Rawlins smiled. He reached out his hand. "Good luck, Dan," he said. He
clapped him on the shoulder.
When they were gone, Dan dropped the helmet over his face. He walked
slowly across the room with his hands in front of him like a blind man.
Finally he lifted up across the room with his hands in front of the
helmet and knocked out the dark glass in the eye slot. Then he slipped
it back on. From one of the drawers in a small desk beside the control
table he lifted out a small rectangular object and slipped it in his
pocket. He seated himself before the control table.
The dials on the edge of the table glowed dimly. In the center of the
flat top was a large circular graph with white lines that pulsed like
a network of capillaries. He looked across the table through the big
window. Everything except one nearby tower was hidden in swirling mists.
The speaker at his side clicked on. He heard Rawlins' voice. "I picked
'em up Dan. They're coming in at minimum speed--seventy point two nine
five degrees. I didn't mention the freighter."
Dan flicked a small switch on the table edge. A straight white line
of light shot out across the graph, then swung slowly back and forth
through an arc of ten degrees like a searching feeler. Suddenly it
steadied and an orange bead appeared at its terminus. Dan watched the
bead travel down the line, across the pulsing capillaries. He reached
out and grasped a small lever sticking out of the table top. As he
pressed the lever to one side, the line moved around the graph like
a pointer, carrying the orange bead with it. He watched it till the
bead reached the center of the graph, and then glanced up through the
window. Above the far end of the field he could discern the dim orange
glow of a rocket's keel jets.
Suddenly he jerked back his head. A beam of purple light was playing
back and forth across the table. It swept over his gloved hands, across
his arms and chest, and moved upward toward his face. He jumped up,
keeping hold of the lever and studied the angle of the small beam. The
reflection on the dark cloth of his jacket was making him dizzy. He
reached into his pocket....
[Illustration: _Suddenly ... a beam of purple light!_]
From the observation tower Rawlins watched the rocket sweep toward the
field with keel jets blazing. As it reached the strip it seemed to
falter and dip. Rawlins clenched his hands and swore. Then it steadied
and slid in to a perfect landing.
The intercommunication telaudio flashed on. He saw Dan Kearns' haggard
face under the uplifted welder's helmet.
"Rawlins. The roof on tower three. Check it right away. I think...."
Kearns' body abruptly went rigid; he fell across the control-room table.
* * * * *
Dan Kearns came to on the floor of the control-room with the doctor
working over him.
"How do you feel?" the doctor asked.
"Like I've been sitting in an electric chair."
"You'll be all right," the doctor said. "Compared to Stevens you got a
mild dose."
Dan looked around him. He saw Rawlins' boots and glanced upward. "Did
you check the tower?"
"Yep, we found him--dead. Just like Stevens. He was one of Roehm's men
all right. He had a flashlight. We tried it on one of the doc's white
rats." Rawlins shook his head. "Stevens must have gone through hell."
Suddenly he stared down at Dan. "But how...?"
Dan smiled. He lifted up his gloved hand. In it was a small rectangular
signaling mirror.
"I reflected it right back at him."