place against their wishes. None had wanted to come here. Few had any
desire to stay. Whereas at the Academy--

How, he wondered, had those other guys they'd booted out really felt?
None had complained--or even said much. They'd just packed their gear
and picked up their tickets. There had been no expression of
frustrated rage to approach his. Maybe there was something wrong with
him--some unknown fault that put him out of phase with all others.

He hadn't liked it at all.

His memory went back to his last conversation with Major Michaels. The
officer had listened, then shaken his head decisively.

"Look, Graham, a re-examination wouldn't help. We just can't retain
you."

"But I'm sure--"

"No, it won't work. Your academic record isn't outstanding in any area
and Gravitics is one of the most important courses we've got."

"But I don't see how I could have bugged it, sir. I got a good grade
on the final examination."

"True, but there were several before that. And there were your daily
grades." Michaels glanced at the papers on his desk.

"I can't say what went wrong, but I think you missed something, way
back at the beginning. After that, things got worse and you ran out of
time. This is a pretty competitive place, you know, and we probably
drop some pretty capable men, but that's the way it is."

"Sir, I'm certain I know--"

"It isn't enough to know. You've got to know better than a lot of
other people."

Michaels got to his feet and came around the desk.

"Look, there's no disgrace in getting an academic tossout from here.
You had to be way above average to get here. And very few people can
make it for one year, let alone three or four."

He raised a hand as Stan started to speak.

"I know. You think it looks as though you'd broken down somehow. You
didn't. From the day you came here, everyone looked for weaknesses. If
there'd been a flaw, they'd have found it--and they'd have been on you
till you came apart--or the flaw disappeared. We lose people that
way." He shrugged.

"You didn't fall apart. They just got to you with some pretty rough
theory. You don't have to bow your head to anybody about that."

* * * * *

Stan looked at the heavily barred door before him.

"No," he told himself, "I don't suppose I'm the galaxy's prize boob,
but I'm no high value shipment, either. I'm just some guy that not
only couldn't make the grade, but couldn't even make it home wit