Biggs stammered, "I—I—"
"What!" Hanson's bellow raised a dozen decibels. "You impertinent young jackanapes! Did you hear him, Sparks? He said, 'Aye, aye!' Well, I'll show you—"
He extended a horny palm. "Your rocket, sir!"
Lancelot Biggs' lips quivered. He reached up and mechanically unpinned from its place over his left breast the tiny, shining gold rocket replica which is the brevet of a space lieutenant. Hanson snatched it. In a decisive voice he said, "I'm markin' you down, Biggs, for insubordination, for slander of a senior officer, conduct unbecomin' an officer, intent to malign an' injure, an'—Well, that's all for now. Maybe I'll think of a few more things later on.
"To your quarters, Mister Biggs. An' consider yourself under arrest until further notice."
Biggs saluted; turned on his heel and marched from the room. And it struck me, suddenly, that for once there was nothing amusing, nothing humorous, in the youngster's gangling walk. Oh, he stalked, yes. And I've often kidded him about how much like a crab on stilts he looks. But now I felt sort of choky when I saw the pathetic dignity in the set of his shoulders, the proud way he strode away without a backward glance.
I guess I lifted my own gravs for a minute. My voice sounded harsh in my own ears when I snarled at Hanson, "Well, you certainly threw the book at him that time!"
But to my surprise, Cap Hanson was grinning. He looked like an Ampie in a power plant. And he said, placatingly, "Oh, come now, Sparks! You don't think I'm such an ogre as all that, do you?"
"You busted him," I accused. "You lifted his rocket and put him under arrest. When the Corporation learns about it, they'll—"
"The Corporation," said the skipper, "isn't goin' to hear about it. I'm not even goin' to put this on the log. This is between you an' me and Lancelot Biggs, Sparks. Don't you see? I had to do somethin' to separate him an' Diane."