He looked up at the building ahead of him, noting the coarse, weathered stone of the walls. The severe, vertical lines of the mass reminded him of Kendall Hall, back at the Stellar Guard Academy. He smiled wryly.
There were, he told himself, differences. People rarely left this place against their wishes. None had wanted to come here. Few had any desire to stay. Whereas at the Academy—
How, he wondered, had those other guys they'd booted out really felt? None had complained—or even said much. They'd just packed their gear and picked up their tickets. There had been no expression of frustrated rage to approach his. Maybe there was something wrong with him—some unknown fault that put him out of phase with all others.
He hadn't liked it at all.
His memory went back to his last conversation with Major Michaels. The officer had listened, then shaken his head decisively.
"Look, Graham, a re-examination wouldn't help. We just can't retain you."
"But I'm sure—"
"No, it won't work. Your academic record isn't outstanding in any area and Gravitics is one of the most important courses we've got."
"But I don't see how I could have bugged it, sir. I got a good grade on the final examination."
"True, but there were several before that. And there were your daily grades." Michaels glanced at the papers on his desk.