Article 23 by William R. Forstchen Read Free Book Online Page A

Justin, for usually Matt was a non-stop talker, ready to fill any conversational gap with a funny story or tall tale about solar sailing.
    "Gentlemen, ten minutes to chow," Uncle finally interrupted.
    Grateful for the opportunity to break off the silent confrontation, Justin looked over at the holo screen and nodded an acknowledgment. During the summer session he had come to regard Uncle as a friend, and once more he wondered about the machine. Uncle had heard every word of the conversation the machine heard and knew everything that happened aboard ship. Yet he was programmed with a very selective memory as prescribed by law. No conversation or action observed by him could ever be repeated except in the case of a class-one felony, and even then the programming block could only be lifted by the unanimous decision of a three-judge panel.
    Justin wondered again if Uncle had personal likes and dislikes. He felt as if the machine actually did like him and looked out for him whenever possible. He knew that was illogical, for Uncle, after all, was a machine, yet the way he had so casually interrupted them, thus breaking off the confrontation, was interesting.
    "Company A , fall out for chow!" Seay's voiee echoed down the hall. Justin double-checked his bed and locker to make sure they were ready for room inspection after dinner.
    "One final thing," Colson suddenly announced.
    Justin looked over at Colson, who had finished stowing his gear in his locker. Colson stepped around Justin and stopped in front of Matt.
    "I don't want to hear you spreading stories about my family. I'll try to ignore your less-than-desirable political beliefs and," he hesitated for a moment then smiled, "the support of them that I just heard you announce out in the hallway. But I'll remember what you said, and if you cross me on anything I'll turn you in."
    "What kind of threat is that?" Justin snapped.
    "A promise. There are other cadets who still have the guts to stand up to traitors, and when the time comes we'll be ready."
    Without another word he stalked out of the room.
    Justin looked over at Matt, expecting an explosion. But the old Matt was back. Shaking his head, Matt broke into a grin.
    "A jerk, buddy, a class-A jerk, and that's no mistake!"
    "A dangerous jerk," Pradeep added quietly.

Chapter III
    "Come on now, son, you can do better than that!"
    Rubbing his backside, Matt struggled back up to his feet, breathing hard under the stress of nearly one-and-a-half gees. Chief Petty Officer Kevin Malady, their close-in combat instructor, stood balanced on the balls of his feet looking as if he were poised to jump straight up and turn a quick somersault. Malady took the knife he had snatched from Matt's hand and tossed it to the side of the practice circle, motioning for Matt to rejoin the group. .
    Malady scanned the group and nodded towards Justin.
    "All right, son, you're next."
    Justin tried to ignore the snickers of some of his fellow cadets as he stepped up to the edge of the fighting circle.
    "So, son, what weapon will it be?"
    Justin looked down at the assortment of deadly instruments laid out on the floor. There were several wicked looking knives, a plain old baseball bat with the charming touch of a few spikes driven through it, a fire ax, and a strange-looking device made up of a section of steel pipe topped by a two-foot section of wire with a lead ball tied to the end.
    "Care to try the mace, Mr. Bell?" Malady asked.
    Justin looked down at the weapon. Maybe in low, even standard gravity, but out here on the exercise pylon, which extended a hundred and fifty meters out from the main hull of the ship, he wasn't sure how well he could handle it.
    He shook his head.
    "Good decision, Bell. The mace seems to be popular with certain punks who prowl the tougher sections of the Moon's mining camps. Can be deadly in low gravity, but here you just might wind up wrapping it around your head."
    Justin finally settled on the baseball bat. He hefted it up as