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. It was humiliating afterwards to find that his pacesetter had "saved the ship" while he had failed.
Worse still, he was aware of her as a girl and did not know it -- all he knew was that she made him uneasy.
After one run Jeri called from ship's control, "End of drill. Stand by." He appeared shortly and examined their tapes, reading marks on sensitized paper as another might read print. He pursed his lips over Thorby's record. "Trainee, you fired three times . . . and not a one of your beasts got within fifty thousand kilometers of the enemy. We don't mind expense -- it's merely Grandmother's blood. But the object is to blast him, not scare him into a fit. You have to wait until you can hit"
"I did my best!"
"Not good enough. Let's see yours, Sis."
The nickname irritated Thorby still more. Brother and sister were fond of each other and did not bother with titles. So Thorby had tried using their names . . . and had been snubbed; he was "Trainee," they were "Senior Controlman" and "Junior Controlman." There was nothing he could do; at drill he was junior. For a week, Thorby addressed Jeri as "Foster Ortho-Nephew" outside of drills and Jeri had carefully addressed him by family title. Then Thorby decided it was silly and went back to calling him Jeri. But Jeri continued to call him "Trainee" during drill, and so did Mata.
Jeri looked over his sister's record and nodded
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