The leader climbed sharply in a bank to the left, and the two others
followed close behind. Their jet streams cut off at very near the same
time. Before their speed slowed to stalling, the rotors unfolded from
the canopy hump and beat the air viciously, the steam wisping back in
brief fingers.
Under power again, they dipped playfully in tightening circles toward
the plot-mottled earth. The fields expanded beneath them, and the leader
brought up and hovered over a farm road whose dust already stirred in
the disturbed air.
They settled as one in the rolling dust clouds from which emerged a
coveralled figure who had driven the battered pickup truck to meet them.
"Y'sure got back in a rush," he addressed the major, who was just
jumping from the plastiglas cabin.
The major nodded and put his attention on seeing that the general
descended safely. He then indicated the farmer.
"He's the one," the major said.
The general grunted socially.
Taking the opening, the farmer said, "Out there in the wheat, general."
His tone carried eager importance. "My kid saw the light come down this
morning feedin' the chickens. I felt the ground jump, too. Called the
sheriff, first off."
"All right, you were a hero," said the general shortly. "Now, Grant,
will you take me to it? I can't mess around here all day."
The party of six men, two of them technicians, waded into the field from
the road. The farmer remained to watch, frowning.
When they had progressed well into the wheat, he shouted after them
ruefully, "And watch where you're steppin', too!"
The group paused on the rim of newly gouged earth, clods and dirt that
had splashed from the center of the crater. It was nearly four feet
deep. The man the major had left on guard had uncovered more of the
blackened object, which lay three-quarters exposed and showed a warped
but cylindrical shape.
"Let's have a counter on it," the general ordered.
A technician slid into the crater and swept the metal with his
instrument. The needle swung far over and stuck.
To the other technician the general said, "Get a chunk for verification
of the alloy." He kicked a small avalanche of dirt down the crater side
and turned back to the road, adding, "Although I don't know why the
formality. Even a cadet could see that's an atomjet reactor, beat up as
it is."
The major absorbed the jibe without comeback. An hour ago he had
informed the general of his indecision over the object's identity,
though he had suspected it to be the reactor.
"We may find more when we get it examined in the shop," the general
mused, swishing by the wheat. "But at least we know they do come down
some place, and it wasn't flash fusion. On this one, anyway."
"What do you think about instituting a search of this vicinity for other
parts, general?"
The officer growled negatively. "Obviously, the reactor was the only
part not vaporized in the fall--because of its construction."
"That's assuming the ship entered the atmosphere at operational velocity
and not less than free fall," the major qualified.
"How can anyone assume free fall? Way outside probability."
"Yes, sir, but there are degrees of velocity involved. He could have
used reverse thrust and entered at a relatively slow speed."
"All right, all right--let's say possible, then. Pull off your search if
you want to. I'm in this thing so deep now, I'll try anything to get
going. I've got Congress ready to investigate, and some senator
yesterday put pressure on to cancel the United Nuclear contract. I'll
try anything at this point, Grant!"
The big man's voice had risen to anger, but Major Grant Reis had not
missed the vocal breaking in the last syllables.
* * * * *
"I'm First Lieutenant Ashley and I've an appointment to see General
Morrison."
The adjutant said, "Sorry, but you'll have to wait a little longer. The
general's unexpectedly busy."
"My appointment was over an hour ago."
"Another half-hour and you can go in."
"Another half-hour and I'll go."
"It's your bar."
The lieutenant plopped back into a chair just as Grant strode swiftly
past the adjutant's desk from the private office.
"Major," the adjutant asked, "how long is the general going to be tied
up? He won't let me in the conference and the lieutenant here is
supposed to see him."
Grant paused at the opposite door and pointing two thumb-and-forefinger
guns at his head exploded them. The adjutant groaned understandingly.
Even the first lieutenant caught on.
"Major, it's pretty important," the waiting officer said, standing
again. Grant shifted his attention.
"Look, lieutenant--" Grant bottled the sarcasm behind his suddenly lax
mouth. He saw a first lieutenant's uniform, but it bulged aesthetically;
and he saw a first lieutenant's cap and bar, but it sat rakishly on
puffed-up brown curls.
"If you'll just look at these papers, major, you'll understand. I
stratoed in from the Pentagon this morning," she said crisply.
Though it was Grant's turn to say something, he found too much of his
concentration on her challenging brown eyes and the efficient down-sweep
of her half-pouting mouth, plus a nub of a nose that pointed proudly
upwards with the tilt of her head. In a temporary defensive maneuver,
Grant took the papers handed him.
* * * * *
The borders were marked CONFIDENTIAL and the attached signatures would
have impressed even the general. The subject--he might have
expected--ATOMJET PATROL LOSSES.
"Er ... look, lieutenant-- What was it?" Grant glanced down at the
papers.
"First Lieutenant Bridget Ashley."
"Look, Lieutenant Ashley, the general's been getting nothing but
troubles all day. For your sake and his sake, I suggest you come back
tomorrow, huh?" Grant handed back the papers and put a hand on her
elbow, but she jerked back.
"Major, I've been given a great deal of responsibility in this
assignment," she flared, "and it's important for me to get work started
at once. I was led to understand these patrol losses constituted a
fairly urgent matter."
Grant glanced ominously toward the general's door. "Lieutenant, I'm
trying to explain to you that it's in your best interests to take this
up with him tomorrow. I'm one of his aides and I know him. I realize
you're authorized to see him today, but--"
"Then I'll wait." She reseated herself and emphatically crossed her
legs--a motion not escaping Grant's notice.
The adjutant and Grant mutually shrugged at each other, and Grant headed
outside, saying over his shoulder, "I'll be back in a minute."
* * * * *
As it developed, it was far more than a minute; but whatever it was,
when Grant returned she was gone. The major looked at the adjutant, and
the adjutant indicated the general's door with an apprehensive nod.
Grant bit his lip and entered the private office.
He had expected to hear the general's bass raging, but through the inner
door came the strident tones of the lieutenant's modulating contralto.
He had expected to see the general towering over the girl's shrinking
figure, but as he entered she was bent earnestly in the middle, and the
top of her torso inclined toward General Morrison, who had tilted as far
back as his swivel chair would permit.
"... So, if you haven't isolated any mechanical causation, how can you
be sure it's mechanical?" she was laying it on. "And if you're not sure
it's mechanical, how can you suggest there's no possibility of
psychological causation? The authorities that sent me here have not only
considered the possibility, they feel it's quite probable. All I am
requesting, sir, is immediate implementation of my authority so your
investigation can be broadened. It's really to your benefit that--"