'Maybe we had better drop this subject, Matt. It seems to make your mother nervous.'
'But, Dad, she asked me.'
'I know. But you still haven't told me what you inspect for.'
'Well, in the first place, you inspect the bomb itself, but there's never anything wrong with the bomb. Anyhow, I haven't had the course for bomb- officer yet-he has to be a nucleonics engineer. You inspect the rocket motor, especially the fuel tanks. Sometimes you have to replace a little that has escaped through relief valves. But mostly you give her a ballistic check and check her control circuits.'
'Ballistic check?'
'Of course, theoretically you ought to be able to predict where a prowler bomb would be every instant for the next thousand years. But it doesn't work out that way. Little things, the effect of the tidal bulges and the fact that the Earth is not a perfect uniform sphere and such, cause them to gradually wander a little away from the predicted orbits. After you find one and service it-they're never very far from where they ought to be-you correct the orbit by putting the whole ship in just precisely the proper trajectory and then put the rocket outside the ship again. Then you go after the next one.'
'Clear enough. And these corrections have to be made often enough that a ship is kept busy just inspecting them?'
'Well, no, Dad, we inspect oftener than we really have to-but it keeps the ship and the crew busy. Keeps it from getting monotonous. Anyhow, frequent inspections keep you on the safe side.'
'Sounds like a waste of taxpayers' money to inspect too often.'
'But you don't understand-we're not there to inspect; we're there to patrol. The inspection ship is the ship that would deliver an attack in case anybody started acting up. We have to stay on patrol until the next ship relieves us, so we might as well inspect. Granted that you can bomb a city from Moon Base, you can do a better, more accurate job, with less chance of hitting the wrong people, from close by.'
His mother was looking very upset. His father raised his eyebrows and said, 'We've wandered back to the subject of bombing, Matt.'
'I was simply answering your questions, sir.'
'I'm afraid I asked the wrong question. Your mother is not able to take the answers impersonally. Catherine, there isn't the slightest chance of the North American Union being bombed. Tell her that, Matt-I think she'll believe you.'
Matt had remained silent. His father had insisted, 'Go ahead, Matt. Catherine, after all, it's our Patrol. For all practical purposes the other nations don't count. A majority of the Patrol officers are from North America, That's true, Matt, isn't it?'
'I've never thought about it I guess so.'
'Very well. Now, Catherine, you can't imagine Matt bombing Des Moines, now can you? And that is what it amounts to. Tell, her, Matt.'
'But- Dad, you don't know what you are saying!'
'What? What's that, young man!'
'I-' Matt had looked around him, then had gotten up very suddenly and left the room.
His father came into his room some time later. 'Matt?'
'Yes, sir?'
'Look, Matt, I let the conversation get out of hand tonight. I'm sorry and I don't blame you for getting upset. Your mother, you know. I try to protect her. Women get worked up so easily.'
'It's all right, Dad. I'm sorry I walked out'
'No matter. Let's forget it. There's just one thing I feel we ought to get straight on. I know that you feel loyal to the Patrol and its ideals and it's good that you should, but-well, you are a little young still to see the political realities involved, but you must know that the Patrol could not bomb the North American Union.'
'It would in a show down!'
'But there won't be any show down. Even if there were, you couldn't bomb your own people and neither could your shipmates.'
Matt thought about it, fiercely. He remembered Commander Rivera-one of the Four, of the proud Tradition-how Rivera, sent down to reason with the official in his own capital, his very native city, had kept the trust. Suspecting that he might be held as hostage, he had left orders to go ahead with the attack unless he returned in person to cancel the orders. Rivera, whose body was decaying radioactive dust but whose name was mustered whenever a unit of the Patrol called the roll.
His father was still talking. 'Of course, the Patrol has to patrol this continent just as it patrols all through the
System. It would look bad, otherwise this is no reason to frighten women with an impossibility.'
'I'd rather not talk about it, Dad.'
Matt glanced at his watch and figured how long it would be until the New Moon reached Terra Station. He wished he could sleep, like the others. He was sure now what it was that had changed his mind about resigning and remaining in Des Moines. It was not a desire to emulate Rivera. No, it was an accumulation of things-all of them adding up to just one idea, that little Mattie didn't live there any more!
For the first few weeks after leave, Matt was too busy to fret. He .had to get back into the treadmill, with more studying to do and less time to do it in. He was on the watch list for cadet officer of the watch now, and had more laboratory periods in electronics and nucleonics as well. Besides this he shared with other oldsters the responsibility for bringing up the youngster cadets. Before; leave his evenings had usually been free for study, now he coached youngsters in astrogation three nights a week.
He was beginning to think that he would have to give up space polo, when he found himself elected captain of the Hog Alley team. Then he was busier than ever. He hardly thought about abstract problems until his next session; with Lieutenant Wong. j
'Good afternoon,' his coach greeted him. 'How's your class in astrogation?' 1
'Oh, that - It seems funny to be teaching it instead of flunking it.' ;
'That's why you're stuck with it-you still remember what it was that used to stump you and why. How about atomics?'
'Well ... I suppose I'll get by, but 111 never be an Einstein.'
'I'd be amazed if you were. How are you getting along otherwise?' Wong waited.
'All right, I. guess. Do you know, Mr. Wong-when I went] on leave I didn't intend to come back.'
'I rather thought so. That space-marines notion was just your way of dodging around, trying to avoid your real problem.'
'Oh. Say, Mr. Wong-tell me straight. Are you a regular Patrol officer, or a psychiatrist?'
Wong almost grinned. 'I'm a regular Patrol officer, Matt, but I've had the special training required for this job.'
'Uh, I see. What was it I was running away from?'
'I don't know. You tell me.'
'I don't know where to start.'
'Tell me about your leave, then. We've got all afternoon.'
'Yes, sir.' Matt meandered along, telling as much as he could remember. 'So you see,' he concluded, 'it was a lot of little things. I was home-but I was a stranger. We didn't talk the same language.'
Wong chuckled. 'I'm not laughing at you,' he apologized. 'It isn't funny. We all go through it-the discovery that there's no way to go back. It's part of growing up- but with spacemen it's an especially acute and savage process.'
Matt nodded. 'I'd already gotten that through my thick head. Whatever happens I won't go back-not to stay. I might go into the merchant service, but I'll stay in space.'
'You're not likely to flunk out at this stage, Matt.'
'Maybe not, but I don't know yet that the Patrol is the place for me. That's what bothers me.'
'Well... can you tell me about it?'
Matt tried. He related the conversation with his fattier and his mother that had gotten them all upset. 'It's this: if it comes to a show down, I'm expected to bomb my own home town. I'm not sure it's in me to do it. Maybe I don't belong here.'
