acity.
Several round hatches covered other extensible gear and periscopes
used in the scores of multiple operations the NorCon cars were called
upon to accomplish on routine road patrols.

Beulah resembled a gigantic offspring of a military tank, sans heavy
armament. But even a small stinger was part of the patrol car
equipment. As for armament, Beulah had weapons to meet every
conceivable skirmish in the deadly battle to keep Continental Thruways
fast-moving and safe. Her own two-hundred-fifty-ton bulk could reach
speeds of close to six hundred miles an hour utilizing one or both of
her two independent propulsion systems.

At ultra-high speeds, Beulah never touched the ground--floating on an
impeller air cushion and driven forward by a pair of one hundred fifty
thousand pound thrust jets and ram jets. At intermediate high speeds,
both her air cushion and the four-foot-wide tracks on each side of the
car pushed her along at two hundred-mile-an-hour-plus speeds. Synchro
mechanisms reduced the air cushion as the speeds dropped to afford
more surface traction for the tracks. For slow speeds and heavy duty,
the tracks carried the burden.

Martin thumbed open the portside ground-level cabin door.

"I'll start the outside check," he told Clay. "You stow that garbage
of yours in the galley and start on the dispensary. I'll help you
after I finish out here."

As the younger officer entered the car and headed up the short flight
of steps to the working deck, the sergeant unclipped a check list
from the inside of the door and turned towards the stern of the big
vehicle.

* * * * *

Clay mounted to the work deck and turned back to the little galley
just aft of the cab. As compact as a spaceship kitchen--as a matter of
fact, designed almost identically from models on the Moon run--the
galley had but three feet of open counter space. Everything else,
sink, range, oven and freezer, were built-ins with pull-downs for use
as needed. He set his bags on the small counter to put away after the
pre-start check. Aft of the galley and on the same side of the
passageway were the double-decked bunks for the patrol troopers.
Across the passageway was a tiny latrine and shower. Clay tossed his
helmet on the lower bunk as he went down the passageway. At the
bulkhead to the rear, he pressed a wall panel and a thick, insulated
door slid back to admit him to the engine compartment. The service
crews had shut