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It wasn't merely a quartet of their peers waiting, though. There Arger
Korbeith stood, flanked by two armed guards to either side. Bran didn't dare
speak, but he and Sally exchanged a quick glance, and he was pretty sure her
thought was the same as his own: \iNow the Butcher strikes!\i
It seemed forever, but probably less than two minutes passed before the last
cadet arrived, perhaps thirty seconds after the next-to-last. Korbeith looked
at the laggard and cleared his throat. "Your name, \isir?"\i
The young man's face reddened. "Pendleton, sir. Keith Pendleton. I-"
"If you were intending to make an excuse, I advise against it." He nodded to
the guard who looked to be the oldest of them.
That man made a kindly-seeming smile. "Form one rank. Take normal interval.
Dress it up, there;
straighten that line!" When he was satisfied, he nodded. "Now strip. Clothes
off, \inow.\i Fold them neatly and place them one pace behind your position,
then form rank again." He broke hesitation with, "Move it!"
Shucking his uniform as fast as he could, Bran tried to think. Then he had the
answer: not merely simple humiliation, but economy. If you're going to space
somebody out the air lock, why waste perfectly good garments? Neither first
nor last to do so, he rejoined the lineup. And waited, as Korbeith glared.
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The captain strode to face the boy at the right end of the group, stared at
him, said nothing, and moved to the next, paused, moved again. Tension built;
Pendleton the late arrival was now under Korbeith's scrutiny. The big man
started to turn away, swung back, jerked his thumb toward his target; the
guards started forward, but then Korbeith shook his head. "No, not this time.
Next drill, let's see if he can \ibe first\i here."
Standing to Bran's right, Salome Harker was seventh to endure Korbeith's
inspection. It ended quickly, and then it was Brans turn. Resolutely he
avoided the yellow-eyed gaze, staring straight ahead at the enlarged Adam's
apple. Korbeith mumbled something, and only when he moved on did Bran realize
the words had included, ". . . no good. Should space him. But later ..."
\b78\b
The man stopped only briefly before the next few cadets, then paused a time at
Megan Delange.
Bran's sidewise glance showed him beads of sweat at the forehead edge of her
blond stubble, and barely noticeable, she was swaying on her feet. Korbeith's
smile had rocks in it. "You'll keep."
He went past the last two people without looking at them. The guards followed
him, and they left the area. No one bothered to dismiss the cadets, or direct
them to clothe themselves; for close to a minute they all stood there, unable
to decide what to do. There were a number of relieved exhalations but no talk,
until Brian said, "In two hours I'm due on watch." He put on his shirt, pants,
and shoes, bundled the rest of his clothes into one hand, and walked away.
Whether the others followed his lead, he didn't know or care. But Sally Harker
entered their room while he was still putting the clothes away.
As she herself undressed, she said, "Peace take me, I've \inever\i been so
afraid. But he didn't kill anybody, after all. Do you suppose, Tregare, that
it's all a big hoax? A scare?"
Only one true answer. "No, I don't. This way the bastard can build up suspense
more. That's all."
If Korbeith indeed enjoyed playing cat-and-mouse, he had little patience for
it. On Tregare's second-next duty stint, about halfway through, came the
"Airlock drill!" call. Rising from the comm board, Bran turned to the watch
officer: "Relief, sir?" The man nodded, and Bran took off in sprint gear:
Control was the topmost inhabited upship level, so of all the cadet group he
had the farthest to go. He took stairs in three and four-step jumps, and when
he came to a vacant flight, no one in his way, took a flying leap, a quick
grab at the handrail, and swung to take a free bound to the next deck.
And still, by about two seconds, he was last to assemble. Well, \ibluff,
dammit!\i Catching a deep breath he took a good cadet brace and threw Korbeith
his best salute. "Cadet Tregare, sir, reporting directly from watch duty!"
Explanation, not excuse-and grudgingly, the Butcher nodded.
"So fall in, cadet." And then the smiling guard gave the orders to strip, and
again they all stood side by side while Korbeith stalked down the line. Bran
struggled to get his pulse and breathing down to normal. There was nothing he
could do about his fear, except try to conceal it.
While they all waited . . .
79
So quiet. From well along the line, Bran could hear Korbeith's gravel-mumbled
threats. "If you shape up, you might be \iworth\i spacing out the lock."
"Can't imagine why Arbogast passed you."
Long pause, and the chronic scowl intensified. "I'm saving you for later." To
Bran's right stood
Megan Delange. In his peripheral vision he could see that her knees were
shaking as Korbeith moved
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