to get away from the grab line, and two cadets, refugees from a midair skirmish, were floating aimlessly toward the far end of the room. Their faces had the bewildered look of a dog trying to get traction on smooth ice as they threshed their arms and legs in an effort to stay their progress. "No! No! No," said the sergeant and covered his face with his hands! "I can't bear to look." "Gentlemen -- please! A little co-ordination. Don't throw yourself at the far wall like an Airedale heading into a fight. A steady, firm shove -- like this." He took off sideways, using the traction given him by his space boots, and intercepted the two deserters, gathering one in each arm and letting his momentum carry the three bodies slowly toward the far end of the grab line. "Grab on," he told them, "and back to your places. Now, gentlemen -- once more. Places! By the numbers -- normal push off, with arrested contact -- one!" &&000 p 101 &&111 "Well, why not? You think I'm kidding?" "No, I'm just impressed. May I touch you? How about an autograph?" "Oh, come off it!" They were, of course, in the free-fall part of the Station. As soon as they had stowed their suits, they hurried to the centrifuge belt frequented by the traveling public. =Oscar knew his way around somewhat, having changed ships at the Station when he was a candidate, and led them to the door at the axis of rotation -- the only possible place to pass from the free-fall zone to the weight zone. From the axis they went down several levels, past offices and private quarters to the first of the public levels. It was, in effect, a wide, brightly lighted street, with a high ceiling and with slideways down the middle. Shops and restaurants lined it. The slideway curved up and away in the distance, for the corridor curved completely around the Station. "This," =Oscar told them, "is Paradise Walk." "I see why," agreed =Tex, and gave a low whistle. The others followed his gaze. A tall, willowy blonde, dressed in some blue wisps of nothing much, was looking in the display window of a jewelry store. &&000 p121 &&111 "The space marines are the Patrol's switch. They are the finest -- ." "Excuse me, sir -- ." "Yes?" "I know how the marines work. They do the active policing in the System -- but that's why I want to transfer. They're a more active outfit. They are -- ." " -- more daring, more adventurous, more colorful, more glamorous -- and don't have to study things that =MatthewDodson is tired of studying. Now shut up and listen; there is a lot you don't know about the set-up, or you wouldn't be trying to transfer." =Matt shut up. "People tend to fall into three psychological types, all differently motivated. There is the type, motivated by economic factors, money .. and there is the type motivated by face, or pride. This type is a spender, fighter, boaster, lover sportsman, gambler; he has a will to power and an itch for glory. And there is the professional type, which claims to follow a code of ethics rather than simply seeking money or glory -- priests and ministers, teachers, scientists, medical men, some artists and writers. The idea is that such a man believes that he is devoting his life to some purpose more important than his individual self. You follow me?" &&000 p141 &&111 The ship's phone in their room sounded; =Matt answered it to get the squeal out of his ears. "Yes? Cadet =Dodson speaking -- ." "Officer of the watch. Is =Jensen there, too?" "Yes, sir." "Both of you report to the Captain." "Aye aye, sir." =Matt turned a troubled face to =Oscar. "What'll I do, =Oz? The rest of my uniforms are over at the base tailor shop -- and this one I've got on looks as if I had slept in it." "You did. Wear one of mine." "Thanks, but it would fit me like socks on a rooster. Do you suppose I have time to run over and pick up my clean ones?" "Hardly!" =Matt rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I ought to shave, anyhow." "Look," said =Oscar, " if I'm any judge of skippers, you'll do better to show up naked as an oyster and with a beard down to here, than to keep him waiting. Let's get going." The door opened and =Tex stuck his head in. "Say -- did you guys get a call to report to the Old Man?" &&000 p161 &&111 The silence was broken only by the soft sighing of the room's ventilators. Then =Thurlow exploded, "But, Captain, that's impossible!" Captain =Yancey looked at him. "Do you know all the answers, young man? I'm sure I don't." "I'm sorry, sir." "In this case, I wouldn't even venture to have an opinion. I'm not competent. However, gentlemen, if it is true, as Professor =Thorwald certainly thought it was, then I hardly need point out to you that we have more reason than ever to be proud of our Patrol -- and our responsibility is even heavier than we had thought. Now to business -- I an very reluctant to leave the =Pathfinder where she is. Aside from sentimental reasons she is a ship of the Patrol and she is worth a good many millions. I think we can repair her and take her back." &&000 p153 (of the paperback) &&111 The cadets had climbed down into the pit to watch, talking in high spirits about he prospects of putting the jeep back into commission and jetting out again, until the Venerian in charge of the work had urged them emphatically to go up out of the pit and stay out of the way. They joined the city mother and waited. "Ask her how she expects to get it up out of there, =Oz," =Tex suggested. =Oscar did so. "Tell thy impatient daughter to chase her fish and I will chase mine." "No need for her to be rude about it," =Tex complained.