Gina caught Rick’s eye and jerked her head. “Out of here. This will be easier on everybody if you’re not around.”
Easier on Rick, that was for sure. He saw a dozen other trainees crowding into the gym. They were all staring at Vido’s bloodied head, then frowning accusingly at Rick.
He pushed his way through them without a word and headed for the dorm. His daily assignments were not finished, but there was no way he could work on them now. He was too agitated.
Back at his empty dorm he threw himself onto his bed. If he had just told Alice Klein to go take a jump instead of explaining her problem to her, none of this would have happened. He would be quietly at work on his study tasks. And now look at him. Vido was sure he had been screwing around with Monkey, when he hadn’t laid a finger on her. Everybody else believed he had knocked the shit out of Vido, when actually all he had been doing was defending himself. And because he wasn’t getting his work done, he would be forcing down lumpy oatmeal tomorrow.
So much for trying to help people. Rick closed his eyes. Next time he would know better.
Chapter Nine
Early next morning before classes began, Rick was summoned to Turkey Gossage’s office. Sure that he was in trouble, he was in no hurry to get there yet afraid of being late. He finally arrived a few minutes ahead of time.
Gossage nodded him to a seat on the other side of the circular table that he used as a desk. He went on studying a monitor, invisible to Rick. He was muttering to himself, until at last he looked up.
“I guess you think you’re a real hot-shot.”
“I never meant to hurt him.” When Turkey looked blank, Rick blundered on. “I didn’t. I really didn’t want to fight at all.”
“Oh, that.” Turkey waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I wasn’t talking about that. I had a meeting with Valdez last night, and he says the whole thing was his fault.”
“His fault!”
“You got hearing problems? Your physical didn’t show it. You heard me, his fault. He says he came across a situation, misinterpreted it, and blew his lid. You were just defending yourself. You want to disagree with that?”
“Well, no. But I’m surprised.” Suddenly Rick felt like a coward.
“That’s permitted. Thank him when you see him. Now let’s start over.” But Turkey had to pause, because there was another knock on the door. “Come in.”
It was Deedee Mao, arriving to the appointed second. Turkey waved her to a chair next to Rick. “I’ll ask you the same thing I just tried to ask Luban,” he said. “I guess you think you’re a real hot-shot?”
“No.” Deedee glanced at Rick, convinced that he must have said something about her, but he shook his head.
“So you don’t know, either?” Turkey went on.
Rick looked at Deedee. She seemed just as puzzled as he was. “I don’t,” she said.
“Then I guess I’ll have to tell you.” Gossage was studying their faces. “The pair of you are sitting near the top of the trainee heap, along with a couple of others. You and Chick Teazle and Gladys de Witt are all doing well. Keep going this way, and you’ll graduate.”
Rick’s pleasure at that surprising news didn’t last too long, because Turkey hadn’t finished and he had a diabolical look of glee on his face.
“Naturally,” he said, “since you’re such hot-shots we want you to have a specially good chance to make a mess of things. So for the pair of you, the training course just moved beyond supervised instruction. Tomorrow morning you’ll be partners on a practical exercise in space ore mining. And I promise you, it won’t be easy. I suggest you spend the rest of today studying the problem. You have until the close of the work day tomorrow to complete the assignment.”
Rick and Deedee exchanged grimaces. They had pretty much avoided each other since their first liftoff into orbit. Now they were supposed to cooperate—even depend on each other.
“Studying together.” Gossage had read their faces. “The more you know about each other’s strengths and weaknesses, the better. And remember something else: in the real world you don’t always get assigned to projects with your best buddies. Go get to work. The universe doesn’t care how much people like each other.”
The “practical exercise” that Gossage and his staff had prepared did not sound too hard. Rick and Deedee would load a five-hundred-ton ore carrier with low-grade tailings, controlling a semi-smart mining robot to do all the heavy work. They would fly the carrier to CM-2’s refinery, drop off the ore, and return to the mine area on the empty carrier. Their own safe return through CM-2’s interior would mark the end of the exercise.
But as Deedee remarked, the devil was in the details. Smartness in a mining robot was a mixed blessing, and the instructions given to it must limit its initiative. That meant learning the interaction manual and understanding the robot’s powers and limitations. The ore carrier was no better. Examining its flight path and fuel needs, Rick and Deedee learned that the fuel supply provided for the round trip was barely enough. One mistake, even a small one, would leave them drifting helplessly away from CM-2 and calling for help from an empty carrier. Turkey Gossage, obviously by intention, had provided no precomputed flight trajectory.
Finally there was a hidden variable mentioned nowhere in the project description: according to training course rumor and legend, Gossage always threw in some extra problem on a practical test, a zinger that could not be predicted ahead of time. You found out about it when it hit you in the face.
Working with Deedee, Rick grudgingly had to admit that she was smart. She seemed less cocky and belligerent than he remembered her, and she caught on to new ideas at least as fast as he did. He suspected that in a pinch she could read and remember better. And she never seemed to get tired. The cocky statements from Chick Teazle and others of the New Mexico training group, that the East Coasters were all butt-head weirdos, hardly applied to Deedee Mao.
Rick tried to match her. He drove himself harder than ever before, until late at night they found themselves sitting side-by-side and staring helplessly at a set of schematics. The lines on the screen seemed to blur and curve as Rick watched. The circuit had to be completed correctly before the display would advance, but nothing seemed to work.
“It can’t be that hard,” Rick muttered at last.
“It isn’t.” Deedee sighed and reached forward to turn off the display. “It’s us. We’ve saturated. At least, I have. How about you?”
“An hour ago. I just didn’t want to admit it.” Rick stood and reached up to rub at his stiffened neck muscles. “Better get some sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead.”
“Yeah.” Deedee stretched. “I’m in Cabin Twenty-Eight. Wanna get it on? Y’know, in freefall. I hear it’s somethin’ special.”
Her tone of voice was casual and she wasn’t looking at Rick. But she was smiling.
He shook his head. “Better with a swamp toad. God. That was us. Only a few weeks ago, and it seems like ten years.
“It was ten years. Ten real years.” Deedee headed for the exit. “Who said that time proceeds at a uniform rate? Whoever it was, he was crazy.”
“Or she was.”
“Fair enough. Good night, Rick.”
“Night, Deedee. Sleep well.”
Maybe she did. Rick certainly didn’t. He woke long before he needed to, the details of the project swarming through his mind. After half an hour of tossing and turning, he rose, dressed, and headed for the cafeteria. It was deserted, as it usually was at such an early hour. He was ordering a meal when Deedee wandered in. Her face was calm but a little pale.