‘Aye aye, Captain Bligh.’
First check showed nothing wrong with their orbit: Hazel followed him to bed — ‘bed’ in a figurative sense, for Hazel never strapped herself to her bunk in free fall, preferring to float loosely wherever air currents wafted her. She shared a stateroom with Meade. The three boys were assigned to the bunkroom and the twins attempted to turn in — but Lowell was not sleepy. He felt fine and was investigating the wonderful possibilities of free fall. He wanted to play tag. The twins did not want to play tag; Lowell played tag anyhow.
Pollux snagged him by an ankle. ‘Listen, you! Weren’t you enough trouble by being sick?’
‘I was not sick!’
‘So? Who was it we had to clean up after? Santa Claus?’
‘There ain’t any Santa Claus. I was not sick. You’re a fibber, you’re a fibber, you’re a fibber!’
‘Don’t argue with him,’ Castor advised. ‘Just choke him and stuff him out the lock. We can explain and correct the ship’s mass factor tomorrow.’
‘I was not sick!’
Pollux said, ‘Meade had quite a bit of sack time on the leg down. Maybe you can talk her into taking him off our hands?’
‘I’ll try’.’
Meade was awake; she considered it. ‘Cash?’
‘Sis, don’t be that way!’
‘Well … three days’ dishwashing?’
‘Skinflint! It’s a deal; come take charge of the body.’ Meade had to use the bunkroom as a nursery; the boys went forward and slept in the control room, each strapping himself loosely to a control couch as required by ship’s regulations to avoid the chance of jostling instruments during sleep.
VIII — THE MIGHTY BOOM
Captain Stone had all hands with the exception of Dr Stone and Lowell compute their new orbit. They all worked from the same data, using readings supplied by Traffic Control and checked against their own instruments. Roger Stone waited until all had finished before comparing results.
‘What do you get, Hazel?’
‘As I figure, Captain, you won’t miss Mars by more than a million miles or so.’
‘I figure it right on.’
‘Well, now that you mention it, so do I.’
‘Cas? Pol? Meade?’
The twins were right together to six decimal places and checked with their father and grandmother to five, but Meade’s answer bore no resemblance to any of the others. Her father looked it over curiously. ‘Baby girl, I can’t figure out how you got this out of the computer. As near as I can tell you have us headed for Proxima Centauri.’
Meade looked at it with interest. ‘Is that so? Tell you what let’s use mine and see what happens. It ought to be interesting.’
‘But not practical. You have us going faster than light.’
‘I thought the figures were a bit large.’
Hazel stuck out a bony forefinger. ‘That ought to be a minus sign, hon.’
‘That’s not all that’s wrong,’ announced Pollux. ‘Look at this — ‘ He held out Meade’s programming sheet.
‘That will do, Pol,’ his father interrupted. ‘You are not called on to criticize Meade’s astrogation.’
‘But —’
‘Stow it.’
‘I don’t mind, Daddy,’ Meade put in. ‘I knew I was wrong.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s the first one I’ve ever worked outside of school. Somehow it makes a difference when it’s real.’
‘It certainly does as every astrogator learns. Never mind, Hazel has the median figures. We’ll log hers.’
Hazel shook hands with herself. ‘The winnah and still champeen!’
Castor said, ‘Dad, that’s final? No more maneuvers until you calculate your approach to Mars?’
‘Of course not. No changes for six months at least. Why?’
‘Then Pol and I respectfully request the Captain’s permission to decompress the hold and go outside. We want to get to work on our bikes.’
‘Never mind the fake military-vessel phraseology. But I have news for you.’ He took a sheet of paper out of his belt pouch. ‘Just a moment while I make a couple of changes.’ He wrote on it, then fastened it to the control room bulletin board. It read:
SHIP’S ROUTINE
0700 Reveille (optional for Edith, Hazel, & Buster)
0745 Breakfast (Meade cooks. Twins wash dishes)
0900 School C & P, math
Meade, astrogation, coached by Hazel