e had taken
shape while United Nuclear had yet to assemble an atomjet. The schedules
came out perfectly, and the first single-manned fusion-propulsed
rocketplane thundered off the corporation proving grounds and glided
into Base Mojave as planned. Designed for patrol of the mesosphere, the
ships were to have gained for the West control of near-Earth space,
besides affording superior observation posts for Eastern developments
and activity of a space nature.

Training of the pilots had lasted thirty weeks and went by without a
casualty or serious damage. Testing and re-testing of the electronics
brought out no flaws. Stress and thermal analyses held up under all
conditions imposed.

The losses began after the third week of patrol. UNR-6 failed to return
to base--with no hint of the cause, with no communication from the
pilot. That one was hushed up by the base PR officer, but news of the
second reached the press. During the fifth week, UNR-2 never returned
for its glide-in, and, of course, the first loss came out at that time,
too.

General Morrison worked with the pilots and engineers steadily on the
problem with apparent good results--for a month. Then UNR-9 vanished.

Lately the orders had been for patrol over the States, and it was
presumed UNR-9 would have made an appearance somewhere had it been in
trouble. That's why the Dakota farmer's report had been investigated so
swiftly.

As of now, the situation had become one patrol a day with reluctant
pilots, Congress sending a committee to the base, a taxpayers'
injunction against the Air Force rocketplane operation, and United
Nuclear men experimenting hourly with robot-piloted atomjets at all
altitudes below four hundred miles.

Plus the syk research, naturally.

Bridget's ash tray spilled over with right-angled cigarette butts,
half-burned. Grant studied her as she read through the files intently
although her eyes rolled his way briefly on occasion. She faced him with
an unexpected snap of the head.

"Well?"

"Just looking," Grant explained.

"Then just look for a pilot's manual. It's been mentioned and I haven't
seen one around. Would you mind?"

Grant opened his mouth to inform her a pilot's manual for the atomjet
was classified secret, but caught himself before he could verbalize the
protest. He shrugged and planned more strategy for invading the
general's files.

The only things he could be grateful for so far were Bridget's beauty
and the fact t