ingly pink line dipped down toward me.

Behind me, the sound of a struggle. Alice snarling and Pop giving a
grunt.

Then all at once a scream from Alice, a big whoosh of wind, a flash way
ahead (where I'd aimed), a spatter of hot metal inside the cabin, a
blinding spot in the middle of the World Screen, a searing beam inches
from my neck, an electric shock that lifted me from my seat and ripped
at my consciousness!

* * * * *

When I came to (if I really ever was out--seconds later, at most) there
were no more pink lines. The haze was just its disgustingly tawny
evening self with black spots that were only after-images. The cabin
stunk of ozone, but wind funneling through a hole in the one-time World
Screen was blowing it out fast enough--Savannah had gotten in one lick,
all right. And we were falling, the plane was swinging down like a
crippled bird--I could feel it and there was no use kidding myself.

But staring at the control panel wouldn't keep us from crashing if that
was in the cards. I looked around and there were Pop and Alice glaring
at each other across the closing door. He looked mean. She looked
agonized and was pressing her burnt hand into her side with her elbow as
if he'd stamped on the hand, maybe. I didn't see any blood though. I
didn't see the box and 'chute either, though I did see Alice's bag of
groceries. I guessed Pop had made the drop.

Now, it occurred to me, was a bully time for Voice Two to melt the
plane--if he hadn't already tried. My first thought had been that the
spatter of hot metal had come from the Savannah craft spitting us, but
there was no way to be sure.

I looked around at the viewport in time to see rocks and stunted trees
jump out of the haze. _Good old Ray_, I thought, _always in at the
death_. But just then the plane took a sickening bounce, as if its
antigravity had only started to operate within yards of the ground.
Another lurching fall and another bounce, less violent. A couple of
repetitions of that, each one a little gentler, and then we were sort of
bumping along on an even keel with the rocks and such sliding past fast
about a hundred feet below, I judged. We'd been spoiled for altitude
work, it seemed, but we could still cripple along in some sort of
low-power repulsion field.

I looked at the North America screen and the buttons, wondering if I
should start us back west again or leave us set on Atla-Hi and see what
the hell h