seemed to leap

upwards, cutting him off from the overground; hemming him in;

suffocating him. Within seconds, all that remained of the sky world

was a flat slab of blue visible through the clearview wing panels above

the cockpit.

The ramp doors slid open noiselessly as the Skyhawk reached the double

yellow line. The green light signalled he was clear to taxi in.

Brickman knew that the brightly-lit tunnel beyond represented safety;

offered total protection against the dangers of the overground yet he

found himself momentarily paralysed; gripped by an inexplicable fear.

A fear of being buried alive.

With an involuntary movement, he hit the brake pedal, holding the

Skyhawk's nose on the double yellow line. One, two, three, four, five

seconds. Six, seven A warning klaxon blared harshly. The controller's

voice spoke quietly into his ear. 'Clear the ramp, Easy X-Ray One."

The voice paused then added, 'Your data line is down but we have no

malfunction signal. Check system, over."

Brickman moved his right arm back and glanced down at the data

transmitter to which his body was wired. A chill shiver ran through

him. It was switched off! Somehow he must have unwittingly knocked it

with his elbow. Oh, Christopher Columbus! How could he have done such

a stupid thing? And When? I He quickly flipped the switch back into

the 'on' position and berated himself silently. Oh, shit, shit, and

triple shit. You bonehead! You've blown it!

The bland, disembodied voice of Ground Control cut across his mental

confusion. 'Okay, we have your data. Roll it in, Easy X-Ray One."

Willing an inner and outward calm upon his body, Brickman eased his

foot off the brakes and taxied in under the raised section of the outer

door. As soon as he was inside, the lower section rose with a barely

audible hiss and the inner doors slid out of the walls. As the bright

rectangle of daylight in his rearview mirror shrank rapidly and

disappeared behind the overlapping curtains of concrete, Brickman did

his best to bury the strange, troubling feelings that had assailed him

during the flight. Dangerous, treacherous sensations that he could not

put into words; that would be better forgotten but which he knew would

haunt him for the rest of his life.

What Brickman had experienced was a sense of freedom.

His inability to perceive this, or to put a name to it, was perfectly

understandable. The word 'freedom' did not appear in the Federation's

dictionary. It was, of course, known to the highest ranks of the First

Family but officially, the concept did not exist.

CFI Carrol waved the senior classmen back into their seats and took his

place at the lectern. The six assistant FI's led by Mr Triggs lined up

against the wall behind him.

'It's been a long haul,' said Carrol, 'but we've come to the end of the

line. After home-base leave, you'll be shipping out on your first unit

assignments. Between then and now you're going to be busy drilling for

the big anniversary parade so, as this is probably my last opportunity

to address you as a group, I thought I'd mark the occasion with a few

farewell words."

Carrol paused and let his eyes range slowly over the seated cadets.

'I've seen the results ' The senior year reacted with a rustle of

excitement.

Carrol held up a hand. 'Hold it. The marks and places will be

screened as scheduled tomorrow. However, what i can tell you is that

there are no wipeouts, and no retreads."

The news was received with total silence.

Carrol shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe it and turned to

the AFI's. 'Amazing. None of them look at all surprised."

The three hundred cadets, over a third of them girls, broke into

laughter. They all knew no one would be choked for airing their teeth

today. Not by Carrol, anyway.

'I know what you're thinking,' continued Carrol. ' "Here it comes.

The CFI's standard address to every graduation class." Not so. I have

to tell you that three years ago when you joined the Academy, we