"Got to pass," said a voice. Johnny, the pilot, was stirring.
"Ha!" Anderson's voice was exultant. "Here comes another one!"
"How sure are you of that?" asked the doctor. To Johnny, he called, "Hiya, John?"
"I got to pass," said Johnny worriedly. He swung his feet to the deck. "You see," he said earnestly, "being the head of your class doesn't make it any easier. You've got to keep that and pass the examinations too. You've got two jobs. Now, the guy who stands fourth, say—he has only one job to do."
Anderson turned a blank face to Paresi, who made a silencing gesture. Johnny put his head in his hands and said, "When one variable varies directly as another, two pairs of their corresponding values are in proportion." He looked up. "That's supposed to be the keystone of all vector analysis, the man says, and you don't get to be a pilot without vector analysis. And it makes no sense to me. What am I going to do?"
"Get some shuteye," said Paresi immediately. "You've been studying too hard. It'll make more sense to you in the morning."
Johnny grinned and yawned at the same time, the worried wrinkles smoothing out. "Now that was a real educational remark, Martin, old chap," he said. He lay down and stretched luxuriously. "That I can understand. You may wear my famous maroon zipsuit." He turned his face away and was instantly asleep.
"Who the hell is Martin?" Ives demanded. "Martin who?"
"Shh. Probably his roommate in pre-pilot school."