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It didn't open。 He yanked hard at the recessed pull； and broke a fingernail； the door didn't move at all。 He thumped it with his fist； muttering； with the same effect as thumping a very large boulder： his fist hurt； and the door did not move。
He had flicked the controls of the to George's cabin when the realization first came。。。。 This could not be an accident。 The was dead； no amount of shaking the unit or poking the controls made any sound whatever e out of the speakers。 He flung himself at the terminal console again； determined to break through。 The screen came on when he pressed the switch； but it responded to nothing he did。 No text； no images； no。。。 nothing。
〃Dammit！〃 He followed that with a string of everything he knew； and finished； some minutes later； with； 〃It isn't fair！〃
From the er of his eye； he saw the screen flicker。 Only then did it occur to him that while he might be cut off from the outside； the outside might very well be watching him。 He came closer。
ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR。 The screen's script even seemed to have a nasty expression。 DON'T MESS WITH MY SHIP。 The meaning was clear enough； though he was in no mood to give in。 But the messages stayed； two clear lines； and again nothing he did changed them。 Ronnie turned away； furious； and kicked the bulkhead between his room and his private bath。 With a whoosh； the toilet flushed； and flushed again； and flushed again； three loud and unmistakable raspberries。
〃You can't do this to me！〃 he yelled at the ceiling。 This is my aunt's yacht！〃
The shower came on； the automatic doors that should have enclosed it had not budged； and he had to wrestle them into place。 A dense steam filled his bathroom。 He saw with horror that the drain hadn't opened； water rose rapidly； then trickled out between the doors。 He yanked towels from the racks； from the cupboards； and threw them at the overflow。。。。 If it got into the bedroom； it would stain the carpet。。。。 His mother； not just Aunt Cecelia； would be furious if he stained new carpet。 When every towel was soaked； the drain opened； as if it had eyes to see； the shower stopped； and the water drained peacefully away。
The wet towels squished under his feet； his shoes were soaked； and his trousers to the knees。 Ronnie felt the onslaught of a large headache； and glared at the mess。 He wrung out the towels into the shower enclosure … better than walking on the wet mess … and hung as many as he could from the racks。 The floor was slick； it could be dangerous。 He grubbed into the back of the cupboard and found the cleaning equipment he had never used。 A sponge … dry； for a wonder … a long…handled brush； a short…handled brush； and two bottles of cleaning solution； one blue and one green。 The sponge eventually soaked up most of the damp on the floor； though it still felt clammy。
He had only thought he'd been angry before。 Now he experienced the full range of anger。。。 anger he had not even suspected he could feel。 He was so angry that for once in his life he did not strike out at walls or doors or furniture。 Instead； he went back to the terminal and sat before it。 As he had expected； the screen had another message line now： YOU ARE CONFINED TO QUARTERS。 YOU WILL RECEIVE ADEQUATE RATIONS。
He wasn't hungry； he didn't care about any blankety…blank rations。。。。 He filled in all the blanks he usually did not allow himself to fill； forgetting none of the expressions he'd ever heard。 But he did so silently。 He was not going to give her the satisfaction。
How had she done it？ How had she figured it out？ She wasn't that smart； she had to be nearly as old as Aunt Cecelia。 He fumed； silently； staring at the screen。 Suddenly it cleared； and after a moment of blankness； reappeared in almost normal configuration。 Almost； because the usual munications icon had been replaced by a black diamond。
Gingerly； as if the screen could bite him； he touched the service icon。 A menu appeared： food； linens； clothing； air temperature； water； medical assistance。
He thought it had had a few more items the last time he'd noticed it。。。 but he hadn't paid much attention。 The servants were usually hovering； he hadn't needed to call them。 Now he touched linens。 The screen blanked and displayed a flashing blue message： NOT IN SERVICE。
〃What d'you mean； not in service！〃 he growled。 In the bathroom； the toilet burped： warning。 He pressed his lips together； amazed that he could be even angrier than a moment before。 He was stuck with wet towels。。。 what a petty revenge。 That captain must e from a very ill…bred family。 When he did revenge； he did it with style。 He poked the board again； it returned him to the service menu。 He thought of trying every single choice； but decided against it。 It would only make him angrier to know that the others didn't work either。
He backed out of the service menu and looked at the main screen。 Innocent； bland； it looked back。 No munications； and missing functions on other icons； he didn't doubt。 What else could he try？ Information？ He almost snarled at the little blue question mark； but controlled himself and put a finger on it。
The screen blanked and gave him a solid ten seconds of GOOD CHOICE before turning up the information menu。 He had never tried this one before； since he'd never thought a ship as small as his aunt's could hold serious surprises。
Now； he found a choice of items he was sure had not been his aunt's idea。
1。 WHAT DID I DO WRONG？
2。 WHAT CAN I DO NOW？
3。 WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO？
4。 WHAT DO THE OTHERS KNOW ABOUT ALL THIS？
It looked like someone's bad idea of a strategy game。 He was going to have nothing to do with it。。。。 It had to be a trap。。。 but after sitting there for a long time he realized he was tired； stiff； and hungry。 Food had been promised； though it hadn't arrived。。。 and he did wonder just how much the little captain knew。
He pressed the first choice。 In a cheerful electronic voice； the monitor said； 〃Good choice。〃 Ronnie jumped。 He'd hated the more vocal teaching puters he'd happened across。 This one had a particularly chirpy intonation。 The screen blanked； then filled with a list which he supposed represented his errors。 It was not framed in terms his Aunt Cecelia would use； what hurt particularly was the assumption that he and the captain shared a frame of reference。。。 the military。 In just the way that his instructors had dissected unfortunate actions of the past； she dissected his action against her。
Without； it seemed； the least rancor。 That hurt； too。 She didn't think of him as a rich spoiled brat … but as an inpetent junior officer； one of many。
He did not like being one of many。
He was chagrined to learn that his hooks had been found and rebaited； so to speak； she had the entire conversation with George （it was played back for him） and from his own speech samples had produced messages to the others telling them he felt like some time alone。
〃Of course；〃 the puter voice said brightly； 〃they think you're in here plotting more mischief against the captain and crew。〃
〃But when am I … 〃 He stopped when he heard the water start to run in the bathroom again。 Evidently； he was not meant to do any talking。
〃If you have questions；〃 the voic