the brig. I’ll handcuff and haul each and every one of them if I have to!”
“You can’t take the time, sir.” Borden shook her head. “One thing they are very good at is disappearing when they don’t want to be found. They’ll come back when they’re good and ready. We’ll help you clean. There’s plenty of time.”
“The bots will help us,” Thielind promised. He hoisted the malfunctioning automaton and carried it with him.
“Damn them, what were they thinking?” Daivid stormed.
The junior officers followed him in silence, giving Daivid plenty of time to think about what he would do to the company when he found them. Keelhauling? If he could find a keel, he’d tie them all end to end and sling them underneath it until …
“Whoo!” Thielind whistled. “Someone musta had a party in here. It looks worse than when I left, around 0300.” He put the cleanerbot on the floor and flipped open its maintenance lid. “There. It’ll work like new.”
“Good,” said Wolfe. “Now I want you to go out and find them. Tell them that if they are not back here, clean, sober and in their dress whites by 1100 hours their asses will be grass. Is that clear?”
“Yessir!” Thielind said. “Aye aye.” The skinny ensign scooted out of the door.
Borden put her hands on her hips. “It’s not as bad as it looks, sir,” she said. “Between us we can get this done in an hour.”
“Where do we start?” Wolfe asked, looking at the mess in dismay.
“Bathroom last,” she suggested. “It’s what we’ll be clearing the rest of the mess into. Dusting first. The robots will take care of that. Then beds.”
They turned the cleanerbots loose on the dusting and clearing up of the debris from the party, but the beds had to be done by hand. That was a longstanding service tradition. The custom of spacers, in fact members of all branches of the armed forces, straightening up their own sleeping pads was one that went back all the way to Old Earth. No matter what else, no matter what services or technology were available, each man or woman or whatever had to make the bed. Wolfe thought it was a stupid throwback, but rules were rules. Until he was in a position to change them, he had to follow them. He snapped out a sheet, the harsh sound reflecting his bad mood. How dare the Cockroaches flout his order? he thought, stuffing in loose ends with a knife-sharp hand. What the hell was the matter with them?
He was furious to realize that they held the cards on this one. He could report them. X-Ray Company would all have to face dereliction of duty punishment, but they didn’t care. They were already in the worst unit in the service. But he, he would be removed from command as being unable to hold his own with them. First impressions: if he was perceived as inept from the very beginning he would have no chance of changing that perception once it got into the minds of the brass. As badly as the people upstairs wanted him out of the regular chain of command they couldn’t leave him in charge of a band of creative screwups. Listening to them last night had convinced him they were guilty of far more than the service had been able to prove. That uncertainty was why they continued to wear the uniform. They had outmaneuvered him first time out of the gate. He had to find a way to turn that around.
Still, there was a homey satisfaction to completing a simple task like making beds. By the third bunk he found himself falling into a rhythm, bending, shaking out the sheets, tucking in the corners.
“This takes me all the way back to summer camp,” he said to Borden, thumping a pillow between his hands. “My dad used to send us to Parker’s Planet for eight weeks every year. It took a week’s transit to get there, and another back again. Those were good times.” Ah, those were the days, he thought, slinging the pillow against the headrail. He had a vision of those carefree summers, full of swimming, hiking, sleeping out of
“You can’t take the time, sir.” Borden shook her head. “One thing they are very good at is disappearing when they don’t want to be found. They’ll come back when they’re good and ready. We’ll help you clean. There’s plenty of time.”
“The bots will help us,” Thielind promised. He hoisted the malfunctioning automaton and carried it with him.
“Damn them, what were they thinking?” Daivid stormed.
The junior officers followed him in silence, giving Daivid plenty of time to think about what he would do to the company when he found them. Keelhauling? If he could find a keel, he’d tie them all end to end and sling them underneath it until …
“Whoo!” Thielind whistled. “Someone musta had a party in here. It looks worse than when I left, around 0300.” He put the cleanerbot on the floor and flipped open its maintenance lid. “There. It’ll work like new.”
“Good,” said Wolfe. “Now I want you to go out and find them. Tell them that if they are not back here, clean, sober and in their dress whites by 1100 hours their asses will be grass. Is that clear?”
“Yessir!” Thielind said. “Aye aye.” The skinny ensign scooted out of the door.
Borden put her hands on her hips. “It’s not as bad as it looks, sir,” she said. “Between us we can get this done in an hour.”
“Where do we start?” Wolfe asked, looking at the mess in dismay.
“Bathroom last,” she suggested. “It’s what we’ll be clearing the rest of the mess into. Dusting first. The robots will take care of that. Then beds.”
They turned the cleanerbots loose on the dusting and clearing up of the debris from the party, but the beds had to be done by hand. That was a longstanding service tradition. The custom of spacers, in fact members of all branches of the armed forces, straightening up their own sleeping pads was one that went back all the way to Old Earth. No matter what else, no matter what services or technology were available, each man or woman or whatever had to make the bed. Wolfe thought it was a stupid throwback, but rules were rules. Until he was in a position to change them, he had to follow them. He snapped out a sheet, the harsh sound reflecting his bad mood. How dare the Cockroaches flout his order? he thought, stuffing in loose ends with a knife-sharp hand. What the hell was the matter with them?
He was furious to realize that they held the cards on this one. He could report them. X-Ray Company would all have to face dereliction of duty punishment, but they didn’t care. They were already in the worst unit in the service. But he, he would be removed from command as being unable to hold his own with them. First impressions: if he was perceived as inept from the very beginning he would have no chance of changing that perception once it got into the minds of the brass. As badly as the people upstairs wanted him out of the regular chain of command they couldn’t leave him in charge of a band of creative screwups. Listening to them last night had convinced him they were guilty of far more than the service had been able to prove. That uncertainty was why they continued to wear the uniform. They had outmaneuvered him first time out of the gate. He had to find a way to turn that around.
Still, there was a homey satisfaction to completing a simple task like making beds. By the third bunk he found himself falling into a rhythm, bending, shaking out the sheets, tucking in the corners.
“This takes me all the way back to summer camp,” he said to Borden, thumping a pillow between his hands. “My dad used to send us to Parker’s Planet for eight weeks every year. It took a week’s transit to get there, and another back again. Those were good times.” Ah, those were the days, he thought, slinging the pillow against the headrail. He had a vision of those carefree summers, full of swimming, hiking, sleeping out of
Similar Books
