Star Rebel by F M Busby

Author:F M Busby [Busby, F M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780708882368
Google: vBW5AAAACAAJ
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group Limited
Published: 1984-07-15T09:34:00+00:00

That opportunity came when he drew spacewalk detail, bringing up the end of the life line while once again the cadet group donned suits and marched a long slanting oval around the Tamurlaine's hull. This time he knew there'd be pauses for inspection of hullside gear: outside camera modules, antenna arrays, and so forth. So, with any luck, time for talking.

He didn't have to arrange anything; Polder herself made sure she was next ahead of him in line. Leaning to help check her suit closures, he spoke quietly. "First substantial inspection stop, we turn off our suit radios and touch helmets. Private talk; okay?"

"Oh, yes!" Her eyes widened, and he knew she'd taken his meaning wrong. Damn all!

The lead group entered the lock; it cycled and they went out. Bran's group, he trailing, followed. The lines were connected. Just like on the Mac, Bran thought, except that he wasn't Plastic Smile, out to kill a cadet. The slow, clomping walk began.

Polder was probably goggling at the velocity-distorted view of space. By now, Bran was used to it; he waited for a stop that would last long enough for him to speak his piece. The first-to view a cluster of viewscreen inputs-was too brief, and so was a pause to inspect turret-ranging antennas. But then the group reached the smaller, topside air lock.

Too bad Polder would have to miss the lecture, but there'd be other exposures to that. Bran made a switchoff sign to her. As he turned his own communicator off, he saw her make a nod.

Gently, not to give noisy impact, he touched his helmet to hers. "Polder? I have to tell you something."

"Yes. I know." Very faint, her voice. "And I will. Any time you want me. Just ask."

"No, dammit! I mean, that's what I need to say. Cadets and officers can't fraternize that way; the captain won't stand for it. So forget the idea." He heard her gulp breath, and said, "Cadet, on this ship you're walking a tightrope. So am I. Don't let's get them crossed and raise our risks. You understand?"

"I-I guess so. May I still-?" But the life line jerked at her, and then as she moved with it, at Tregare. He turned his radio on and motioned for her to do the same. The tour went on.

Back inside, everyone unsuiting, he saw her looking at him. Where her look fell-between reproach and resentment-he couldn't know. But when she spoke to him after that, the circumstances were always public and her address almost stiffly formal.

He hated it-and at the same time, felt somewhat relieved.

- Next time Tregare walked the ship hullside, it was in a power suit. Monteffial was in the other one, the two linked by a lifeline and further safeguarded by remote-control magnetic anchors at the line's ends. Purpose of the excursion was visual inspection of Drive nodes (through nine-nines-dark filters) at the ship's stern, and projector turret muzzles at the bow-with a perfunctory check, between antenna systems.

The drill was a bit cumbersome, but not hard to get used to.

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