GS star ships are designed to accommodate twenty-four men in reasonable
comfort--a figure arrived at more historically--the sum of
experience--than arbitrarily, as the minimum number necessary for the
adequate exploration of a new star system.
It breaks down this way: six men to a team, four teams maximum; three
for planetary grounding, one for ship's con; since any given team can do
either task, they are interchangeable, who gets which depends upon
rotation; three for exploration, then, because averages spread over
several generations of interstellar capability bear out the fact that
mother primaries generally possess no more than three planets that are
in the least amicable to humans.
I was more than cursorily familiar with the drill. The basic requirement
for Interstel is five years' service with a survey team. I'd spent nine.
Which is another reason for general GS enmity: the turncoat syndrome.
That and the fact that prospective agents are not even considered unless
they rate in the top one per cent in service qualification and fitness
reports: the jealousy angle. I'd known Moya from my last regular duty
ship. I'd worked up from assistant under his tutelage. I'd been ready
for the Team Co-ordinator/Master Spaceman exams when I'd applied for
transfer. Moya had raged for hours. But he'd given me a first-rate
recommendation. Call it service pride.
I was just getting a start on the vid tapes when the cubicle's panel
dilated and Moya stamped in, bristling like a game cock.
"What's all this about Epsilon-Terra?"