‘Activate programme…’ Flight Lieutenant Jennings’s voice sounded impassive, unlike his usual, even slightly tired. James reacted immediately, tapping a series of numbers and letters on the control panel and pressing the ‘Enter’ key. He could finally relax for a few minutes. The on-board artificial intelligence system would do all the work by itself, picking up the signal from the tactical navigation system, synchronising the speed of the fighter and the ship, maintaining the required pitch parameters and leading the fighter directly to the landing rail. He noticed on his virtual screen that the B-5, flying almost parallel, was changing course. It looked as if the Section commander was approaching to land in the same regime.

It was more than justified. Today’s training flight was very hard. James had never felt so tired, not even on the day of Lewis’s fighter accident. Long hours of manual control, the complex manoeuvres and the three simulated attacks in three completely different regimes had taken their toll. Then, just as all the fighters were moving into battle formation, the Flight commander ordered a change in one of the attack schemes out of the blue. He thought Jennings’s decision to hand over control of the landing to the artificial intelligence was not unreasonable. Even if the Flight Lieutenant was more worried about himself than his wingman.

The hangar gateway was already open. This giant slab, as wide as the hangar and about a metre thick, had risen up like the jaws of a monster about to devour James’s fighter. Seen from Triton’s surface, however, the slab should have appeared to be sinking. The satellite was now passing directly over James’s head. But no one could see his fighter from the surface of this icy Neptunian moon, where it was so cold that nitrogen froze and fell like snow.

A light, barely perceptible push signalled the end of the landing process. The fighter slid along the landing rail, gradually slowing to a stop. James felt himself pushed into the pilot’s seat. The transition from weightlessness to standard gravity, generated by the spacecraft’s artificial gravity system, had been expected, as always, but unexpected, as always. Now, he had to shut down all the fighter’s systems – a well-rehearsed procedure, but not so easy when the weight of the spacesuit was added to James’s own. A red light on the end bulkhead indicated that the hangar was still depressurised. The airlock connecting the hangar to the rest of the spacecraft was still covered by a massive shield. James had to wait for the last pair of A-Flight fighters to land, and the green light on the end bulkhead indicated that the hangar was completely sealed. Then, he could complete the last item on the checklist - switching off the oxygen supply to the spacesuit.

Finally, the green light came on, and the massive slab covering the hangar’s inner transition airlock crept upwards. James turned off the life support, disconnected the hose, and took off his helmet, feeling the coolness on his face. It looked like he sweated profusely. It had always been difficult for him to get up from his chair in the spacesuit and walk out of the cabin onto the ladder the technicians had already installed, and today, it was even more difficult. He had to grab the railing to get down, and at the worst possible moment, he was rocked sideways. He almost dropped his helmet.

‘Be careful,’ said a voice that seemed to be not only familiar to James but very familiar indeed. He turned towards the voice and froze in astonishment. Steve was standing downstairs. James almost fell again.

‘What’re you doing here?’ he burst out, not expecting to see his recent wingman in this place and wearing a grey-coloured technician’s overall.

‘What d’you think?’ Steve replied. ‘I’m in auxiliary now. Or has it slipped your mind?’

‘I hadn’t even heard of it.’

‘Really?’ Steve’s gaze seemed to James a little disbelieving.

‘Yeah.’

‘Well…’ Steve waved his hand, ‘probably, you’ll hear about it soon. I’ve got no time, and Dutton’s surely waiting for you.’

James guessed that Steve had no intention of saying more at the moment. He moved towards the airlock, at a loss. Nothing of the sort had been expected this morning. James was supposed to be Jennings’s wingman on a training flight today. He went to the pre-flight briefing immediately after formation and never returned to the living compartment. What had happened to Steve seemed to be highly illogical. A pilot could only be reassigned to auxiliary staff as a punishment, but James saw no reason for that.

He had watched Steve and Jennings’s training flight from the control room the day before and had seen nothing that could have caused it. Moreover, he had witnessed Steve being personally praised by the Squadron Commander just a few days before. They both had not had any run-ins with Rowling for a long time. The Flight Sergeant still treated them with marked distrust, periodically finding fault with them for small things, but nothing more. Steve, unlike James himself, had no dealings with any of the spacecraft’s crew, apart from a failed attempt to flirt with the girl who had so contemptuously blown him off.

‘Well done, wingman…’ Flight Lieutenant Jennings, already without his spacesuit, caught up with him in the corridor behind the airlock. ‘It was almost perfect today. You can if you want.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ James replied mechanically, about to say something completely different.

‘It’s not praise, Mr Jenkins. I always try to be objective about the work of my subordinates.’

James was a little taken aback. He had long since given up relying on Jennings’s objectivity but he thought it made sense to take advantage of the Flight Lieutenant’s complacent mood.

‘Sir, may I ask a question?’

Jennings looked at him, slightly puzzled, and nodded.

‘You may. What question?’

‘Steve... I mean, Astronaut Second Class Wolverton –’ he stopped, not finding the right words to go on.

‘And?’

‘I mean… uh… why he… what he’s doing –’

‘Understood.’ Jennings’s almost friendly expression changed abruptly. A shadow seemed to pass over his face. ‘Astronaut Second Class Wolverton has been transferred to the auxiliary,’ he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

‘Sir?’

‘I cannot tell you anymore.’ Jennings’s tone changed to annoyance.

‘But –’

‘That’s all, Mr Jenkins,’ the Flight Lieutenant snapped. ‘I think it’s time to attend to your post-flight documentation.’

He turned abruptly and walked down the corridor without another word.

Returning to their sleeping quarters, James immediately noticed a change. Steve’s bunk was empty. His sleeping bag and other personal belongings, which usually lay on a mesh shelf above the bunk, were gone. James dared not look into Steve’s locker, the door of which was slightly ajar. Wil and Ethan were seated at the table, hunched over their tablets, working on the post-flight reports James was supposed to do as soon as possible. However, he stood in the middle of the sleeping quarters, not moving. Steve had not only been dismissed from the flying crew for some unknown reason, he had also been relocated to no one knew where, and very quickly.

The squadron orders appeared on screen when James activated his tablet, dated that day, clarified nothing. Astronaut First Class J.A. Jenkins was on the mailing list, but most of the text was hidden. A note next to James’s name on the mailing list explained why. This meant that the addressee could only read paragraphs that directly concerned him. He guessed. The only paragraph that directly concerned him was about the reorganisation of B-Flight. Section 2 now consisted of three fighters. That probably explained the irritation that had involuntarily crept into Jennings’s voice as he informed James of Steve’s transfer to the auxiliary staff. The reason for the transfer was obviously not something James needed to know. He had heard it was common practice in the military, but this was the first time he had encountered it. ‘Games over,’ Jennings’s words appeared in his mind.

The sleeping quarters gradually filled up with inhabitants. Mike and Kevin came up behind James; Lewis appeared a few minutes later. None of them seemed to be paying attention to Steve’s empty bunk. James thought they might all know more, but he never asked. He decided to find out for himself when he had completed his report. Only after he had sent this not-very-coherent text to Jennings (he still had to contact Dabir to get the fighter’s post-flight inspection data) did he have the opportunity to go in search of Steve.

The junior technicians’ sleeping quarters were located in the same compartment as the pilots’ sleeping quarters, a little further down the corridor towards the stern of the spacecraft. James was already on his way but suddenly thought it would be pointless to look for Steve in the technicians’ quarters at this time. Steve could likely be somewhere on the Flight Deck or lower down in the repair hangars. His hunch proved correct, and he found his friend in a tiny room filled with detergents and cleaning equipment.

‘Are you alright?’ James said, only then realising that his question sounded stupid.

‘As you can see,’ Steve grumbled back without turning around. He was rearranging some boxes on shelves along the bulkhead.

‘Well, maybe now you have time to tell me what happened?’

Just then, Steve turned to him with a questioning look.

‘…I mean, what are you doing here, and what a –’ James went on but not finished. Steve shook his head.

‘I cannot,’ he said very quietly, almost whispering.

‘What does that mean – you can’t?’ James was confused. Steve took a deep breath and patted him on the shoulder.

‘You’re a good friend, Jim,’ he said, ‘and thanks for caring. What happened – happened.’

James was speechless for a few seconds, overwhelmed by the change in Steve. There was no trace of the rollicking lad he had known. To say that Steve was saddened by what had happened was to say nothing. He seemed completely crushed.

‘I just… I just wanted to ask…’ It was hard to formulate the question. ‘…Well, can you tell me anything?’ James finally said.

‘Sorry, old man…’ Steve took another deep breath. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Agreement.’

‘What fucking agreement?’ cried James. Steve winced.

‘A non-disclosure agreement,’ he said quietly.

‘Non-disclosure?’

Steve grinned, but James thought his grin was bitter. ‘I think you know,’ he said, ‘I can’t even talk about it. And I don’t want to drag you into it. It’s enough that someone fitted me up.’

‘Someone fitted you up?’

‘Sorry, Jim…’ Steve began, rubbing the bridge of his nose but not finishing.

‘Hang in there, old chap,’ James patted him on the shoulder. ‘Rest assured, I won’t let it go –’

Steve cut him off, shaking his head emphatically, ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘You don’t know yet –’

‘I’m guessing,’ Steve smiled sadly. ‘So I’m telling you again: don’t think about it. Ya run the risk of getting into this shit yarself –’ He paused. ‘Eh, I wish I knew who put me in this…’

‘I’m going to find that bastard, whoever he is, and kick his arse,’ said James. Steve shook his head again.

‘You can kick his arse, of course, if you find him, but after that, you can find yourself here… I mean this…’ he gestured around the room, ‘if not behind bars. And I’m serious. So, Jim, don’t interfere, please. Junkie’s in a jam himself. He can take it out on you –’

‘I don’t give a damn about Junky!’ cried James. ‘Or was it his tricks?’

Steve shook his head negatively.

‘I guess not, but… I can’t tell you anything. Hopefully, you have it in your head already,’ he said with a bitter smile. ‘You’re such a smart boy, and you’ve already guessed. I’m just asking you not to interfere. It would be better for both of us.’

‘I just wanna help you –’ James began; Steve stopped him with a gesture.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

‘You cannot,’ said he. ‘I always suspected it, but now I’m sure. Our desires never match our abilities. That is as clear as day.’

James looked at his friend in surprise.

‘As clear as mud. And looks like… a philosophy, but I’m not so good with that.’ Steve shook his head.

‘You’re pretty good with that, don’t be shy,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘By the way, that’s not a philosophy but a fact. If you don’t have problems, nobody around you has problems. But if a problem falls on you, it turns out that everyone around you has an awful lot of problems, and none of them are in a position to help you. Come back. If Rowling catches you here –’

Without finishing the sentence, he waved his hand and turned his back on James again …

… Flight Sergeant Rowling appeared in the sleeping compartment almost as soon as James had returned and informed him that Squadron Leader Dutton was waiting for him urgently. Wondering why the Squadron Leader had not used the intercom, James only suspected what was wrong when he entered the commander’s office, which was joined to his sleeping cabin. Flight Lieutenant Jennings, Sergeant Hancock, Kevin and Lewis and Flight Lieutenant Randolph, the commander’s wingman, were already there. It seemed James had missed the call, and Dutton had to send Rowling for him on purpose. This was not good at all.

However, the Flight commander said nothing. He asked James to close the door and took his place at the table. ‘Take a seat, Mr Jenkins,’ he said dryly. ‘We’re going to have a long talk. First, about discipline…’

James found a jump seat attached to the bulkhead separating the office from the commander’s sleeping area. All the other seats were occupied.

‘…I don’t want to remind you all of this,’ the Squadron Leader continued, ‘but I have to. I don’t know if this is a result of the unavoidable, and for some already close, communication with the spacecraft’s crew or if we’ve all just relaxed. Nevertheless, no one cancelled the discipline. You all have to know the regulations anyway, and I hope you do. You all know the requirements for Space Force personnel. These requirements are not dictated by anyone’s whim. These requirements are dictated by the peculiarities of our duty, which you have all voluntarily chosen…’

Dutton emphasised the last words, as it seemed to James, looking straight at him. He straightened automatically, though he needed not.

‘…Any failure to comply with these requirements, which have the force of law even in peacetime and even more so in wartime,’ the Squadron Leader went on, ‘can have certain consequences you must all be aware of. Otherwise, you risk having to face them. We have already lost one of our fighters, which reduce our combat capability. The mission ahead of us imposes an additional responsibility on each of us. We must not allow the enemy to interfere with the construction of the detector array. It’s not just a matter of colossal resources, though I suspect this array may cost too much more than our spacecraft. This array should form the basis of the long-range warning system we desperately need. Until now, our knowledge of the enemy has been fragmented. We cannot track their actions and prevent attacks on our facilities in time. The enemy’s forces outnumber ours many times over. This is no longer an assumption it's a fact. You all know it; I’m just reminding you. Therefore, however presumptuous it may sound, if not the outcome of the entire war, at least the current phase is now up to us, until the construction of a new generation of spacecraft, designed based on available experience, is completed…’

James could not help but notice that Hancock was looking at Randolph, then at Kevin, shrugging his shoulders, and Lewis’s eyebrows twitching slightly. This long lecture caused confusion. Even though the Squadron Leader spoke softly, without any notes of irony in his voice that happened when he was unhappy with something or someone. Or perhaps he used such a style just for that reason? What had prompted him to give this lecture remained a complete mystery.

‘…I dare to hope,’ Dutton continued meanwhile, seemingly oblivious to the bewildered looks of his subordinates, ‘that you all understand the responsibility that rests upon us and will act accordingly. Soon, the Endurance will leave Neptune and set a course for its destination. Our next mission could be a real combat mission; think about it. Mr Jennings, please stay a while; we have something to discuss. All others – dismissed.’

The end was as unexpected as the beginning. James looked at Hancock, who just shrugged.

‘Jenkins, Blackwood…’ Flight Lieutenant Jennings’s voice stopped him at the door, ‘…have you two understood all this?’

‘Yes sir,’ James replied mechanically. Lewis said nothing.

‘Great! I hope,’ Jennings continued in an undertone, nodding towards the Flight commander, ‘I won’t have to listen to anything like this again.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’ Lewis asked James as they both stepped into the corridor.

‘I don’t know,’ James replied mechanically again. He no longer doubted that Dutton’s lecture was somehow connected to Steve’s transfer to the auxiliary, just as the transfer was somehow connected to a breach of discipline. The question of how these two things were connected was still open. Lewis’s comment might imply that he knew more about Steve’s transfer from flight staff. On the other hand, since he had said nothing to James, there was no point in drawing him out. James sensed something unsettling in Dutton’s words, though he could not be sure it was not his imagination.

The next ‘night’, as the rest period for most Space Force personnel and off-duty spacecraft crew members was usually called, approached imperceptibly. James, however, could not fall asleep. He tossed and turned in his bunk for almost an hour. A couple of times, he was ready to wake Lewis and ask him directly what had happened to Steve, but after some thought, he changed his mind. He spent some time mentally reviewing the last events in search of at least one clue, but in vain. Finally, he could take no more. He unzipped his sleeping bag, slid down, pulled on his flight suit, and stepped out of the sleeping quarters.

The corridors were dimmed during the ‘night’s rest’, but the sparse ceiling lights made it possible to move about without risking tripping over a bulkhead or threshold. Closer to the airlock to the utility compartment, the lamp over the desk of the compartment duty officer was also on. It was the most unpleasant and pointless duty James had had to perform since coming on board. The night duty officer had absolutely nothing to do. You could sit at the counter, above which the clock on the intercom monitor was counting; you could read; you could look at the floor, at the ceiling; a couple of times during the ‘night’, to walk along the corridors, past the sleeping quarters of the junior staff and the officers’ cabins. The instructions called for such a tour every hour, but almost no one followed this paragraph. However, James had already forgotten when the last time had been that he had sat at this very table. After training flights began, pilots were no longer assigned to night duty.

‘Can’t sleep?’ The voice seemed very familiar to James, though it was quiet. A duty officer rose from his seat, and James recognised Corporal Tomyn. ‘Wanna ask something?’ he began again. James suddenly thought that if Tomyn had somehow managed to find out what Jennings had been talking about with his subordinates in his quarters behind closed doors, he might know the reason for Steve’s transfer to the auxiliary.

‘Yes,’ said he. Tomyn nodded.

‘Go ahead.’

It seemed that the Corporal’s mood was now quite suitable.

‘D’you know why Steve was dismissed from the flight staff?’ James decided to ask directly. Tomyn nodded again in confirmation.

‘Can you tell me?’

The Corporal made an indefinite gesture with his hands. What he was trying to say, James did not understand.

‘Look, can you tell me or not?’

The Corporal shrugged and made a similar gesture. ‘Actually, it’s a delicate matter…’ he began and paused, raising his eyebrows slightly and tilting his head slightly to one side. ‘…And honestly, I mustn’t share this information…’ He paused again. ‘…However, I’ve seen no reason not to share it with you. The Disciplinary Commission –’

‘What damn commission?’ James interrupted him sharply. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘You want a name list?’

James shook his head negatively. ‘No. I just don’t get it, what does some fucking commission have to do with it?’

Tomyn as if ignoring James’s irritation. ‘Very simple…’ he smiled mockingly. ‘In the case of a breach of discipline, there is a commission to decide what punishment should be meted out. In this case, the commission has decided to transfer Astronaut Second Class Wolverton from the flight staff to the auxiliary. Am I making myself clear?’

‘Not at all. Can you be more specific?’

Tomyn smiled mockingly again.

‘This is an even more delicate matter,’ said he, tilting his head slightly to the side, ‘but I see no reason not to tell you about this as well: violation of the secrecy regime.’

‘What?’ cried James in bewilderment.

‘Unauthorised disclosure of classified information, if you wanna call a spade a spade.’ Tomyn said these words in a completely neutral way as if he were giving a weather forecast or something like that.

‘What a fucking disclosure?’ James felt almost the same as he did today when he saw Steve, –

‘or yesterday,’ flashed through his mind – on the Flight deck, wearing the overalls of the technical staff. The Corporal’s face showed surprise.

‘I guess, you know.’ He emphasised the word ‘you’.

‘How can I know?’ cried James. The Corporal made a vague gesture with his hands.

‘Very simply…’

Suddenly it dawned on James. A recent conversation, just a few days ago, in their sleeping quarters before lights out, and his conversation with Tomyn the next day, surfaced in his mind. Steve said something that night that James told the Corporal the next day…

‘…Your closest friend,’ Tomyn continued, ‘got carried away and said something he shouldn’t have said anyway.’

James tried desperately to remember, but could not. Only fragments swirled in his mind, but he saw nothing resembling the disclosure of classified information. What is this scoundrel talking about? What does he mean? Thoughts ran fast and confused.

‘Don’t break your head in vain…’ Tomyn’s voice, whose face he saw as if through a mist, reached him. ‘Poor lad mentioned the detector array. Back then, this information was still…’

‘Yes, indeed!’ lightning flashed through James’s head. He finally recalled that evening, not in all the details, but enough to put it all together. The conversation turned to the training flight scheduled for the next day. As the previous flight plan had been changed, Steve put forward an assumption…

‘Wolverton hasn’t divulged any classified information,’ he said, looking the Corporal straight in the eye. ‘Honestly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Well, years ago, on Earth, yes, but now… Do you think these aliens installed the listening devices somewhere? The spacecraft’s entire crew has long known about the detector array.

‘Maybe…’ Tomyn smiled ironically, ‘but that affects neither him nor you. You’re in the army now. Classified information – is classified information that’s not worth sharing even with a bedfellow. You both – you and Wolverton himself – knew that very well. By the way, I suspect, you learned about the detector array much before all of us. However, you considered it good to keep your mouth shut. Wolverton could have done the same, but, what a pity….’ the Corporal’s face became tearful, ‘…didn’t have enough brains. Don’t worry, Jimmy boy…’ His face became mocking. ‘You’re as pure as a baby before your over-sensitive conscience. You didn’t tell me any name, though it wasn’t hard to guess. Whatever it was, the fact that Wolverton turned out to be a booby didn’t come from you, so, formally, you had nothing to do with his transfer to the auxiliary.’

‘Nonsense, Tomyn!’ cried James. The Corporal’s face showed misunderstanding.

‘…I mean… I wanna say…’ James once again struggled to find the right words. ‘A new mission task was announced the very next day in the Squadron order in which all subsequent training flights took place –’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Tomyn interrupted James with a gesture. ‘When Wing Commander Burton saw fit, he informed you what the Joint Command planned. Until that moment, that information was considered classified.’

‘Look…’ James decided to try another way, ‘Steve, as well as all of us, hadn’t signed off that this information is classified, top-top secret, and must be eaten after reading. He knew nothing about it, you see? So if he knew nothing, should he be responsible? Well, maybe it was possible somewhere in… Russia or… I don’t know, China more years ago, but not here and not now –’

Tomyn stopped him by gesturing again. ‘I’ve told you once upon a time, Jimmy boy,’ he began in an insinuating voice, ‘you’re in the army, the war is going on. Whatever you wanna tell me about democracy, human rights and so on has lost its meaning for now.’

James thought there was no point in continuing. Up to now, Tomin had easily defeated all his arguments. The last option remained. He thought of trying to beat the bastard with his own weapon.

‘You must get Steve back on the pilots’ staff immediately,’ he said, as he hoped, in a hard tone. ‘Otherwise –’

‘I must do nothing,’ Tomyn replied with an idiotic grin, ‘nothing for anyone, especially you. Yes indeed, if you wanna know more about a court martial. Even for you, it’s not that complicated to guess that if I tell them what happened… hmm, you know – when and with whom – nothing can prevent the command from reopening the investigation. Do you need it, eh?’

It was pointless to continue. James knew immediately what this scoundrel meant.

‘Aren’t you afraid of getting into some sorta jam yourself?’ he said quietly.

‘Don’t threaten me!’ Tomyn’s expression changed for a second as if he really sensed a threat in James’s words.

‘I’m not threatening you, I’m just reminding you,’ said James, trying his best to control his emotions. ‘If the investigation would be reopened, I could also say something, for example about your manipulation of the telemetry and the flight recorder. So we’re going to get court-martialled together.’

It seemed as if the shock had passed, and the Corporal managed to pull himself together, for a mocking smirk appeared on his face again. He shook his head.

‘I’m not.’

‘You think that man… what’s his name… Moncroft, it seems, can get you off?’

‘Doesn’t matter what I think. The matter is what I know.’

‘And what do you know?’

‘I told you, Jimmy boy,’ Tomyn grinned, showing all his teeth, ‘remember once and for all, and don’t make me repeat it again: witness testimony, even under oath, is always subjective; telemetry and flight recorder data are objective. I had no reason, from the command’s point of view, of course, to change anything in that data. So they’d consider all your accusations to be absolutely baseless. And they most likely won’t even listen to you.’

‘So, you won’t be able to accuse me too,’ James tried to counter. ‘Otherwise, you’d have to admit that you were a bit of a brownie with the flight data recorders, wouldn’t you?’

Tomyn shook his head negatively.

‘Nope. I’ll just delete everything I added from the telemetry and replace the deleted file from the flight recorder’s memory with the original one with all the warning signals. And then I’ll give Moncroft a hint, just a hint, that it wouldn’t do any harm to double-check your fighter’s flight data. Surely, Sawyer and Andrews will have to admit that they missed something in their investigation, but that will not change anything for you. Or quite the opposite, it will change everything drastically. Wolverton will one day return from the auxiliary to the pilot staff; you can be sure of that. No one has revoked his pilot’s certificate. But you will be kicked out forever. After all, your other hanky-panky may come to light.’

‘What are you talking about?’ James asked in confusion. ‘A reprimand –’

‘Reprimand means nothing,’ said Tomyn with a grin. ‘Who has no reprimand? Parental permission, required for anyone under eighteen enrolling in a Flying School, is another matter.’

‘What’s wrong with my permission?’ cried James, completely baffled. Tomyn painted a stupid smile on his face again.

‘It’s a fake, isn’t it?’

James was horrified at how tightly the bastard had entangled him in his net, but all he could say aloud was, ‘It still needs to be proven.’

‘Easy,’ Tomyn laughed. ‘It’s just enough to look at the signature. An adult’s signature is clear and usually well-developed; adults sign very frequently. But the signature on the permission you submitted… well, let me say, it was slightly different from an adult’s and very similar to yours. And you used a slang word that neither of your parents would have thought of using. Adults don’t usually say that, let alone write it. I don’t care, of course, but dura lex sed lex, if you know this expression…’ Tomyn showed his teeth again. ‘It’s called a forgery, Jimmy boy,’ he went on insinuatingly, ‘which, if known, could cost you your pilot’s certificate.’

‘Bullshit!’ James exclaimed. ‘Okay, I was seventeen when I enrolled at Flying School, it’s true. But I’m over eighteen now anyway. Whatever it was, I’ve got my pilot’s certificate on perfectly legal grounds, having passed all the exams.’

Tomyn laughed again, ‘That’s not the point, my dear Jimmy boy. You’ve swindled by submitting a fake document, which gives the Qualifications Commission ground to suspend your certificate. Not permanently, indeed, just until it’s cleared up. But that process can take a long time, probably until we’re back on Earth, but when we’re back…’ the Corporal made an ironic face and spread his hands, ‘nobody knows. So you’d be suspended at least until we get back, and then you’d be drummed out of the Space Force, at best, at worst, you’d be court-martialled. Nice perspective, eh?’

Panic gripped James again, as it had the day Tomyn had blackmailed him, threatening to charge him with sabotage. As if he was in some kind of dead end with no way out.