... They were all a recruit, frightened before DiCredico ...
It took DiCredico ten minutes to get through his talk with Bailey, speaking in tough, slicing sentences. The service was no bed of roses, said the skipper, and nobody in the service had ever claimed it was. It was a damned mean racket and nobody asked you to get into it. You volunteered. And you didn't have to stay. Before each voyage you could ask for honorable discharge, or earth duty if available. But once you blasted off, you had to stand the gaff. You had to.
There were men who cracked. There were whole crews. If one man lost control, another might, and finally all of them. Nobody knew how many flights were lost through "mental hazard." There were shrewd guesses.
Bailey could make the Ranger another missing ship. And they weren't on freight nor patrol—they were on a rescue mission. He should think about that.
You had to learn to use the television and the other corny "entertainment"—let it soak you up, take you away for awhile.
He could have Bailey put under dormisol, so he'd sleep through the rest of the trip. But he was needed. But he could request it, and DiCredico would do it.
Bailey did not request it. He went back and shook hands with Regan, who was very decent about it all, and sat down to learn to use the television.
Things were a little better after that.
... And they relaxed a little, the many that were one ...
Krotzer's reports kept coming in, and they were nearing the unknown satellite. Everyone felt a little numble-witted because the meteor patch was leaking and pressure was low. DiCredico kept a tight routine and they leaned into it for support.