Fly the Winged Horse!
Rick held a servomotor in place while Phil Sherman, one of the other
technicians, bolted it securely.
"There you are," Phil said. "Anything else?"
"That does it. Thanks, Phil. I can wire it up now." Rick got to work,
connecting up the newly installed servo. Like other servomotors it was
tiny and powerful, translating electronic signals into mechanical
actions. This particular one was no larger than a spool of thread, but
it would actuate control tabs on the wings of Pegasus. Other motors
ranged in size from even smaller to quite large ones about as big as a
gallon can. The small ones were terrifically expensive, probably the
reason they had been attractive to the Earthman and his gang.
When Rick was finished with the simple connections, he called Dr. Bond.
The elderly scientist checked carefully, then nodded approval.
Phil Sherman stuck his head in the door. "Dick Earle wants everyone out
front. Staff meeting."
Rick and Dr. Bond hurriedly disconnected soldering irons and went out to
the main shed.
The Pegasus staff was gathering around Dr. Gordon, who was using a large
packing case for a podium. Rick saw the section chiefs conversing in low
tones next to Gordon's perch, and his heart pounded. Had the Earthman
appeared again?
Then, as the staff finally collected and Dr. Gordon began, Rick relaxed
a little. This wasn't about the Earthman, apparently.
"We are about to make a major schedule change," Gordon began. "However,
until we consult with the Pegasus group, we will not know if the change
is feasible.
"The Cetus group has run into a major roadblock. One essential piece of
apparatus cannot be delivered on schedule, because of trouble at the
factory where it's being made. In all probability Cetus will be held up
about three weeks. Now, as some of you know, the Cetus staff had already
begun work at the pad, and in the blockhouse. The question is, does
Pegasus wish to take over the Cetus schedule?"
Gordon held up his hand as a murmur swept the Pegasus crew. "This does
not mean you must shoot on their firing date. It merely means that you
must be out of the way by the time they are ready to move in again. If
you can, we will switch the schedule around and put you next. If you
can't, it will only mean that your firing date must be delayed. It's up
to you--specifically, it's up to your chiefs. However, we wanted you all
to know about Cetus just to spike any wild rumors that might get
started. The delay is not due to anything but a factory failure to
deliver."
Dr. Gordon yielded his improvised speaker's stand to Dr. Howard Bernais,
the project technical director. Dr. Bernais was administrative and
technical head of the entire project. Presumably he met with the section
chiefs fairly often, but he had an office near John Gordon in the main
administrative building and seldom came to the project.
The technical director was a gray-haired, gaunt, bespectacled man who
surveyed the staff through thick lenses. His voice filled the great
shed, not that he spoke loudly, but because he had that indefinable
something known as "command presence." Rick was impressed.
"We sometimes forget, we technical people, that we live in a democracy,"
Dr. Bernais began. "We're so used to taking orders that when someone
offers us a free choice we're rather surprised. However, when John
Gordon spoke to me about a change in schedule, I felt we should talk it
over. If you, as the people who will make Pegasus live up to its name,
are eager and willing, the change will work. If you have doubts, it may
not."
The technical director peered through his thick lenses and located Lars
Jannsson. "You have some difficult problems with the third-stage motor,
Lars. Can you be ready?"
Jannsson turned to his crew for confirmation, then nodded. "We will be
ready whenever you say, Dr. Bernais."
Robert Bialkin, head of the air-frame section, spoke up. "We're just
about done anyway, Doctor. We have a few minor modifications of the
airfoils, then we're finished."
"Good. Where is Cliff Damon?... What shape are you in?"
Before Damon could reply, Prince Machiavelli put in an appearance. The
little spacemonk had apparently decided it was too lonely in the
workshop. Now he jumped from head to head, ignoring the surprised cries
of the staff, until he landed on Rick's shoulder.
Amid the laughter, Cliff Damon said, "Here's one of our chief
instruments to speak for himself. I think he's ready."
Dr. Bernais peered at the marmoset, then nodded gravely. "Just one
suggestion. He will undoubtedly be man- or monk-of-the-week on the cover
of a news magazine. Perhaps you should give him a crew haircut, so he'll
look more like one of the staff." He held up his hand and the chuckles
subsided. "Then you can be ready, Cliff?... Good. Dick Earle! It's now
up to you. How say you?"
Dick hesitated. Rick watched him, anxious to see what his chief would
say. He cuddled the spacemonk in his arms and stroked the silky head.
"We'll have to put in plenty of overtime," Dick said finally. "I think
we can make it all right, but it will put a load on the staff. What do
you think, boys?"
Rick joined in the chorus of yeas! If every other section could be
ready, electronics would be, too.
"There's your answer, Doctor," Dick Earle said.
"Thank you. Now I ask for a unanimous opinion. Can we fly our winged
horse on this new schedule?"
The shout sent Prince Machiavelli skittering up to Rick's neck and down
inside his shirt.
Pegasus was committed to flight!
The problem of the Earthman was looming larger, Rick thought. The next
target for the saboteur would be his own project. The very idea made him
a little ill. Pegasus was too big, too important to be sabotaged! But he
recalled ruefully, Orion had also been too big and important. Of course
no trace of the Earthman had been found by the Orion staff, but the
servomotor theft seemed to tie the Earthman to the disaster.
"I'm going to be up to my neck in spaghetti," Rick told Scotty when they
met for supper. "I don't see how there'll be much chance to look for the
Earthman."
"It should be better than ever," Scotty objected. "For the first time,
you'll be right on the target."
That was true, Rick agreed. He hadn't looked at it in quite that way.
"What are your plans?" he asked.
"I'm going to concentrate on the warehouse. Remember what Colonel
Preston said about the clerks? They swore they hadn't seen any
unauthorized person entering while they were watching the shoot."
"But they couldn't have kept an eye on the warehouses," Rick objected.
"Anyone could have sneaked in."
Scotty shook his head. "I don't think so. Of course they watched the
shoots, but you can also bet they were turning pretty often to look at
the warehouses. They must have seen some activity. Otherwise, why would
they say _unauthorized_ persons?"
"I can't imagine," Rick admitted. "What's your idea?"
"The only people who could go in and out without being noticed
particularly, or challenged, would be members of the service staff."
"Like the postman?"
"Yes. Or telephone repairmen, or power men, or janitors, or plumbers.
There must be a dozen different kinds of people who have the run of the
base because of their duties. I'm going to keep an eye open to see who
goes in and out regularly--and Luis Hermosa is going to help."
"Luis? How can he help?"
"The fire station has a good view of the warehouses. You know how
firemen are. When they're not cleaning or making repairs, they like to
sit out front. Luis is out of the infirmary and back on limited duty,
and another pair of eyes will help. Once we establish who has free run
of the warehouses, I'll try to see which of them have any connection
with Mac or Pancho. Okay?"
"Sounds good," Rick agreed. "And I'll keep my red-rimmed eyes wide open
down at the pad, too. We'll get something on this Earthman yet!"