Chapter 4

Kwait sat gingerly on the edge of his bed. He was sure he hadn’t gone to sleep under fourteen tons of concrete but surely that’s what must have happened. Why else would his body feel this way?

The dormitory around him was full of muscular young physiques all dashing around chatting and enjoying a bit of horseplay. Some were even exercising while he could hardly bloody move!

The super-fit young pile of biceps and teeth sat on the bed opposite asked, “Feeling a bit stiff, Doctor Naize?”

“A little,” said Kwait massaging the small of his back. He couldn’t quite remember the young man’s name. Jacor Zac or Mac or something.

“Don’t worry. You’ll soon get used to it. This morning’s run will loosen you up. You know,” the boy looked serious for a moment, “I could only do forty press-ups when I first arrived.”

“Really?”Kwait managed to avoid snarling.

“Yeah.So don’t worry. You’ll soon get into the swing of things. See ya .” The young man showed Kwait even more of his teeth and jogged off. Kwait gave a half-hearted wave, grabbed his towel and headed for what he hoped would be a hot reviving shower.

“ Day two,” thought Kwait bitterly. “ God, how time flies! ”

*

Day one had been a non-stop round of sit-ups, push-ups, bench-presses and knee-bends with a few non-hyphenated exercises like running and jumping thrown in for good measure. Kwait’s mind had become strangely detached as he watched his body stagger and wheeze in the wake of Streemly’s effortless and unruffled performance demonstrating a young body at its peak. Day two promised more of the same plus some drill rehearsal. In three minutes he and Streemly were due in sound room 17, where they would learn the drill songs. Drill songs, Kwait had read in the booklet

“A guide to enjoying your stay at Space Rehearsal Station 87”, were the chants used when jogging in formation to and from the various areas of physical torture.

*

Kwait had just managed to get his left trainer on at the second attempt when the announcement came over the speaker system.

BING BONG – “COULD DOCTORS NAIZE AND NAIZE ...” The sing-song voiceof a young women , with what sounded like a terminal nasal congestion problem, split the air. “... PLEASE

REPORT TO THE P A V M ORIENTATION CHAMBER 5 ON SUB-LEVEL 26.”

“ Saved!” thought Kwait with relief as the message was repeated. “ But what the hell was P A V M?”

*

“ Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!Isn’t this great?” Streemly shot passed Kwait, tumbling wildly as she went. Kwait waved his arms around madly, sickened by the zero-gravity field.

“ P A V M!” thought Kwait bitterly. “ What’s wrong with Space suit anyway? Personal Anti Vacuum Module! Pah ! ”

“Come on Pops. You can do it.” Streemly’s encouraging remarks did nothing for Kwait’s temper.

“As soon as I walked through that inter-spatial connection device and saw what was going on in here I should have thrown myself out of the nearest environmental viewer !” he said with dripping sarcasm.

“ Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”Streemly whizzed passed Kwait once more performing a sickening horizontal cartwheel.

*

Three weeks of hell at Space Rehearsal Station 87 were behind them. Kwait and Streemly were now keenly aware of the numerous ways a person could die in space. They had decided the previous evening over a celebratory chawoo lager, or several, that it was worth the risk. The unknown beckoned. Although still a little stiff, Kwait thought he hadn’t felt this good in years. Fit as a flea and ready for action.Intellectual action anyway. He was ready for space.

Kwait had a mental image of himself decked out in a brilliant white suit covered in zip pockets, mysterious tubes and lots of dangly bits. He would be carrying a shiny metallic briefcase and striding purposefully in slow motion across the tarmac towards the dome of an immense white spacecraft. The huge vehicle, crouched and eager to spring into space, would seem to rise out of the ground as he approached it. He would salute the deferential ground crew and disappear aboard through a cloud of steam. Kwait wasn’t sure about the cloud of steam. Probably had its roots in the comics he was fond of as a child.

The reality did not quite match Kwait’s romantic ideal. It was just like an airport. Chuck your baggage onto a conveyor belt and walk down some long, brightly lit passages that terminate with two smiling stewardesses. Finally end up in a cramped but adequate seat reading detailed instructions on what position to adopt should the shuttle decide to plunge into the ground at several thousand miles per hour. The vertical trip to the battle cruiser orbiting Horridoa was amazing. Both Naizes had their faces pressed against the observation port, soaking in the awesome sight of a diminishing planet floating in the void and then experiencing the heart-stopping immenseness of a Class A battle cruiser blotting out almost the entire field of view.

Tiny letters one hundred yards high were painted in red on the cruiser’s glistening white surface. MARSHIA. Kwait and Streemly looked at each other. “Marshia?” they chorused. A passing stewardess cleared things up. “All Class A battle cruisers are named after the Quantatronic brain which controls every aspect of the ship’s functionality. The Quantatronic brain and the ship are as one unit. They cannot function as separate entities.More chawoo tea?”

Kwait shook his head, momentarily dazed by the astounding clarity of the dark brown eyes and perfect white teeth setagainst a tan Yorkshire puddings would have been proud of.

“No thank you,” said Streemly. The stewardess continued on down the aisle dispensing tea and smiles.

“A Quantatronic brain,” said Streemly gazing out of the portal. “I’ve read about those.”

“Yes,” said Kwait.“The very latest thing in AI. I’ll be very interested to talk to it.”

“It must be strange to be so big,” said Streemly with the vague air of someone deep in thought.

“The AI won’t feel anything,” said Kwait. “It’s just a big machine.”

“I suppose,” said Streemly absently.

The stewardess passed by saying, “We’ll be docking in five minutes. Please make yourselves comfortable and place all weapons under your seat until we are docked. Thank you.”

: Marshia