6
A good deal of that landing remained confused in Joe's mind. While itwas going on he was much too busy to be absorbing impressions. When helanded, he was as completely exhausted as anybody wants to be. It wasonly during the next day that he even tried to sort out hisrecollections.
Then he woke up suddenly, with a muffled roaring going on all about him.He blinked his eyes open and listened. Presently he realized what thenoise was, and wondered that he hadn't realized before. It was theroaring of the motors of a multi-engined plane. He knew, withoutremembering the details at the moment, that he and the other three wereon a plane bound across the Pacific for America. He was in a bunk--andhe felt extraordinarily heavy. He tried to move, and it was an enormouseffort to move his arm. He struggled to turn over, and found strapsholding his body down.
He fumbled at them. They had readily releasable clasps, and he loosenedthem easily. After a bit he struggled to sit upright. He was horriblyheavy or horribly weak. He couldn't tell which. And each separate musclein his whole body ached. Twinges of pain accompanied every movement. Hesat up, swaying a little with the slow movements of the plane, andgradually, things came back.
The landing in the ribbon-chute. They'd come down somewhere on the westcoast of India, not too far from the sea. He remembered crashing intothe edge of a thin jungle and finding the Chief, and the two of themsearching out Haney and stumbling to open ground. After laying out asignal for air searchers, they went off into worn-out slumber while theywaited.
He remembered that there'd been a patrol of American destroyers in theArabian Sea, as everywhere under the orbit of the Platform. Their radarhad reported the destruction of one space ship and the frantic diving ofthe other, its division into two parts, and then the tiny objects, whichflew out from the smaller cabin section, which had descended as onlyejection-seat parachutes could possibly have done. Two destroyerssteamed onward underneath those drifting specks, to pick them up whenthey should come down. But the other nearby destroyers had otherbusiness in hand.
The two trailing destroyers reached Goa harbor within hours of thelanding of the four from space. A helicopter found the first three ofthem within hours after that. They were twenty miles inland and thirtysouth from Goa. Mike wasn't located until the next day. He'd been shotout of the ship's cabin earlier and higher; he was lighter, and he'dfloated farther.
But things--satisfying things--had happened in the interval. Sittingalmost dizzily on the bunk in the swiftly roaring plane while bloodbegan sluggishly to flow through his body, Joe remembered the gleeful,unofficial news passed around on the destroyers. They waited for Mike tobe brought in. But they rejoiced vengefully.
The report was quite true, but it never reached the newspapers. Nobodywould ever admit it, but the rockets aimed at the returning space shipshad been spotted by Navy radar as they went up from the Arabian Sea. Andthe ships of the radar patrol couldn't do anything about the rockets,but they could and did converge savagely upon the places from which theyhad been launched. Planes sped out to spot and bomb. Destroyers arrived.
Somewhere there was a navy department that could write off two modernsubmarines with rocket-launching equipment, last heard from west ofIndia. American naval men would profess bland ignorance of any suchevent, but there were acres of dead fish floating on the ocean wheredepth-bombs had hunted down and killed two shapes much too big to befish, which didn't float when they were killed and which would neverreport back how they'd destroyed two space ships. There'd be seagullsfeasting over that area, and there'd be vague tales about the happeningin the bazaars of Hadhramaut. But nobody would ever admit knowinganything for certain.
But Joe knew. He got to his feet, wobbling a little bit in the soaringplane. He ached everywhere. His muscles protested the strain of holdinghim erect. He held fast, summoning strength. Before his little shipbroke up he'd been shaken intolerably, and his body had weighed half aton. Where his safety-belt had held him, his body was one wide bruise.There'd been that killing acceleration when the ship split in two. Theothers--except Mike--were in as bad a case or worse. Haney and the Chiefwere like men who'd been rolled down Mount Everest in a barrel. All ofthem had slept for fourteen hours straight before they even woke up forfood. Even now, Joe didn't remember boarding this plane or getting intothe bunk. He'd probably been carried in.
Joe stood up, doggedly, until enough strength came to him to justify hissitting down again. He began to dress. It was astonishing how manyplaces about his body were sore to the touch. It was startling how heavyhis arms and legs felt, and how much of an effort even sitting erectwas. But he began to remember Mike's adventure, and managed to grinfeebly. It was the only thing worth a smile in all the things that hadhappened.
Because Mike's landing had been quite unlike the others. Joe and theChief landed near the edge of a jungle. Haney landed in a canebrake. ButMike came floating down from the sky, swaying splendidly, into theestate of a minor godling.
He was relatively unharmed by the shaking-up he'd had. The strength ofmuscles depends on their cross-section, but their weight depends ontheir volume. The strength of a man depends on the square of his size,but his weight on the cube. So Mike had taken the deceleration and themurderous vibration almost in his stride. He floated longer and landedmore gently than the rest.
Joe grinned painfully at the memory of Mike's tale. He'd come on boardthe rescue destroyer in a towering, explosive rage. When hisribbon-parachute let him down out of the sky, it deposited him gently onploughed fields not far from a small and primitive Hindu village. He'dbeen seen to descend from the heavens. He was a midget--not as othermen--and he was dressed in a space suit with glittering metal harness.
The pagan villagers greeted him with rapture.
When the searching-party found Mike, they were just in time to prevent amassacre--by Mike. Adoring natives had seized upon him, conveyed him inhigh state to a red mud temple, seemingly tried to suffocate him withevidences of their pride and joy at his arrival, and dark-skinnedmaidens were trying hopefully to win his approval of their dancing. Butthe rescue-party found him with a club in his hand and blood in his eye,setting out furiously to change the tone of his reception.
Joe still didn't know all the details, but he tried to concentrate onwhat he did know as he put his uniform on again. He didn't want to thinkhow little it meant, now. The silver space ship badge didn't mean athing, any more. There weren't any more space ships. The Platform wasn'ta ship, but a satellite. There'd never been but two ships. Both hadceased to exist.
Joe walked painfully forward in the huge, roaring plane. The motors madea constant, humming thunder in his ears. It was not easy to walk. Heheld on to handholds as he moved. But he progressed past the bunk space.And there was Mike, sitting at a table and stuffing himself with goodhonest food. There was a glass port beside him, and Joe caught a glimpseof illimitable distances filled with cloud and sky and sea.
Mike nodded. He didn't offer to help Joe walk. That wouldn't have beenpractical. He waited until Joe sank into a seat opposite.
"Good sleep?" asked Mike.
"I guess so," said Joe. He added ruefully, "It hurts to nod, and I thinkit would hurt worse to shake my head. What's the matter with me, Mike? Ididn't get banged up in the landing!"
"You got banged up before you landed," said Mike. "Worse than that, youspent better than six weeks out of gravity, where in an average day youtook less actual exercise than a guy in bed with two broken legs!"
Joe eased himself back into his chair. He felt about 600 years old.Somebody poked a head into view and withdrew it. Joe lifted his arm andregarded it.
"Weighty! I guess you're right, Mike."
"I know I'm right!" said Mike. "If you spent six weeks in bed you'dexpect to feel wobbly when you tried to walk. Up on the Platform youdidn't even use energy to stand up! We didn't realize it, but we wereliving like invalids! We'll get our strength back, but next time we'lltake measures. Huh! Take a trip to Mars in free fall, and by the time aguy got there his muscles'd be so
flabby he couldn't stand up inhalf-gravity! Something's got to be done about that, Joe!"
Joe said sombrely, "Something's got to be done about space ships beforethat comes up again!"
Somebody appeared with a tray. There was food on it. Smoking hot food.Joe looked at it and knew that his appetite, anyhow, was back to Earthnormal.
"Thanks!" he mumbled appreciatively, and attacked the food.
Mike drank his coffee. Then he said, "Joe, do you know anything aboutpowder metallurgy?"
Joe shrugged. It hurt. "Powder metallurgy? Yes, I've seen it used, at myfather's plant. They've made small precision parts with it. Why?"
"D'you know if anybody ever made a weld with it?" asked Mike.
Joe chewed. Then he said:
"I think so. Yes. At the plant they did. They had trouble getting thesurfaces properly cleaned for welding. But they managed it. Why?"
"One more question," said Mike tensely. "How much Portland cement isused to make a cubic yard of concrete?"
"I wouldn't know," admitted Joe. "Why? What's all this about?"
"Haney and the Chief. Those two big apes have been kidding me--as longas they could stay awake--for what happened to me when I landed. Thoseinfernal savages--" Mike seethed. "They got my clothes off and they hadme smeared all over with butter and forty-'leven necklaces around myneck and flowers in my hair! They thought I was some kind of heathengod! Hanuman, somebody told me. The Hindu monkey-god!" He raged. "Andthose two big apes think it's funny! Joe, I never knew I _knew_ all thewords for the cussings I gave those heathen before our fellas found me!And Haney and the Chief will drive me crazy if I can't slap 'em down!Powder metallurgy does the trick, from what you told me. That's okay,then."
He stood up and stalked toward the front of the plane. Joe rousedhimself with an effort. He turned to look about him. Haney lay slumpedin a reclining chair, on the other side of the plane cabin. His eyeswere closed. The Chief lay limply in another chair. He smiled faintly atJoe, but he didn't try to talk. He was too tired. The return to normalgravity bothered him, as it did Joe.
Joe looked out the window. In neat, geometric spacing on either side ofthe transport there were fighter jets. There was another flight aboveand farther away. Joe saw, suddenly, a peeling-off of planes from thefarther formation. They dived down through the clouds. He never knewwhat they went to look for or what they found. He went groggily back tohis bunk in a strange and embarrassing weakness.
He woke when the plane landed. He didn't know where it might be. It was,he knew, an island. He could see the wide, sun-baked white of therunways. He could see sea-birds in clouds over at the edge. The planetrundled and lurched slowly to a stop. A service-truck came growlingup, and somebody led cables from it up into the engines. Somebodywatched dials, and waved a hand.
There was silence. There was stillness. Joe heard voices and footsteps.Presently he heard the dull booming of surf.
The plane seemed to wait for a very long time. Then there was a faint,faint distant whine of jets, and a plane came from the east. It wasfirst a dot and then a vague shape, and then an infinitely graceful darkobject which swooped down and landed at the other end of the strip. Itcame taxiing up alongside the transport ship and stopped.
An officer in uniform climbed out, waved his hand, and walked over tothe transport. He climbed up the ladder and the pilot and co-pilotfollowed him. They took their places. The door closed. One by one, thejets chugged, then roared to life.
The officer talked to the pilot and co-pilot for a moment. He came downthe aisle toward Joe. Mike the midget regarded him suspiciously.
The plane stirred. The newly arrived officer said pleasantly, "The NavyDepartment's sent me out here, Kenmore, to be briefed on what you knowand to do a little briefing in turn."
The transport plane turned clumsily and began to taxi down the runway.It jolted and bumped over the tarmac, then lifted, and Joe saw that theisland was nearly all airfield. There were a few small buildings anddistance-dwarfed hangars. Beyond the field proper there was a ring ofwhite surf. That was all. The rest was ocean.
"I haven't much briefing to do," admitted Joe.
Then he looked at the briefcase the other man opened. It had sheets andsheets of paper in it--hundreds, it seemed. They were filled withquestions. He'd be called on to find answers for most of them, and toadmit he didn't know the answers to the rest. When he was through withthis questioning, every possible useful fact he knew would be on filefor future use. And now he wrily recognized that this was part paymentfor the efficiency and speed with which the Navy had trailed them ontheir landing, and for the use of a transport plane to take them back tothe United States.
"I'll try to answer what I can," he said cautiously. "But what're you tobrief me about?"
"That you're not back on Earth yet," said the officer curtly, pullingout the first sheaf of questions. "Officially you haven't even startedback. Ostensibly you're still on the Platform."
Joe blinked at him.
"If your return were known," continued the lieutenant, "the public wouldwant to make heroes of you. First space travelers, and so on. They'dwant you on television--all of you--telling about your adventures andyour return. Inevitably, what happened to your ship would leak out. Andif the public knew you'd been waylaid and shot down there'd be demandsthat the government take violent action to avenge the attack. It'd besomething like the tumult over the sinking of the _Maine_, or the_Lusitania_--or even Pearl Harbor. It's much better for your return tobe a secret for now."
Joe said wrily: "I don't think any of us want to be ridden around tohave ticker-tape dumped on us. That part's all right. I'm sure theothers will agree."
"Good! One more difficulty. We had two space ships. Now we have none.Our most likely enemies haven't only been building rockets, they've gota space fleet coming along. Intelligence just found out they're nearlyready for trial trips. They've been yelling to high heaven that we werebuilding a space fleet to conquer the world. We weren't. They were. Andit looks very much as if they may have beaten us."
The lieutenant got out the dreary mass of papers, intended to call forevery conscious or unconscious observation Joe might have made in space.It was the equivalent of the interviews extracted from fliers after abombing raid, and it was necessary, but Joe was very tired.
Wearily, he said, "Start your questions. I'll try to answer them."
They arrived in Bootstrap some forty-six hours after the crashing oftheir ship. Joe, at least, had slept nearly thirty of those hours. Sowhile he was still wobbly on his feet and would be for days to come,his disposition was vastly improved.
There was nobody waiting on the airfield by the town of Bootstrap, butas they landed a black car came smoothly out and stopped close by thetransport. Joe got down and climbed into it. Sally Holt was inside. Shetook both his hands and cried, and he was horribly embarrassed when theChief came blundering into the car after him. But the Chief growled, "Ifhe didn't kiss you, Sally, I'm going to kick his pants for him."
"He--he did," said Sally, gulping. "And I'm glad you're back, Chief. AndHaney. And Mike."
Mike grinned as he climbed in the back too. Haney crowded in after him.They filled the rear of the car entirely. It started off swiftly acrossthe field, swerving to the roadway that led to the highway out ofBootstrap to the Shed. It sped out that long white concrete ribbon, andthe desert was abruptly all around them. Far ahead, the great roundhalf-dome of the Shed looked like a cherry-pit on the horizon.
"It's good to be back!" said the Chief warmly. "I feel like I weigh aton, but it's good to be back! Mike's the only one who was happier outyonder. He figures he belongs there. I got a story to tell you,Sally----"
"Chief!" said Mike fiercely. "Shut up!"
"Won't," said the Chief amiably. "Sally, this guy Mike----"
Mike went pale. "You're too big to kill," he said bitterly, "but I'lltry it!"
The Chief grunted at him. "Quit being modest. Sally----"
Mike flung himself at the Chief, literally snarlin
g. His small fist hitthe Chief's face--and Mike was small but he was not puny. The "crack" ofthe impact was loud in the car. Haney grabbed. There was a moment'sfrenzied struggling. Then Mike was helplessly wrapped in Haney's arms,incoherent with fury and shame.
"Crazy fool!" grunted the Chief, feeling his jaw. "What's the matterwith you? Don't you feel good?"
He was angry, but he was more concerned. Mike was white and raging.
"You tell that," he panted shrilly, "and so help me----"
"What's got into you?" demanded Haney anxiously. "I'd be bragging, Iwould, if I'd got a brainstorm like you did! That guy Sanford wouldawiped us all out----"
The Chief said angrily, between unease and puzzlement:
"I never knew you to go off your nut like this before! What's got intoyou, anyway?"
Mike gulped suddenly. Haney still held him firmly, but both Haney andthe Chief were looking at him with worried eyes. And Mike saiddesperately: "You were going to tell Sally----"
The Chief snorted.
"Huh! You fool little runt! No! I was going to tell her about youopening up that airlock when Sanford locked us out! Sure I kidded youabout what you're talking about! Sure! I'm going to do it again! Butthat's amongst us! I don't tell that outside!"
Haney made an inarticulate exclamation. He understood, and he wasrelieved. But he looked disgusted. He released Mike abruptly, rumblingto himself. He stared out the window. And Mike stood upright, an absurdsmall figure. His face worked a little.
"Okay," said Mike, with a little difficulty. "I was dumb. Only, Chief,you owe me a sock on the jaw when you feel like it. I'll take it."
He swallowed. Sally was watching wide-eyed.
"Sally," said Mike bitterly, "I'm a bigger fool than I look. I thoughtthe Chief was going to tell you what happened when I landed. I--Ifloated down in a village over there in India, and those crazy savages'dnever seen a parachute, and they began to yell and make gestures, andfirst thing I knew they had a sort of litter and were piling me in it,and throwing flowers all over me, and there was a procession----"
Sally listened blankly. Mike told the tale of his shame with the veryquintessence of bitter resentment. When he got to his installation in ared-painted mud temple, and the reverent and forcible removal of hisclothes so he could be greased with butter, Sally's lips began totwitch. At the picture of Mike in a red loincloth, squirming furiouslywhile brown-skinned admirers zestfully sang his praises, howling hisrage while they celebrated some sort of pious festival in honor of hisarrival, Sally broke down and laughed helplessly.
Mike stared at her, aghast. He felt that he'd hated the Chief when hethought the Chief was going to tell the tale on him as a joke. He'd toldit on himself as a penance, in the place of the blow he'd given theChief and which the Chief wouldn't return. To Mike it was still tragedy.It was still an outrage to his dignity. But Sally was laughing. Sherocked back and forth next to Joe, helpless with mirth.
"Oh, Mike!" she gasped. "It's beautiful! They must have been saying suchlovely, respectful things, while you were calling them names and wantingto kill them! They'd have been bragging to each other about how youwere--visiting them because they'd been such good people, and--this wasthe reward of well-spent lives, and you--you----"
She leaned against Joe and shook. The car went on. The Chief chuckled.Haney grinned. Joe watched Mike as this new aspect of his disgrace gotinto his consciousness. It hadn't occurred to Mike, before, that anybodybut himself had been ridiculous. It hadn't occurred to him, until helost his temper, that Haney and the Chief would ride him mercilesslyamong themselves, but would not dream of letting anybody outside thegang do so.
Presently Mike managed to grin a little. It was a twisty grin, and notaltogether mirthful.
"Yeah," he said wrily. "I see it. They were crazy too. I should've hadmore sense than to get mad." Then his grin grew a trifle twistier. "Ididn't tell you that the thing that made me maddest was when they wantedto put earrings on me. I grabbed a club then and--uh--persuaded them Ididn't like the idea."
Sally chortled. The picture of the small, truculent Mike in frenziedrevolt with a club against the idea of being decked with jewelry....Mike turned to the two big men and shoved at them imperiously.
"Move over!" he growled. "If you two big lummoxes had dropped in onthose crazy goofs instead of me, they'd've thought you were elephantsand set you to work hauling logs!"
He squirmed to a seat between them. He still looked ashamed, but it wasshame of a different sort. Now he looked as if he wished he hadn'tmistrusted his friends for even a moment. And he included Sally.
"Anyhow," he said suddenly in a different tone, "maybe it did do somegood for me to get all worked up! I got kind of frantic. I figuredsomebody'd made a fool of me, and I was going to put something over onyou."
"Mike!" said Sally reproachfully.
"Not like you think, Sally," said Mike, grinning a little. "I made up mymind to beat these lummoxes at their own game. I asked Joe about mybrainstorm in the plane. He didn't know what I was driving at, but hesaid what I hoped was so. So I'm telling you--and," he added fiercely,"if it's any good everybody gets credit for it, because all of usfour--even two big apes who try kidding--are responsible for it!"
He glared at them. Joe asked. "What is it, Mike?"
"I think," said Mike, "I think I've got a trick to make space shipsquicker than anybody ever dreamed of. Joe says you can make a weld withpowder metallurgy. And I think we can use that trick to make one-pieceships--lighter and stronger and tighter--and fast enough to make yourhead swim! And you guys are in on it!"
The black car braked by the entrance to the Security offices outside theShed. It looked completely deserted. There was only a skeleton forcehere since the Platform had been launched three months before. There wasalmost nobody to be seen, but Mike pressed his lips pugnaciouslytogether as they got out of the car and went inside.
The four of them, with Sally, went along the empty corridors to themajor's office. He was waiting for them. He shook hands all around. Butit was not possible for Major Holt to give an impression of cordiality.
"I'm very glad to see all of you back," he said curtly. "It didn't looklike you'd make it. Joe, you will be able to reach your father bylong-distance telephone as soon as you finish here. I--ah--thought itwould not be indiscreet to tell him you had landed safely, though I didask him to keep the fact to himself."
"Thank you, sir," said Joe.
"You answered most of the questions you needed to answer on the plane,"added the major, grimly, "and now you may want to ask some. You knowthere is no ship for you. You know that the enemies of the Platformcopied our rocket fuel. You know they've made rockets with it. You'vemet them! And Intelligence says they're building a fleet of spaceships--not for space exploration, but simply to smash the Platform andget set for an ultimatum to the United States to backwater or bebombarded from space."
Mike said crisply: "How long before they can do it?"
Major Holt turned uncordial eyes upon him. "It's anybody's guess. Why?"
"We've been working something out," said Mike, firmly but in partuntruthfully. He stood sturdily before the major's desk, which he barelytopped. "The four of us have been working it out. Joe says they've donepowder metallurgy welds, back at his father's plant. Joe and Haney andthe Chief and me, we've been working out an idea."
Major Holt waited. His hands moved nervously on his desk. Joe looked atMike. Haney and the Chief regarded him warily. The Chief cocked his headon one side.
"It'll take a minute to get it across," said Mike. "You have to think ofconcrete first. When you want to make a cubic yard of concrete, you takea cubic yard of gravel. Then you add some sand--just enough to fill inthe cracks between the gravel. Then you put in some cement. It goes inthe cracks between the grains of sand. A little bit of cement makes alot of concrete. See?"
Major Holt frowned. But he knew these four. "I see, but I don'tunderstand."
"You can weld metals together with powder-metallurgy powder at less
thanred heat. You can take steel filings for sand and steel turnings forgravel and powdered steel for cement--"
Joe jolted erect. He looked startledly at Haney and the Chief. AndHaney's mouth was dropping open. A great, dreamy light seemed to bebursting upon him. The Chief regarded Mike with very bright eyes. AndMike sturdily, forcefully, coldly, made a sort of speech in his smalland brittle voice.
Things could be made of solid steel, he said sharply, without rolling ormilling or die-casting the metal, and without riveting or arc-weldingthe parts together. The trick was powder metallurgy. Very finelypowdered metal, packed tightly and heated to a relatively lowtemperature--"sintered" is the word--becomes a solid mass. Even alloyscan be made by mixing powdered metals. The process had been used onlyfor small objects, but--there was the analogy to concrete. A very littlepowder could weld much metal, in the form of turnings and smaller bits.And the result would be solid steel!
Then Mike grew impassioned. There was a wooden mockup of a space ship inthe Shed, he said. It was an absolutely accurate replica, in wood, ofthe ships that had been destroyed. But one could take castings of it,and use them for molds, and fill them with powder and filings andturnings, and heat them not even red-hot and there would be steel hullsin one piece. Solid steel hulls! Needing no riveting nor anythingelse--and one could do it fast! While the first hull was fitting out asecond could be molded----
The Chief roared: "You fool little runt!" he bellowed. "Tryin' to giveus credit for that! You got more sense than any of us! You worked thatout in your own head----"
Haney rubbed his hands together. He said softly, "I like that! I do likethat!"
Major Holt turned his eyes to Joe. "What's your opinion?"
"I think it's the sort of thing, sir, that a professional engineer wouldsay was a good idea but not practical. He'd mean it would be a lot oftrouble to get working. But I'd like to ask my father. They have donepowder welding at the plant back home, sir."
Major Holt nodded. "Call your father. If it looks promising, I'll pullwhat wires I can."
Joe went out, with the others. Mike was sweating. All unconsciously, hetwisted his hands one within the other. He had had many humiliationsbecause he was small, but lately he had humiliated himself by notbelieving in his friends. Now he needed desperately to do something thatwould reflect credit on them as well as himself.
Joe made the phone call. As he closed the door of the booth, he heardthe Chief kidding Mike blandly.
"Hey, Einstein," said the Chief. "How about putting that brain of yoursto work on a faster-than-light drive?"
But then he began to struggle with the long distance operator. It tookminutes to get the plant, and then it took time to get to the point,because his father insisted on asking anxiously how he was and if he washurt in any way. Personal stuff. But Joe finally managed to explain thatthis call dealt with the desperate need to do something about a spacefleet.
His father said grimly, "Yes. The situation doesn't look too good rightnow, Joe."
"Try this on for size, sir," said Joe. He outlined Mike's scheme. Hisfather interrupted only to ask crisp questions about the mockup of thetender, already in existence though made of wood. Then he said, "Go on,son!"
Joe finished. He heard his father speaking to someone away from thephone. Questions and answers, and then orders. His father spoke to himdirect.
"It looks promising, Joe," said his father. "Right here at the plantwe've got the gang that can do it if anybody can. I'm getting a planeand coming out there, fast! Get Major Holt to clear things for me. Thisis no time for red tape! If he has trouble, I'll pull some wiresmyself!"
"Then I can tell Mike it's good stuff?"
"It's not good stuff," said his father. "There are about forty-seventhings wrong with it at first glance, but I know how to take care of oneor two, and we'll lick the rest. You tell your friend Mike I want toshake him by the hand. I hope to do it tonight!"
He hung up, and Joe went out of the phone booth. Mike looked at himwith yearning eyes. Joe lied a little, because Mike rated it.
"My father's on the way here to help make it work," he told Mike. Thenhe added untruthfully: "He said he thought he knew all the big men inhis line, and where've you been that he hasn't heard of you?"
He turned away as the Chief whooped with glee. He hurried back to MajorHolt as the Chief and Haney began zestfully to manhandle Mike incelebration of his genius.
The major held up his hand as Joe entered. He was using the desk phone.Joe waited. When he hung up, Joe reported. The major seemed unsurprised.
"Yes, I had Washington on the wire," he said detachedly. "I talked to apersonal friend who's a three-star general. There will be action startedat the Pentagon. When you came in I was arranging with the largestproducers of powder-metallurgy products in the country to send theirbest men here by plane. They will start at once. Now I have to get intouch with some other people."
Joe gaped at him. The major moved impatiently, waiting for Joe to leave.Joe gulped. "Excuse me, sir, but--my father didn't say it was certain.He just thinks it can be made to work. He's not sure."
"I didn't even wait for that, something has to turn up to take care ofthis situation!" said the Major with asperity. "It has to! Thisparticular scheme may not work, but if it doesn't, something will comeout of the work on it! You should look at a twenty-five cent pieceoccasionally, Joe!"
He moved impatiently, and Joe went out. Sally was smiling in the outeroffice. There were whoopings in the corridor beyond. The Chief and Haneywere celebrating Mike's brainstorm with salutary indignity, because ifthey didn't make a joke of it he might cry with joy.
"Things look better?"
"They do," said Joe. "If it only works...."
Then he hunted in his pocket. He found a quarter and examined itcuriously. On one side he found nothing the major could have referredto. On the other side, though, just by George Washington's chin----
He put the quarter away and took Sally's arm.
"It'll be all right," he said slowly.
But there were times when it seemed in doubt. Joe's father arrived byplane at sunset of that same day, and he and three men from the KenmorePrecision Tool Company instantly closeted themselves with Mike in MajorHolt's quarters. The powder metallurgy men turned up an hour later, anda three-star general from Washington. They joined the highly technicaldiscussion.
Joe waited around outside, feeling left out of things. He sat on theporch with Sally while the moon rose over the desert and stars shonedown. Inside, matters of high importance were being battled over withthe informality and heat with which practical men get things settled.But Joe wasn't in on it. He said annoyedly, "You'd think my father'dhave something to say to me, in all this mess! After all, I havebeen--well, I have been places! But all he said was, 'How are you, Son?Where's this Mike you talked about?'"
Sally said calmly, "I know just how you feel. You've made me feel thatway." She looked up at the moon. "I thought about you all the time youwere gone, and I--prayed for you, Joe. And now you're back and not evenbusy! But you don't---- It would be nice for you to think about me for awhile!"
"I am thinking about you!" said Joe indignantly.
"Now what," said Sally interestedly, "in the world could you be thinkingabout me?"
He wanted to scowl at her. But he grinned instead.
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