VIII TERRA STATION
"LIBERTY PARTY-man the scooter!"
Matt zipped up the front of his space suit and hurriedly ran through the routine check. Oscar and Tex urged him along, as the liberty party was already filing through the door of the lock. The cadet officer-of-the-watch checked Matt in and sealed the door of the lock behind him.
The lock was a long corridor, sealed at each end, leading to a hangar pocket in the side of the Randolph in which the scooter rockets were stowed. The pressure died away and the far end of the lock opened; Matt pulled himself along, last in line, and found the scooter loaded. He could not find a place; the passenger racks were filled with space-suited cadets, busy strapping down.
The cadet pilot beckoned to him. Matt picked his way forward and touched helmets. "Mister," said the oldster, "can you read instruments?"
Guessing that he referred only to the simple instrument panel of a scooter, Matt answered, "Yes, sir."
"Then get in the co-pilot's chair. What's your mass?"
"Two eighty-seven, sir," Matt answered, giving the combined mass, in pounds, of himself and his suit with all its equipment. Matt strapped down, then looked around, trying to locate Tex and Oscar. He was feeling very important, even though a scooter requires a co-pilot about as much as a hog needs a spare tail.
The oldster entered Mart's mass on his center-of-gravity and moment-of- inertia chart, stared at it thoughtfully and said to Matt, "Tell Gee-three to swap places with Bee-two."
Matt switched on his walky-talky and gave the order. There was a scramble while a heavy-set youngster changed seats } with a smaller cadet. The pilot gave a high sign to the cadet manning the hangar pocket; the scooter and its launching cradle swung out of the pocket, pushed by power- driven lazy tongs.