1
INTO TROUBLE AND OUT OF SCHOOL
“Trouble?” asked Jeff, a little shakily. “Why am I in trouble?” He was only fourteen, for all his height, and
it seemed to him that he had been asking that question for at least twelve of those years.
At first he had had to ask it of his parents, then his older brother, his teacher, and his computer
control. It hadn’t been too bad then, but having to ask it now of the head of the Space Command was
setting a new record. He didn’t exactly feel good about it.
Standing right next to Jeff was Agent Two Gidlow, who was no help at all. He was dressed entirely
in gray, and his angry red eyes glared at Jeff with contempt. Even his skin seemed sallow and off-color.
“You’re not only in trouble,” Gidlow said to Jeff. “You are trouble. “ He turned to Admiral Yobo
and cut the air horizontally with a sweep of his hand, as if that were Jeff’s neck it was passing through.
“Admiral, when a troublemaker muddles the computers....”
The admiral stayed calm. The Space Academy, which was under Space Command, had serious
problems to face and he was at the cutting edge of it all. The matter of a misbehaving cadet was not
something he had to twist his insides over.
Besides, he liked Jeff, who was the kind of tall and clumsy teenager he himself had once been
some years ago (though that was beside the point), and he found himself wearied now and then by Gidlow’s
strenuous disciplinarianism (though that was beside the point, too).
“See here, Gidlow,” said Admiral Yobo with a mild frown corrugating his wide, black forehead,
“why all the fuss? Remember that you are not part of the academy and have no authority here. If you’re
going to follow up every prank by hauling the cadet in question into my office to be grilled by Federation
Security Control, I’m going to have no time for anything else. All I’ve gotten so far is that he was trying to
sleep-learn, and there’s nothing in the rules against that.”
“If you do it right, there isn’t, Admiral,” said Gidlow. “Doing it wrong is another thing. He tied
into the main computer network--he says by accident--”
“Of course by accident, Agent Gidlow,” said Jeff earnestly. He pushed his curly brown hair out of
his eyes and stood as straight as he could so he’d be taller than the agent. “I mean why should I do it on
purpose?”
Gidlow smiled unpleasantly. His rather pointed teeth seemed as gray as his clothing and his sallow
skin. “If you prefer, Cadet, you did it out of stupidity, which is no better. Admiral, I bring this to you
because it is a security expulsion matter, and that’s for you to handle.”
“Security?”
“The way this cadet tied himself into the main computer network--by accident, he says--has
resulted in the kitchen computer getting the wrong set of data.”
“Data? What data?” Gidlow pursed his lips, “It would not be proper to discuss it before a cadet.”
“Don’t be a fool, Gidlow. If this is an expulsion matter, the young man has a right to know what
he’s done.”
“One thing is--and it may be enough all by itself--as a result of his idiotic link-up, everything is
being filtered through the kitchen computer. And this means, among other things, that all the recipes are
now in Martian Colony Swahili.”
The admiral, who had been playing with the buttons on his desk, began to chuckle as he stared
into his private viewer. “I see that one Jefferson Wells, age fourteen, failed to pass Martian Colony Swahili
last semester.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jeff, trying not to fidget. “I didn’t seem to get the hang of it. I’m doing makeup
now, sir, and I was trying to sleep-learn before the final exam next week. I’m terribly sorry about the
computer. I thought I was following the directions correctly, and I can’t think where I went wrong.”
“You can’t think, period,” said Gidlow. “What it amounts to, of course, Admiral, is that until the
recipes are reconverted into Terran Basic, or until the kitchen computer is reprogrammed to handle Martian
Swahili, there’s no way of running the kitchen. No one in Space Command is going to be able to eat. We
won’t even be able to have canned food released. I think,” he added glumly, “we might be able to get a