McKenny spun around and glared. There was immediate silence.
"What's your name?" He turned back to the boy.
"Corbett, sir. Cadet Candidate Tom Corbett," answered the boy.
"Wanta be a spaceman, do ya?" asked Mike, pushing his jaw out another
inch.
"Yes, sir!"
"Been studying long hard hours in primary school, eh? Talked your mother
and father deaf in the ears to let you come to Space Academy and be a
spaceman! You want to feel those rockets bucking in your back out in the
stars? _EH?_"
"Yes, sir," replied Tom, wondering how this man he didn't even know
could know so much about him.
"_Well, you won't make it_ if I ever catch you disobeying orders again!"
McKenny turned quickly to see what effect he had created on the others.
The lines of bewildered faces satisfied him that his old trick of using
one of the cadets as an example was a success. He turned back to
Corbett.
"The only reason I'm not logging you now is because you're not a Space
Cadet yet--and won't be, until you've taken the Academy oath!"
"Yes, sir!"
McKenny walked down the line and across the platform to an open
teleceiver booth. The ranks were quiet and motionless, and as he made
his call, McKenny smiled. Finally, when the tension seemed unbearable,
he roared, "At ease!" and closed the door of the booth.
The ranks melted immediately and the boys fell into chattering clusters,
their voices low, and they occasionally peered over their shoulders at
Corbett as if he had suddenly been stricken with a horrible plague.
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