The Praxis Read Online Free PDF Page B

himself the star of this encounter. Martinez had intended to throw a little justified terror into some wastrels caught drunk on duty, but somehow Foote had changed the rules. How had he done that?
    In children’s school fiction, there was always the evil bully, tormenting the youngsters, and then there was the hero, who tried to stand between the bully and his victims. Foote had made a gesture to help Silva, and now had just rescued Parker.
    And I’m the bully, Martinez thought. I’m the wicked superior officer who torments his helpless underlings just to assuage his own pathetic feelings of inadequacy.
    Foote, Martinez realized, had him pegged just about right.
    Still, he thought, if he were going to be the villain in this little drama, he might as well do it well.
    â€œParker should learn that you won’t always be there to rescue him from his own stupidity,” he said to Foote. “But since you’ve chosen to express an opinion, suppose you tell me whether Chee’s maneuver will succeed.”
    â€œShe shan’t succeed, lord,” Foote said promptly.
    â€œ Shan’t she?” Martinez said, mocking. “And whyever shan she not? ”
    Foote’s tone didn’t change. “V11’s satellite has altered course, but Chee didn’t see it because it was on the far side of the moon at the time. She’ll be too late to correct when she finally sees her error.” Foote’s tone had grown almost intimate. “Of course, Captain Blitsharts seems to have allowed for that possibility. His acceleration isn’t as great, but he’s allowing himself more options.”
    Martinez looked at the number one boat and saw the famous Blitsharts glossy black paintwork with its ochre-yellow stripes. Blitsharts was a celebrated and successful racer, a glit of the first order, famous not only for his victories, but for the fact that he always raced with his dog, a black retriever named Orange, who had his own acceleration bed in Midnight Runner ’s cockpit next to his master’s. Blitsharts claimed the dog enjoyed pulling hard gees, and certainly Orange seemed none the worse for his adventures.
    Blitsharts also had a reputation for drollery. He was once asked by a yachting enthusiast why he called the dog Orange. Blitsharts looked at the man and lifted surprised eyebrows above his mild brown eyes. “Because it’s his name, of course,” he said.
    Oh yes, Martinez thought, there was rare wit in the yacht clubs all right.
    â€œYou think Blitsharts will win?” Martinez asked.
    â€œAt this stage, it’s very likely.”
    â€œI don’t suppose Blitsharts is a relative of yours, is he?” Martinez asked.
    For the first time, Foote hesitated. “No, my lord,” he said.
    â€œHow generous of you,” Martinez said, “to mention his name in conversation,” and was rewarded by seeing the cadet’s neck and ears turn red.
    Chee crashed into V11’s atmosphere, her craft trailing a stream of ions as it cut through the moon’s hydrocarbon murk. She saw her target’s change of course too late, altered her heading and burned antimatter to try to make her mark. Her bones must have groaned with the ferocious gees she laid on, but she was a few seconds too late.
    Blitsharts, on the other hand, hit the atmosphere with his usual impeccable timing, burned for the satellite, and passed it without breaking a sweat. And then kept accelerating, his torch pushing him onward past his mark.
    â€œPerhaps, Cadet Foote, you will favor us with an analysis of Blitsharts’s tactics now ,” Martinez said.
    â€œOf course, lord. He’s…” Foote’s voice trailed away.
    Blitsharts’s boat stood on a colossal tail of matter-antimatter fire and burned straight out of the plane of the ecliptic. Foote stared at the screen in confusion. Blitsharts seemed to be heading away from his next target, away from all his