"Well, if you're too cheap to rent one, you can ship the stuff to mine. You scratch me and I'll scratch you."
"No, thanks." He thought about expressing some things to the Terra Station post office, then discarded the idea- the rates were too high. He went' on sorting. He would keep his camera, but his micro kit would have to go, and his chessmen. Presently he had cut the list to what he hoped was twenty pounds; he took the stuff away to weigh it.
Reveille and breakfast were an hour early the next day. Shortly after breakfast the call-to-muster ran through Hay-worth Hall, to be followed by heart-quickening strains of "Raise Ship!" Matt slung his jump bag over his shoulder and hurried down to the lower corridors. He pushed his way through a throng of excited youngster cadets and found his assigned area.
Muster was by squads and Matt was a temporary squad leader, as his name came first, alphabetically, in his squad. He had been, given a list; he reached into his pouch and had an agonizing moment of thinking he had left it up in his room before his fingers closed on it. "Dodsworth!"
"Here."
"Dunstan,"
"Here."
He was still working through Frankel, Freund, and Funston when the oldster mustering the entire corridor shouted for him to report. He hurried to a conclusion, faced around, and saluted. "Squad nineteen-all present!"
Someone tittered and Matt realized suddenly that he had used the scout salute, rather than the relaxed, open-palmed gesture of the Patrol. His cheeks burned.
A brassy amplified voice called out, "AH deck parties report." In turn, the oldster in Mart's corridor called out, "Third deck party, all present." When all reports were in there was a momentary silence, long enough for Matt to have a spine-tingling anticipation of what was to come. Would they? But they were doing so; the voice over the speaker called out: "Dahlquist?"