speak to an upperclassman, the first word out of your mouth will be 'sir.' The last word out of your mouth will be 'sir.' Both the words are the same; I hope they won't strain your puerile little memory." He looked at me, a corner of his mouth twisted up.
"Sir. Yes—"
"Second lesson, Cadet Candidate von du Mark. Except when answering a question, you do not address an upper-classman without asking permission."
Pray tell, how do I ask permission to talk to you? Would you like me to stick a love note in your shorts?
I thought it, but I didn't say that—this fellow had me fully intimidated.
"Very good. You have your orders with you?"
"Y-sir. Yes, sir." I don't know what it was, but this Brubaker person actually had me stuttering as I reached for my hip pocket.
"I didn't ask to see them," he said.
As I let my hand drop to my side, he sneered again. "They read in part, and I quote, '. . . inasmuch as you have accepted Cadet Candidate status, you are required to report, utilizing public transportation, to the Thousand Worlds Naval Academy at New Haven NAF on 4 September 2247.' Correct?"
"Yes."
He pretended not to hear me.
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Very well. Now, for your information, Mister von du Mark, the Whale that just landed is the last regularly scheduled public carrier due into New Haven before the reporting deadline, and of all the six hundred-odd cadet candidates, all but one had either previously reported or were on that shuttle.
"Further—and again for your information—there are thirty-four cadet candidates sitting aboard a non-air-conditioned bus that is supposed to carry them immediately to the Academy, and I suspect that these, your future classmates, are none too pleased with you for blithely choosing to disobey the orders that said you were to report by public, and not private, transportation, and—yes, what is it?"
"Sir. The Hummingbird, sir, that I came in on, sir?"
"You didn't ask permission. But never mind—speak up, Cadet Candidate, speak up."
"Sir, it's owned and operated by the Public Transport division of the company that owns the Whale, sir. I believe that means that it is public transportation, sir."
"Huh?"
"Sir, my . . . father is von du Mark of Mark Airways, sir."
"Nicely put." Brubaker's smile grew broader; I had the feeling that he already knew that.
"Very, very good, Cadet Candidate von du Mark. Let me give you some more information. There are two things in the universe that I absolutely despise: rich boys, and barracks lawyers. Despite that, despite the fact that you are both of the things that I most despise, you might notice that I'm smiling. Have you noticed that, Cadet Candidate von du Mark?"
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Doesn't it impress you as strange that I'd be smiling, given the situation?"
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Oh? You think I'm strange, do you? Never mind, Mister, we can discuss your lack of respect for an upper-classman later. The reason that I'm smiling, Mark, is that it is going to be my great personal pleasure to run your rich barracks lawyer's ass out of the Academy. Now, about that landing of yours—did you override the autopilot?"
As I opened my mouth to deny the accusation, he raised a warning finger. "Say whatever you want now, Cadet Candidate von du Mark. Right now, you're a cadet candidate—but if you pass your physical and take the oath, you will be a cadet—of sorts—and cadets don't lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate others who do. Understood?"
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Now, was that a legal landing?"
I didn't say anything. He probably couldn't kick me out for it, but he might try.
"Very good, Cadet Candidate von du Mark, very good. There's nothing in the honor code that forbids a cadet from standing mute." He held out a palm. "Oh, and I'll have your phone—we don't need you crying on your mommy's shoulder. Now ."
Reluctantly, I handed it over. He set it gently on the floor and then ground it under his heel.
"Get on the bus."
The Dutchman chuckled. "Damn, but this
"Sir. Yes—"
"Second lesson, Cadet Candidate von du Mark. Except when answering a question, you do not address an upper-classman without asking permission."
Pray tell, how do I ask permission to talk to you? Would you like me to stick a love note in your shorts?
I thought it, but I didn't say that—this fellow had me fully intimidated.
"Very good. You have your orders with you?"
"Y-sir. Yes, sir." I don't know what it was, but this Brubaker person actually had me stuttering as I reached for my hip pocket.
"I didn't ask to see them," he said.
As I let my hand drop to my side, he sneered again. "They read in part, and I quote, '. . . inasmuch as you have accepted Cadet Candidate status, you are required to report, utilizing public transportation, to the Thousand Worlds Naval Academy at New Haven NAF on 4 September 2247.' Correct?"
"Yes."
He pretended not to hear me.
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Very well. Now, for your information, Mister von du Mark, the Whale that just landed is the last regularly scheduled public carrier due into New Haven before the reporting deadline, and of all the six hundred-odd cadet candidates, all but one had either previously reported or were on that shuttle.
"Further—and again for your information—there are thirty-four cadet candidates sitting aboard a non-air-conditioned bus that is supposed to carry them immediately to the Academy, and I suspect that these, your future classmates, are none too pleased with you for blithely choosing to disobey the orders that said you were to report by public, and not private, transportation, and—yes, what is it?"
"Sir. The Hummingbird, sir, that I came in on, sir?"
"You didn't ask permission. But never mind—speak up, Cadet Candidate, speak up."
"Sir, it's owned and operated by the Public Transport division of the company that owns the Whale, sir. I believe that means that it is public transportation, sir."
"Huh?"
"Sir, my . . . father is von du Mark of Mark Airways, sir."
"Nicely put." Brubaker's smile grew broader; I had the feeling that he already knew that.
"Very, very good, Cadet Candidate von du Mark. Let me give you some more information. There are two things in the universe that I absolutely despise: rich boys, and barracks lawyers. Despite that, despite the fact that you are both of the things that I most despise, you might notice that I'm smiling. Have you noticed that, Cadet Candidate von du Mark?"
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Doesn't it impress you as strange that I'd be smiling, given the situation?"
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Oh? You think I'm strange, do you? Never mind, Mister, we can discuss your lack of respect for an upper-classman later. The reason that I'm smiling, Mark, is that it is going to be my great personal pleasure to run your rich barracks lawyer's ass out of the Academy. Now, about that landing of yours—did you override the autopilot?"
As I opened my mouth to deny the accusation, he raised a warning finger. "Say whatever you want now, Cadet Candidate von du Mark. Right now, you're a cadet candidate—but if you pass your physical and take the oath, you will be a cadet—of sorts—and cadets don't lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate others who do. Understood?"
"Sir. Yes, sir."
"Now, was that a legal landing?"
I didn't say anything. He probably couldn't kick me out for it, but he might try.
"Very good, Cadet Candidate von du Mark, very good. There's nothing in the honor code that forbids a cadet from standing mute." He held out a palm. "Oh, and I'll have your phone—we don't need you crying on your mommy's shoulder. Now ."
Reluctantly, I handed it over. He set it gently on the floor and then ground it under his heel.
"Get on the bus."
The Dutchman chuckled. "Damn, but this
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