James could not fall asleep for long, tossing and turning on his bunk. He finally fell asleep, but it seemed he woke up only a second after his eyes had closed. All six lamps under the ceiling beamed a bright light over the entire sleeping quarters, forcing him to squint for a few seconds. The first one he saw once his eyes had adjusted to the light was Steve, standing near the bunk beds in nothing but his underpants.

‘Good morning,’ he said, smiling broadly.

‘Morning,’ James replied with a frown, not quite awake yet.

‘Uh-huh, fucking morning,’ Lewis’s voice came from the bunk beside James’s own. Steve turned to his voice.

‘What happened?’

‘Arghh…’ Lewis muttered unhappily, waving his hand. ‘I haven’t slept at all… and then that clock –’

‘Which clock?’

‘This one,’ Lewis nodded at the intercom screen above the table. ‘From your bunks, it’s invisible, but it’s right in front of my eyes from mine.’

‘Huh, big deal! Close your eyes and sleep,’ Steve replied with a grin.

‘Easy to say,’ Lewis continued grumbling, ‘not to mention your snoring.’

‘That was James.’ Steve seemed to be indignant. ‘I’ve never snored in my life!’

‘Hey, don’t shift the blame to others,’ said James, unzipping his sleeping bag and turning to find his flight suit. He had completely forgotten where he had put it.

‘Uh huh…’ Lewis nodded his head. ‘James wasn’t here yet last night, but I could hear someone snoring quite clearly.’

‘I never snored,’ Steve insisted. ‘Ask anyone! By the way, what time does your favourite clock say?’

‘Half past six.’

‘Oops! We have to be in the hangar at seven! Come on, lads, get a move on. We risk going without breakfast like yesterday,’ Steve began to pull on his T-shirt. Lewis jumped down with his flight suit in his hands.

‘What happened yesterday?’ asked James, noticing nobody in the sleeping quarters except them three. Probably, other fellows got up earlier.

‘We overslept a bit,’ said Lewis, hastily dressing, ‘and got to the mess at a quarter to seven. Rowling said this was not a resort for the faint-hearted but a military spacecraft and kicked us out. We had to starve until lunch.’

‘Yep,’ said Steve. ‘We’re going to have a lot of trouble with that bitch, I bet my bum. And Junkie… yesterday you said…’ he turned back to James, ‘…he stank of whisky?’

‘Looked like,’ James replied. ‘But I’m not sure.’

‘Whatever,’ Steve waved his hand. ‘Looks like, we’re going to have no less fucking problems with him.’

‘You can bet your bum?’ Lewis giggled.

‘Uh-huh…’

James finally found his flight suit on the rack above his bunk and missed the following words from Steve. Suddenly, Steve fell silent and stared at the entrance hatch. James followed his eyes and knew what had happened. Flight Sergeant Rowling stood behind the threshold. It seemed that seeing half-dressed boys did not bother her, but James felt slightly embarrassed. He jumped off the bunk and began to pull on his flight suit, trying not to look at Rowling. Steve and Lewis wasted no time, too. A minute later, all three stormed out of the sleeping quarters and ran to the mess, having no time for a shower. James thought it might be possible to drop by the shower room later.

Breakfast seemed no better than the dinner he had eaten yesterday. A ham omelette, as stated on the menu, was obviously of the same unnatural origin as the pork chop James could hardly bring himself to eat last evening. The coffee only smelled like real coffee. However, he did not have much time to enjoy the food, if there was anything to enjoy. The food at his Flying school was not the same as at home, but at least it was natural. The school cook cooked delicious meals, sourcing fresh vegetables and various tropical fruits from somewhere, obviously not a grocery store. James noticed that even the senior technicians, all sergeants, and warrant officers frowned at their quasi-omelettes. He left the mess in a bad mood and followed his companions, barely noticing where he was going until he found himself in the H deck hangar.

The hangar looked huge, stretching the whole, or almost the whole, length of the spacecraft. James remembered Max, the shuttle pilot, telling him the hangar was over two hundred metres long. It seemed that the hangar also took up part of G Deck. He still did not quite understand the configuration of that part of the spacecraft just thought that the rear bulkhead of their sleeping quarters might be part of the hangar bulkhead. Closer to the outer gateway, he saw several tarpaulin-covered fighter craft, one of which he thought was for him.

‘Are these our fighters?’ he asked, touching Steve and pointing to the silhouettes covered in tarpaulin. Steve shook his head.

‘Nope…’ he gestured with his head towards a group of pilots lined up across the Flight deck, ‘A-Flight…’

‘Fall in!’

The digital clock above the left airlock counted down the final seconds to seven, so they both hurried to take their places in the line along which Flight Sergeant Rowling had strolled with her cane under her arm, looking at them as they tried to line up by height. At that moment, the numbers 5 and 9 on the digital clock were replaced by two zeros, and the left entrance airlock opened as if by itself.

‘Shun!’

The command sounded sharp, making James shudder. Out of his eye corner, he noticed some of the technicians in the opposite row shuddering, too. But he failed to mark how he did all the movements necessary to carry out the command. The exercises which seemed unnecessary at the Flying School were not in vain. Meanwhile, a group of senior officers appeared in the hangar. The first was probably Wing Commander Burton (there were three blue stripes on the sleeves of his uniform), followed by two other officers. James thought the one might be the Deputy Commander, Squadron Leader King if he remembered the name correctly. The second officer was most likely Squadron Leader Sawyer. Both were dressed in flight suits, but the Wing Commander wore the traditional grey-blue uniform, which looked unusual inside a spacecraft.

‘Why didn’t we get such kinda uniform?’ asked Steve in a whisper, standing to the right of James, with a nod of his head towards the Squadron Commander.

‘Such kinda uniform costs a lot of money,’ whispered Lewis, standing on the left.

‘Huh, where would you go in a uniform like that,’ James whispered back, ‘to swab the deck?’

‘Maybe we’ll wear something like that someday,’ Steve said dreamily, almost in full voice.

‘Uh-huh,’ Lewis muttered, ‘in a coffin.’

‘Go to hell!’

‘Stop talking!’ Flight Sergeant Rowling’s whistling whisper had silenced all three. ‘Squadron, salute the front, salute!’

Once again, James had made all the movements automatically without even realising it. The Flight Sergeant was already marching towards the commander.

He continued to look around the Flight Deck, trying not to turn his head. It seemed to him that several pilots and technicians were doing the same, although he was the only one attending this for the first time. The airlock connecting the hangar to the other spacecraft compartments was oval and double. Each time the outer gateway opened and the hangar was depressurised, massive slabs were lowered to reliably isolate the remaining parts of the spacecraft from the airless space. At this time, it was possible to be here wearing only a spacesuit. James had seen something similar in the training craft, but the hangar of the training craft was considerably smaller. Meanwhile, Fight Sergeant Rowling had finished her report and stepped back.

‘Stand at ease!’

The Squadron commander took a few steps forward and stood almost opposite James.

‘Firstly, I’d like to say a few words about our upcoming mission,’ he began. ‘As you should know, our squadron’s missions and all the other Joint Forces missions have been limited to patrolling the inner part of the Solar System. However, the Western Alliance Joint Command has now decided to extend the security zone. That means we have to operate in deep space. But that’s not all. Of particular importance is the fact of our new spacecraft. I say our spacecraft because we are not just guests here. We are the main defence against the enemy. The Endurance, you might say, is the latest in technology, the result of the efforts of many of our best scientists and engineers. Moreover, the spacecraft has just undergone modernisation, bringing it closer in technical characteristics to those spacecraft not yet commissioned, which should give us a stable position in this protracted war, which has already cost us many lives. I won’t even talk about lost spacecraft because compared to human life, tin doesn’t matter. But we have a serious problem that affects us directly. I mean our squadron. This problem is…’

It seemed to James the Squadron commander was now looking directly at him, although, more likely, it only seemed.

‘…Some of our newcomers haven’t had enough experience yet. This means that we have to correct this serious shortcoming, which is due to lack of time. Fortunately, we still have the opportunity to carry out a series of training exercises. The first of these will begin after we’ve reached Neptune’s orbit, where our spacecraft is expected to wait for an escort. That doesn’t mean we have nothing to do for the next month and a half. First of all, no one is yet ready to rule out the possibility of an enemy incursion into the inner reaches of the Solar System. So we’ll be on high alert at all times. Secondly, we can continue the training process on board because we have all the technical facilities. All Flight commanders have already been briefed on the latest instructions from the Joint Command, which we received yesterday. I ask all of you to concentrate on carrying out the tasks that have been assigned to you.’

Wing Commander Burton fell silent and stepped back …

… The dismissal order sounded; the lineup was mixed; the huge hangar filled with a hum of voices over which James could barely hear the voice of his Flight commander ordering his subordinates to assemble in Hangar Number 6 on J Deck within the next ten minutes.

James was about to run to the shower room, hoping ten minutes would be enough for him when Flight Sergeant Rowling’s sharp voice stopped him near the entrance airlock. ‘Jenkins, Wolverton, Blackwood, to me!’

All three came to the Flight Sergeant standing where the Squadron commander had been a few minutes ago. Her stern expression indicated that nothing good was to be expected. James had guessed as much after Rowling had hissed at them during the formation; he just hoped they would escape before she remembered them. It seemed that luck had turned its back on him this time.

‘I see yesterday’s warning hasn’t worked for you, Mr Wolverton, neither for you, Mr Jenkins…’

No one replied. James decided it would be better to keep quiet. The others seemed to have decided to do the same.

‘Shun!’ Rowling shouted so loudly that her voice seemed to cover all two hundred metres of the Flight Deck. Her scream forced James into a position of attention. Steve and Lewis also froze.

‘…On my command, you’re all to run to me on the bounce, not walk with the relaxed gait of beach harassers,’ she continued a little more calmly, tucking her cane back under her arm and walking along an improvised formation of three lads. ‘But that’s nothing compared to your conversations in the lineup. I can’t remember such a blatant breach of discipline in our squadron history…’

James noticed as Steve opened his mouth, probably intending to say something but immediately shutting it. It was hard to realise if Rowling caught Steve’s intent, but she stopped just before him.

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‘I never expected this from you, Mr Wolverton. And I cannot believe it was allowed in your Training School, Mr Jenkins!’

She stared at James, her eyes wide open, like the eyes of actors in old silent films. He could barely stop himself from smiling. Lewis could not resist, which was not escape Rowling. ‘Have I said something funny, Mr Blackwood?’ she hissed.

‘Sir, may I –’ Steve began but stopped immediately under her stern gaze.

‘You’re not allowed to speak, Astronaut Second Class Wolverton! You should know better than anyone that it’s inappropriate to interrupt your senior in rank. I’ll overlook this infraction, but you will be punished for the rest. Yesterday’s reprimand will go on your record…’ She turned back to James. ‘…I thought to limit myself to a verbal warning to you, Mr. Jenkins. But now I see it’s been in vain. You’ll all have reprimands in your personnel files. I’m giving you all extra duty…’

Steve opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again.

‘…After completing your assignments, you must all report to my office for instructions. Understood?’

No one replied.

‘Understood?’ she shouted.

‘Sir, yes, sir!’ All three replied in chorus, even louder than it should have been in this situation.

‘Well, that’s better,’ Rowling muttered. ‘Dismissed!’

The incident appears to have gone unnoticed. All the other pilots were already headed out of the hangar and down to the lower deck, where James hoped to see his fighter. Unless he would reassign to the auxiliary staff, he thought, heading towards the transition airlock. His mood, spoiled by breakfast, became even worse. His fellows looked similar.

‘Damn it!’ Lewis exclaimed as the three of them walked downstairs.

‘Don’t worry,’ Steve replied, patting his mate on the shoulder.

‘She said about a reprimand –’

Steve shook his head. ‘Bluff. Nobody can put on a fizzer twice for the same thing,’ said he. ‘She can reprimand us or give us extra duty, but not both at once.’

‘Maybe,’ said James.

‘Not maybe, definitely, read the regulations,’ Steve retorted vigorously.

‘I was just thinking…’ Lewis chuckled, ‘who could have harassed her on a beach?’

‘Harassed?’ Steve raised his eyebrows.

‘She said we came up to her like beach harassers.’

‘I can’t imagine who could have thought of harassing that old bat,’ James snorted. ‘Only if he was blind or an idiot…’

‘That’s the way I see it,’ Steve agreed. ‘I think –’

He did not finish; they had already entered the hangar, where James noticed Flight Lieutenant Jennings with an older officer who was likely B Flight’s commander, Squadron Leader Dutton.

The Section commander said nothing, but he met them with a glance that showed Rowling obviously had time to snitch. Today, his eyes seemed normal, but he was visibly nervous. The reason could only be guessed. James thought it was because, apart from the commander, everyone else in their Section was a newcomer. As Steve had told him yesterday, the squadron had been reformed after the previous mission and now consisted of two Flights, with each Section containing four fighters instead of the original three.

These machines, covered in tarpaulin, immediately caught James’s attention and forced him to forget about the incident with Rowling that spoiled his mood. The fighter-interceptors were only vaguely similar to atmospheric machines because they were designed to operate in airless space. The pilot’s cockpit protruded only slightly above the fuselage. There was no glass canopy covering the cockpits of previous atmospheric aircraft. Several video cameras and sensors transmitted the image directly to the virtual screen of the pilot’s helmet, integrated with an on-board intelligent system so that the pilot could visually control the entire space around him as if he were sitting inside a glass ball.

These helmets, previously laid out by the technicians on mobile tables, had to be adjusted individually for each pilot, as well as for the electronic brain of each fighter. All this took several hours, during which James had only one opportunity to look into the cabin of his fighter. At the same time, they had to try on the spacesuits equipped with a jet engine in case they were ejected into space. He had no time to examine the weapons systems in detail. He only noticed that they were slightly different from the systems of the training craft with which he was familiar.

Lunchtime came, and all the technicians dropped their work as if on command. James concluded that lunchtime was a sacred time for that part of the staff. However, he also managed to get hungry and made no objection. But on his way to the mess, he encountered an unexpected obstacle. Flight Sergeant Rowling beckoned him with a gesture that left no doubt. Steve and Lewis stood next to her, looking sad.

‘I thought I had assigned you three to clean the residential compartment,’ she said in an iron tone.

‘Right now?’ James exclaimed automatically. ‘I mean… er… lunchtime…’

‘I mean your off-duty time.’

‘We’d miss lunch, sir,’ said Steve. Rowling gave him the look that the Gorgon Medusa might have given Perseus.

‘That’s not my concern. Your task is to clean the sleeping quarters, corridors 3 and 4 and all the other rooms, including the hygiene rooms.’

‘We’re not going to make it in an hour,’ Lewis muttered. Gorgon’s gaze flashed to him. ‘As far as I know, according to today’s schedule, the time after 15.00 is for self-training and doesn’t apply to your duties. Corporal Tomyn is on duty in the residential compartment. He has everything you need. Get going.’

Turning on her heels, Rowling headed towards the messroom.

‘Fuck!’ Steve slammed his fist against the bulkhead. James looked at him questioningly.

‘…Tomyn,’ Steve continued. ‘This fucking careerist seeks promotion at any cost.’

‘Wanna say, no chance to scrimshank?’ James asked.

‘Gah!’ Steve waved his hand.

‘Yeah, Dabir told me,’ added Lewis, ‘Tomyn is a snitch withal.’

‘Hmm, he looks quite innocent,’ said James, guessing who his mates were talking about. He even had time to exchange a few words with that blonde-haired lad from Flight Control last evening. Today, while they were checking their fighters, he also got to know Rajiv Dabir, a taciturn Junior Technician.

Steve snorted contemptuously. ‘Tomyn only looks innocent. Dad told me once about a guy from their squadron. He looked the same, and they didn’t even know he snitched on everyone. What do you think? That son of a bitch became a Flight Lieutenant in just two years and even got the Space Force Cross. As you know, such decorations were not handed out in droves before the war. Even now, it’s mostly given posthumously.’

‘D’you think, Tomyn got his chevron similarly?’

Steve chuckled. ‘Hmm… I think it was not only like that, but maybe I’m wrong.’

Corporal Tomyn was waiting for them with mops, buckets and a special, not very pleasant-smelling, compound for cleaning. Water was not used in the spacecraft for this purpose for obvious reasons. James already had a very unpleasant feeling in his stomach. At his Flying Training School, cadets were never made to work instead of eating, not even as a punishment.

He swabbed the deck diligently, trying not to notice Tomyn, who was flashing around from time to time. If all the rumours about this type were true, he was clearly looking for something to complain about. At Steve’s suggestion, they decided not to give him a chance and set about their task diligently. Soon, James began to feel tired and pain in his arms and back. An hour and a half later, when Rowling appeared and he, as senior in rank of the three, showed her the results, it turned out that there was more to it than that. The Flight Sergeant found dust on the handrails. An hour later, she said the junior technicians’ sleeping quarters had not been sufficiently cleaned. Lunchtime was over when Rowling said the companionway to the lower deck was also in their working area.

‘Bloody hell!’ Steve exclaimed as Rowling again found fault with their work and walked away, tapping her cane on the railing. ‘T’s just a sophisticated mockery. I’m going to report this to the commander!’

He took a step back and toppled his bucket. Half its contents splashed down the companionway steps, and some stayed on his flight suit. The stream of Steve’s curses was supplemented by the loud indignation of the duty officer from the lower deck, who apparently also got a part of this substance.

‘Bye-bye lunch,’ muttered Steve sadly.

‘Humm…’ Lewis looked at him. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea to go to the messroom like this.’

‘You can come back and change your clothes,’ James suggested. Steve shook his head. ‘It’s the only flight suit I’ve got.’

James examined himself as best he could. He seemed to be all right. ‘Here’s what we do,’ said he, ‘you two go to the shower room and try to wash Steve’s flight suit. I’ll tidy up downstairs and report to Rowling that we’re done because now we’re done.’

‘Maybe that’s not necessary,’ said Lewis. ‘Who might notice?’

Steve sighed sadly. ‘I’m not sure. Look here…’ he pointed to the large stain on his flight suit, ‘…all in this shit, and here too. Anyone can see it.’

‘That’s because our uniforms are coloured like this,’ Lewis said. ‘The Space Agency’s uniform is a pretty emerald green, but ours looks like – I can’t quite put my finger on it…’

‘Well, they’re the Space Agency, but we’re the Space Force,’ Steve said. ‘They’re scientists, we’re soldiers.’

‘Yeah, scientists, especially that one…’ Lewis nodded to a young boy coming down the stairs. He looked about fifteen but was in the Space Agency uniform, even with an insignia patch on his sleeve. James just did not have time to identify what was on the patch. ‘Maybe he’s someone’s son,’ said he when the boy disappeared from their view. ‘It seems that before the war, Space Agency personnel were allowed to invite their family members on board.’

‘Before the war,’ Steve emphasised his first word, ‘and while a spacecraft was in orbit around the Earth. By the way,’ he added, ‘if this kid was just somebody’s relative, he’d be wearing civvies.’

‘Okay, men,’ James cut the discussion, taking matters into his own hands. ‘You two go to the shower room. We have to –’ He did not finish, noticing Rowling, who had appeared at this most inopportune moment. ‘We’ve done,’ said he, making the others sign to keep silent. ‘As for this… er… I’m going to clean it all up.’

‘Do you think so?’ Rowling examined all the companionway steps, and then ran her hand along the railing. ‘Well, it looks like all right. However, I have to give you a reprimand, Mr Wolverton, because of the state of your uniform.’

‘We were not provided with work clothes,’ Steve muttered.

‘May I ask who had to provide you?’ Rowling cut him off in an icy tone of voice. ‘You had to get the work clothes yourself before you started work.’

‘Nobody told us –’ Steve began, Rowling throwing up her hands. ‘Are you all in kindergarten? You all got the pilot’s certificates! You all have been promoted to military ranks…’

For a moment, the stern Flight Sergeant had turned into a grumpy fishwife, but she caught herself.

‘…Alright, hand your inventory back, clean up and go to dinner, but not you, Jenkins, until you have liquidated these consequences.’ She pointed down with her cane, then turned around and walked away.

Steve and Lewis followed her, picking up their buckets and mops. James went down to the lower deck. A rather large puddle had already formed there, so he had to spend a long time collecting the washing liquid with a soaked cleaning rag. Now, it seemed, not only his arms and back but his whole body was sore and aching from exhaustion.

‘Astronaut First Class Jenkins, right?’ An unknown but imperious voice caught him as he bent over a damned puddle that refused to diminish. He looked up. An officer in a uniform with the Squadron Leader’s rank insignia stood above him. He was one of the two who had accompanied the Squadron сommander this morning. James had thought this might be Deputy Squadron Commander King and straightened himself mechanically.

‘Yes, sir!’

‘Relax. And keep away from me with your rag,’ the officer said, motioning for James to move away, then continued, checking the records on his tablet. ‘You haven’t undergone a medical examination. I can’t allow you to go flying.’

‘A medical examination?’

‘Exactly, Astronaut First Class, if you know that term.’

‘Yes, sir… er… yes indeed, sir…’ James became confused. ‘I’m just… I thought it was not necessary. The Flying School surgeon sent my medical file… I mean, he had to send… er…’

The officer looked at him sternly and said in the same tone, ‘All personnel must undergo a medical examination upon arrival at a new duty station, especially if this is a spacecraft. You haven’t had one, and I’d like to know why.’

‘Nobody told me about that, sir,’ James replied, thinking it was too much for today.

The Squadron Leader shook his head in doubt.

‘It’s possible but unlikely,’ said he. ‘You have…’ he looked at his watch, ‘forty minutes to correct the situation. Otherwise, I shall have to transfer you to the auxiliary staff. I don’t want to do that, but I can’t break the regulations.’

Hastily finishing the cleaning and reporting back to Rowling, James went to look for the Sickbay. It took him nearly half an hour. Finally, he found himself outside the entrance airlock to the Sickbay. But he hesitated on the threshold when he noticed a woman of about forty inside. She was dressed in the Space Agency uniform with golden oak leaves on her collar. The woman saw him too and smiled very friendly.

‘I’m… um… from the Space Force,’ he mumbled, ‘reported… um… for a medical examination.’

‘Well, come in,’ said the woman, keeping her smile up. ‘Just my reception hours –’

‘It’s not my whim; I’ve an order,’ he said rudely. She nodded.

‘I see. James Jenkins, I presume?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I prefer to be addressed by my name or simply Doctor,’ said she, smiling again. ‘Well, come in…’

He crossed the threshold.

‘…Lie down here…’ She pointed to the couch next to the back bulkhead without taking her eyes off her computer display, and then switched on the device mounted above the couch. James thought it was a portable CT scanner. ‘Have you got any problems?’

‘Only with my fate,’ James replied with a deep breath.

‘Well, such a thing is out of my control,’ said she.

‘Is there something under your control?’ said he in a slightly irritated tone. She smiled.

‘Your mood is out of that list too.’

‘What do you care about my mood?’

‘Well, how to say…’ she raised her eyebrows. ‘We haven’t met yet, so we have no reason to become enemies. And I’m not such a Furia, you’ve already drawn in your imagination.’

‘Oh yes,’ he went on, ‘and you have a son of my age, you miss him a lot, and other stuff…’

‘Why do you think so?’

‘Adults always say sorta when trying to ingratiate themselves with us.’

The Doctor looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

‘You think I’m trying to ingratiate myself with you?’ said she. ‘By the way, you’re not a kid already, right?’

Suddenly, she winked at him and raised her hand to the control panel, probably to change the settings. He noticed a name patch on her uniform. Contrary to the uniform regulations, her full name was on the patch: Jessica Kirkpatrick.

‘…However,’ she went on, ‘you’re right. I have a son, but he is a bit younger than you. He’s only twelve. And I really miss him as much as your mum misses you… Well…’ she switched off her device, ‘…that’s all.’

‘And?’ James did not understand. She shrugged.

‘I’ll put the data in your medical file and send it to whom it may concern, with a note that you’re allowed to pilot your fighter or whatever.’

‘So am I all right?’

‘Fit as a fiddle,’ she winked at him again. ‘You can go.’

James got up from the couch. ‘Thank you… Doctor Jessica,’ said he, adding the last words unexpectedly, even for himself. The Doctor smiled kindly.

‘You’re welcome.’

He headed for the entrance airlock, almost colliding with a young girl who suddenly appeared in his path. She was wearing a Space Agency uniform, but James failed to notice any rank insignia because he stepped on his own foot, staggered and banged his shoulder hard against the bulkhead.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, rubbing the bruised shoulder. The girl looked at him as if surprised, then suddenly smiled but said nothing and came inside the Sickbay. Suddenly confused, James stumbled over the threshold, almost sprawling on deck.

He scarcely had time to eat dinner, forcing himself to swallow absolutely tasteless artificial cutlets, back to his sleeping quarters, and climb onto his bunk. His mood was totally out of sorts. Hateful Flight Sergeant Rowling kept appearing before his eyes, and various plans for revenge sprang to mind.