“You, Klein.” She pointed at Alice. “Your mathematics is a disgrace. We’ll do something to take care of that—or rather, you will. Beverly Landau—”
“It’s Goggles, ma’am.” Goggles blushed and wriggled, while the others stared at him. “Goggles Landau.”
“Isn’t your real name Beverly?”
“Yes. But I never use it.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s—Beverly is a girl’s name.”
“I see.” She glared at him. “You mean, it’s a girl’s name just like Barney is a boy’s name?”
Goggles was smart enough not to answer, and she went on, “Well, Beverly Landau, I’ll call you what I want to. Your parents certainly did. And, Beverly Landau, if your test results are anything to go by, the amount you understand about atomic structure could be written on the small point on the top of your head. That’s going to change. Agreed.”
“Yes, sir—ma’am.”
“Very good. Actually, I prefer sir. Now, Mao.” She turned to Deedee. “Is there any special name you’d like me to call you by?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. So let’s talk about history. You stated on your general knowledge quiz that Rome was founded in the year 753 AD. Would you be interested in revising that opinion?”
There was a long silence, as Deedee opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally she said tentatively, “753 BC?”
“Correct. A mere difference of fifteen hundred years, but what’s that between friends? Bravo. Or is someone else to be congratulated? Was there a little help from a person behind you? You—Luban. Did you tell Mao the right answer?”
“No, sir.” Rick had been trying to be totally inconspicuous behind Deedee and Vido Valdez.
“Do you know who did?”
“No, sir.” Rick felt his gut tighten. He had just told a direct lie. He had heard Gladys de Witt, on his immediate left, whisper the answer.
“I don’t believe you.” Barney French studied his face. “But I will let it pass. You are in enough trouble already. For the past two months you have been in a position to look at Earth anytime you chose. Did you do so?”
“Yes, sir. Many times.”
“And yet you cheerfully asserted on your final test, despite the evidence of your own eyes, that seventy percent of Earth is land area, while only thirty percent is covered by water.”
“I said it backwards.” Rick cringed at his own stupidity. “I meant it the other way round, seventy percent water.”
“Really? How very reassuring. I suppose you consider it all right to remove oxygen from your suit when you intend to add it. Or perhaps to accelerate your ship when successful rendezvous requires you to decelerate?
“Now listen, all of you.” To Rick’s relief she turned away from him to address the whole group. “You may be thinking, what the hell is all the fuss about? Barney French is nitpicking on things that don’t make a damn of difference. Well if you think that, you’re wrong. No matter how much fudging you got away with on Earth, or even here on CM-2, that ends today. I’m not like Turkey Gossage, willing to blow your nose and change your diaper. When you leave CM-2 you leave kindergarten. Accuracy and precision do make a difference when you’re out in the Belt. The details matter. You have to get things right. If you don’t believe me, take a look.”
She walked along the line of trainees, turning so that they could get a good view of her misshapen face.
“See the scars? See the bone grafts, and the facial reconstruction? Take a close-up. You’re seeing me after thirty-seven operations and the best plastic surgery that money can buy. My body is in worse shape than my face—I have more metal than bone in my shoulders. And I’m one of the lucky ones. Four people died in the accident that did this. And do you know what caused it? One lousy plus sign that should have been a minus, in one small subroutine that controlled one phase of a continuous casting operation on CM-24. The man who made the error paid for it. You probably saw plenty of horror videos when you were back on Earth. But you’ve never known real horror, until you see what a pressure jet of molten steel does when it hits a human body in low-gee.”
She stared at and through the hushed group of trainees. “You will see simulations of accidents just like the one I was involved in—but not today. So you can go now. Pick up your assignments as you leave. Each of you will find your name on one of the packets. I want all the work done in the next three days. What each of you is required to do reflects your individual weaknesses, plus one additional question that you must all try to answer. Cooperate as much as you like—but remember, you get no credit if you spend your time helping somebody else, and then screw up on your own work. You’re not trainees any more. You’re apprentices. Earn that title.
“Oh, yes, and one other thing. I don’t think you want to open those assignments right now, because we’ll be lifting from CM-2 in four hours. Pack your bags, and say your fond farewells. Anyone who wants to go to the Belt should be at the main port by eleven hundred hours.”
CM-2, so alien two months ago, felt like home now. Rick had his few belongings packed in ten minutes, spent another hour wandering the familiar exercise rooms, dining-hall, and dormitories, and then fifteen minutes on his bunk examining the packet that he had been given by Barney French.
He stared in dismay at the contents. He was tired out, nervous, and about to enter the new environment of a ship heading for the Belt. But somehow he was supposed to tackle these assignments and finish them in the next three days.
Your knowledge of Earth geography is inadequate. Read the following—pages of references. Tons of reading, for someone who still had to mouth out most words of more than two syllables.
Your lack of knowledge of the Belt and the solar system is deplorable. Learn the following by heart. Sheet after sheet of data about the planets, asteroids, rings and moons of the solar system, endless names and numbers and lists and computer file references.
Back in school he had never been forced to learn things by heart. That was dismissed by the powers-that-be in the Earth education system as “rote learning,” old-fashioned and restrictive and undesirable. It didn’t leave a student with what Principal Rigden always called “time for smelling the roses.”
Rick didn’t recall smelling many roses. He did know he had spent a lot of time watching the tube.
Not any more, though. No tubes, except as video outlets for education and training modules. He suspected he was going to see plenty of those.
He puzzled over the final question, the one given to all the apprentices: Estimate your ship’s travel time to the Belt. Tables of the coordinates of the destination, CM-26, as a function of time, together with an initial position of the starting point, CM-2, will be found in this packet. You may assume that there will be continuous acceleration and deceleration on the journey at one quarter of a standard Earth gravity. Answers within ten percent are acceptable.
Rick groaned to himself. Absolutely baffling—he didn’t know how to do orbital mechanics. Hell, he couldn’t even spell the words.
Just yesterday he had been on top of the world, now it was back to the same old grind only worse. He would force down some breakfast—he still believed what he had told Deedee, an active brain needed food—then he would head for the main launch port.
Jigger was right. The honeymoon, if it had ever started, was over.
With an hour or more to go to eleven, the main port was already crowded when Rick got there. He had seen ships come and go from CM-2, and as part of the practical course the trainees had been given a guided tour around one of them; but he had never examined any ship the way that he studied the Vantage, waiting now for its passengers and crew.