THE main function of Grayling Station was to provide a first taste of living and working in space. Nobody wanted to be whisked out to somewhere like the moon of Jupiter before realizing they weren't suited to it (or responsible for getting them back again!). Apart: from the instructors and regular crew who ran the place, its population consisted of a temporary association of transients who would be going on to other things.
The central axle like structure was known, understandably, as the Axle. The cylinders at the ends of the booms were called towers and designated North, East, South, West, the normal convention applying to the structure when viewed such that it rotated clockwise. South Tower contained the command and communications center, or Bridge, along with the armory and garrison space for the military contingent. The military presence comprised both the station's permanent force and new recruits undergoing familiarization training, and occupied a set of decks and compartments located "below" (i.e., outward from) the Bridge, known collectively as the Turret.
Here was where Linc and his companions found themselves, once again picking bunks and unpacking belongings, in the quarters set aside for cadet troops. Their uniforms now were pale gray—military-style, like those of the former instructors. It was a very different environment from the previous ones, however—of cramped space and metal walls, where the floor throbbed to the hum of invisible machinery and the air smelled of hot oil. The company they found themselves among was different too from what they had become used to. Besides the wider range of ages, there was a watchfulness about the new faces around them that reminded Linc of the first days at Coulie—the silent assessment by people accustomed to possibly threatening situations, not yet sure of what to expect. Many of them had prior military backgrounds, he sensed—possibly from anywhere the world over. This could be a whole new chapter of learning experience.
And there was one face—one for the time being at least—that was familiar. When Linc, after stowing his kit in his new quarters, went to check out the general messroom in the hour of free time they had been given to get their bearings, a voice called out at him when he had barely entered the room. "Hey, don't tell me . . . . Yes, it is! Linc! Why am I not totally surprised to see you here?"
It was Little Mac from Coulie, turning away from a serving hatch in one wall. He was holding a plate of sausage, fries, and beans, and a mug of something hot, and looked as if he was about to join three other cadets at the end of one of the room's two long tables.
"Mackerel!" Linc shook his head. "I don't believe this! How long have you been here? . . . Where'd you come here from?"
"Since two days ago. Grab yourself some tea or something and sit down . . . . Guys, this is Linc, a buddy who was on the prep course I went through. Linc, these are Arch, Gus, and Willie. Hey, why not move along there and make a little room? . . ."
Linc took a tea and joined them at the end of the bench seat running along the wall. Arch and Gus had arrived with Mackerel from what sounded like another Phase Two that the other half from Coulie had been routed to—held somewhere near Boston. They both wore the blue mountain-peak shoulder patch that signified having gone through Phase One at Meyer Flat in Colorado, and they knew Rocky and the others when Linc mentioned them. Willie had come via an independent route not connected with the program. He said he'd joined the military-training scheme because it offered space-pilot training, and he was going to join an uncle who was in the Outzone already. The news on others Linc had known was that Big Mac had an academic flair that surprised everyone, and was hoping to go into engineering; someone in the Boston course had pulled a knife on Vie, but come out the worse for it and been RPO'd—Vie was okay; Kew had dropped out, apparently preferring an option that had to do with family connections. And, yes, in answer to Linc's question, Rick, who had bunked next to him at Coulie, had been at Boston too . . . . Mackerel wasn't sure what was happening with him.
Linc responded with high points of the news from Texas. Flash from Coulie had also opted for a technical line in the military and had come up with Linc. Mace was here too, or very soon would be, fixing to become a rigger. The big item that Mackerel might be interested in was that Arvin was not only in the cadet school as well, but had also been on the same shuttle. "In fact, he was sorting out his stuff on the billet deck downstairs when I left," Linc concluded. "He'll probably show up here in a few minutes."
"Jeez . . . . That's all we need," Mackerel said. He looked stunned.
"Who's Arvin?" Willie asked. He was mild mannered, with dark hair and a nervous smile. The obvious familiarity between the others was probably a little intimidating for him.
Mackerel waved a hand in the air. "Oh, big guy with a pretty blond wavy head, built like a truck. You'll know him when you see him."
"Is he the one on the climbing trip you were telling us about, Mac?" Gus asked. The one who . . ." He broke off and looked at Linc with sudden realization on his face. "Linc! You're the guy who had the standoff with the hard case and his two buddies . . . "
"That's right. Vie was one of them," Arch interrupted.
Gus had dark coloring, a snub nose and wrinkly features permanently set in a thick-lipped frown as if experiencing a bad odor. "That Vie can be real mean when he wants." He nodded. "Yep. You've gotta be a natural for the army, Linc. Welcome aboard, man."
"Right. It's good to meet you." Arch thrust out an eager hand and smiled broadly, evidently impressed. He was lean with pinky eyes, like a rabbit's, and was sporting a wisp of a beard.
"So who's this Arvin?" Willie asked again.
"One of that kind who'll push you around if you let him," Mackerel said. "Just don't let him get away with it if he tries." Willie didn't look very happy.
"Don't look so worried. You'll be okay," Gus told him. "We'll look out for you. Right, guys?"
"As a matter of fact, I think you'll find he's mellowed out some since you last saw him," Linc confided, looking at Mackerel. A hint of mischief flickered in his eye, which he didn't try to hide.
"What happened?" Mackerel asked.
"Oh . . . you'll probably hear soon enough."
"Come on, Linc. What's wrong with now?"
At that moment another cadet uniform appeared in the doorway, and Rocky entered. This time it was Arch and Gus's turn to yell out in delight. "Forget about Arvin for now," Linc said to Mackerel. He motioned with his eyes and inclined his head. "Here's another guy that you have to meet . . ."
The rest of the "day"—the regular twenty-four-hour period was observed, although it corresponded to no natural or other kind of cycle on Grayling—was taken up with introductory formalities and instruction on the command system and function of Grayling's military presence. Unlike the brief spell in Yucatan, where life had anticipated the freer pattern of the rest of the station, the routine in the Turret was styled upon military discipline and fastidiousness of detail. In some ways Linc's first impressions were that his existence had regressed from the quality it had attained at Coulie and Seville Trace to something more like the detention conditions he had known previously. A crop-headed sergeant called Schultz, who was in charge of cadet basic training, shouted incessantly and was satisfied by nothing. Every minor infraction became a reason for personal degradation and abuse. Linc gritted his teeth and reminded himself that he had chosen to accept it.
Late that night, in a brief relaxation period before lights-out, he made his way to one of the outer compartments with an observation window and stared silently at the panorama of space surrounding them. The day had been so busy that this was really the first chance he'd had to reflect on where he was, and actually to feel within himself something of what it meant. It was one of the few times in his life—maybe the first, truly—in which he had been conscious of a feeling of genuine awe.
He remembered how, up among the Sierra peaks, he had sat in the night with Patch, marveling that there could be so many stars, and so bright. But that had been nothing compared with this. Here, the night had a quality of infinite depth that no experience on Earth could ever capture, the stars and the voids between them brilliant with hues he had never dreamed existed. The whole, enormous constellation, a huge, half-lit Moon of unfamiliar surface markings in the foreground, wheeled before him on the far side of the rounded bulk of the Axle and the distant, foreshortened lines of the North Tower continuing beyond that. And Earth itself? Not a trace. Everything he had ever known, all the places he had been, as well as the thousands more never glimpsed and as many again never heard of—were eclipsed permanently on the far side of the Moon. All of it could have been swallowed in an instant by a universe that would never even notice.
Yet along with the wonder, there was a sense of loss—all the greater for having been so briefly glimpsed.
All around him were miracles worked in precise shapes of metal. Suddenly the shell enclosing him seemed very thin and fragile. His very life depended on the knowledge and skills of those who had designed and built it. People had once called him a brute, and he had believed them because that was all he had known. It had become his source of pride. Then others who knew powers of creating instead of destroying had shown him a part of himself that was better. That was what he had thought would grow and become a new person in a new life among the stars. Now, it seemed, he was to remain forever a destroyer. He wanted to believe that the callous verdict was wrong. But who was he to be so sure? And even if he convinced himself, why should he expect that it would change the minds of those who understood so much more?
Beyond the gleaming metallic lines of the North Tower, the Moon slid slowly upward, out of sight. Linc turned away and headed back to the billeting deck to bed down for his first night in space.