“Yes, sir!” shouted nine marines at the top of their lungs. Only Mailn was grinning.

Rogers sighed and sagged his shoulders. “Someone shoot me now.”

One of the marines reached for her pistol.

“That’s not an order!” Rogers yelped, and jumped out of his seat.

“Come on, speed bag,” Mailn said, getting up and stretching. “I’ve got business down there. I’ll walk with you.”

“My name is Rogers.”

“I could call you ‘sir,’ ” Mailn said slowly.

“Oh, shut up. Let’s just get out of here before I have to eat anything else.”

The trip to the training deck, an entirely separate level of the Flagship, was just a quick ride on the up-line away, and as they stepped into the car, Rogers noticed that the same “guardwoman” who had blocked his first attempt at riding the in-line was standing watch. She tugged her conductor’s hat down further over her eyes, which was unfortunate, because Rogers really wanted her to see him sticking his tongue out at her as they boarded an empty car.

“So, what’s your story?” Mailn asked as she stretched out languidly across a row of empty seats. “You don’t look fresh enough to be a new ensign out of the Academy.”

Rogers chuckled a little as he sat down. “It’d take me longer than an up-line ride to explain it.” And he wasn’t really into self-incriminating. “Let’s just say I had a break in service followed by an unexpected commission. What about you?”

Mailn shrugged. “Eh, you know. Grew up in one of the big cities on Merida Prime, got involved in a few things that maybe weren’t good ideas at the time, wanted to start over.” She looked vaguely embarrassed but hid it with her cocksure grin. “Now I’m a marine, doing some things that maybe aren’t good ideas. But at least I get to shoot stuff.”

Rogers looked at her. “I guess that’s a benefit. I’ve never been much of a shoot-’em-up guy myself.”

Mailn raised an eyebrow. “I never would have guessed.”

They traveled in silence for a few moments, the interior of the Flagship zipping by outside the narrow windows of the car.

“It’s kind of nice traveling so early,” Rogers said, stretching out. “Everyone’s still asleep, so there’s nobody to crowd the cars.”

Mailn shot him a sideways glance. “Asleep? Everyone’s already at work. That’s why nobody is in the car.”

Rogers shook his head in disbelief. This wasn’t the 331st at all.

“This is unbelievable,” Rogers said as the up-line came to a stop and let them off on the training deck.

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Mailn said as they exited the up-line onto the training deck.

“Seems pretty bad to me,” Rogers said. “Since I got back, I haven’t played a single card game, had a single drink, or slid down any soaped-up hallways on my bare belly.”

“It’s the trouble with the Thelicosans,” Mailn said. “Everyone’s on edge.”

They walked past a group of dour-faced finance troops, all of whom, for some reason, were wearing old-fashioned karate uniforms and sweating profusely. One of them threw a clipboard into the air and broke it with a devastating spinning back kick.