"If you go over to the chapel, you will find that a mass is scheduled during which Saint Barbara will be asked to intercede for the souls of the men who were lost this afternoon. I think you realize that no priest would lend his office to any such chicanery as your friend suggests?"
Matt nodded solemnly. "I see your point, sir. I don't need to go to the chapel-I've found out what I needed to know."
"Fine. You had better hightail it and get ready. It would be embarrassing to be late to your own swearing in."
First Muster was scheduled for twenty-one o'clock in the auditorium. Matt was one of the first to arrive, scrubbed and neat and wearing a fresh coverall. A cadet took his name and told him to wait inside. The floor of the hall had been cleared of seats. Above the stage at the far end were the three closed circles of the Federation-Freedom, Peace, and Law, so intertwined that, 'if any one were removed, the other two would fall apart. Under them was the Patrol's own sign, a star blazing in the night.
Tex was one of the last to show up. He was greeting Matt, breathlessly, when a cadet, speaking from the rostrum, called out, "Attention!
"Gather on the left side of the hall," he went on. The candidates milled and shuffled into a compact group. "Remain where you are until muster. When your name is called, answer 'Here!', then walk across to the other side. You will find white guide lines on the deck there. Toe the lines to form ranks."
Another cadet came down from the rostrum and moved toward the mass of boys. He stopped, picked a slip of paper from four such slips he held, and fixed Tex with his eye. "You, mister," he said. "Take this."
Jarman took it, but looked puzzled. "What for?"
"As well as answering to your own name, when you hear this name, speak up. Step out in front and sing out, 'I answer for him!'"
Tex looked at the slip. Matt saw that it read: "John Martin."