Although Floyd wanted to get up and go as soon as possible, he made himself stay quietly in his bunk until he was sure both his roommates were asleep. Then he pulled on his utility uniform, slipped the straps of his pack over his shoulders, and crept out of the barracks. The spaceport was on the far side of the compound from the training area, but he knew how to get there. Even taking a roundabout route and trying to move as unobtrusively as he could, he was there in less than an hour. He approached one of the walk-in gates opposite the brightly lit active area. Two senior cadets in night camouflage guarded it, one armed with a ready knife.
Floyd gave the password. They stepped aside without a word and let him pass. “Go in peace, cousin,” one whispered as he eased between them. From there
