Almost immediately upon receipt of the message, some of the animosity toward me lifted, but hardly enough for me to consider myself accepted as a member of the crew, although there was a good deal more work done after that.
Six days before our scheduled departure date, Commander Frendon arrived. I was in the control cabin with Lieutenant Spender, Third Officer, when Lieutenant Harding, the Astrogator entered. He limped around the little room a couple of times and then slumped dejectedly into a chair. "Well," he said, "we've had it, boys."
Spender looked around at him quickly, saying, "What's that?"
"I said we've had it. I just saw the new CO, walking over from the Operations office."
"What about it?" I asked sharply.
Harding shook his heavy, balding head, staring at the floor. "It's written all over him," he said bitterly.
"No!" muttered Spender.
"Yep," Harding growled. "Just wait until you lay eyes on him."
He stood up and faced me, his expression bleak and cold. "A sickman, Mr. Exec," he snarled. "Just as sure as death."
As previously noted, discipline was very lax, but I had been trying to restore it as much as possible. So I said, "I don't know whether the new CO is a member of the Psi Corps or not, Harding, but cut out this nickname of 'sick.'"