to a muffled roar.

Martin fingered a press-panel on the right arm of his seat.

"Car 56 to Philly Control," Ben called.

The speakers mounted around the cab came to life. "Go ahead Five Six."

"Five Six fired up and ready to roll," Martin said.

"Affirmative Five Six," came the reply, "You're clear to roll. Philly
Check estimates white density 300; green, 840; blue 400; yellow, 75."

Both troopers made mental note of the traffic densities in their first
one-hundred-mile patrol segment; an estimated three hundred vehicles
for each ten miles of thruway in the white or fifty to one hundred
miles an hour low lane; eight hundred forty vehicles in the one
hundred to one hundred fifty miles an hour green, and so on. More than
sixteen thousand westbound vehicles on the thruway in the first one
hundred miles; nearly five thousand of them traveling at speeds
between one hundred fifty and three hundred miles an hour.

Over the always-hot intercom throughout the big car Ben called out.
"All set, Kelly?"

"I'm making coffee," Kelly answered from the galley. "Let 'er roll."

Martin started to kick off the brakes, then stopped. "Ooops," he
exclaimed, "almost forgot." His finger touched another button and a
blaring horn reverberated through the vehicle.

In the galley, Kelly hurled herself into a corner. Her body activated
a pressure plant and a pair of mummy-like plastifoam plates slid
curvingly out the wall and locked her in a soft cocoon. A dozen
similar safety clamps were located throughout the car at every working
and relaxation station.

In the same instance, both Ben and Clay touched another plate on their
control seats. From kiosk-type columns behind each seat, pairs of
body-molded crash pads snapped into place to encase both troopers in
their seats, their bodies cushioned and locked into place. Only their
fingers were loose beneath the spongy substance to work arm controls.
The half-molds included headforms with a padded band that locked
across their foreheads to hold their heads rigidly against the backs
of their reinforced seats. The instant all three crew members were
locked into their safety gear, the bull horn ceased.

"All tight," Ben called out as he wiggled and tried to free himself
from the cocoon. Kelly and Clay tested their harnesses.

Satisfied that the safety cocoons were operating properly, Ben
released them and the molds slid back into their recesses. The cocoons
were triggered automatically in a