bandwagon and
secure gliders for himself."

Joe saw light.

"Been caught short," Cogswell rapped. "Short of gliders. Short of even
one glider. And within a few weeks I'm committed to a divisional size
fracas." He pushed back his chair, angrily. "General McCord is in
command of the Carbonaceous Fuel forces. Met him before, and always
brought up victory only by the skin of my teeth. But this time he has
two gliders. I have none."

"But, sir, surely you can either buy or rent several craft on the
market."

"Confound it! It's not the machines that are unavailable, but the
trained pilots to operate them. The sport hasn't been popular in half
a century. Not overly so, even then."

"But training a pilot--"

"Training a pilot, nonsense!" the marshal was shaking his baton at him
again, in indignation. "A _pilot_ won't do. He must also be a trained
reconnaissance man. Must be able to follow terrain from the air.
Identify military forces both in nature and number. I needn't tell you
this, major. You above all know the problem."

It hadn't occurred to Joe, but the other was obviously right. There
couldn't be more than a few dozen men in Category Military who could
hold down both the job of pilot and reconnaissance officer. In another
six months, the situation would have changed. Officers would quickly
be trained. But now? As Cogswell said, he was caught short.

Joe came to his feet. "Sir, I'll have to consider the commission.
Frankly, my plans were otherwise."

Cogswell started at him grimly. "Mauser, you've always been one of the
best. An old pro, in every sense of the word. However, there have been
some rumors going around about your ambitions."

Joe said stiffly, "Sir, my ambitions are my own business, whatever
these rumors."

"Didn't say I believed them, major. We've been together too often when
the situation has pickled for me to judge you without more evidence
than gossip. What I was leading up to, is this. There's nothing wrong
with ambition. If you see me through in this, I'll do what I can
toward pushing your promotion."

Joe came to the salute again. "Thank you, sir. I'll consider the
commission and let you know by tomorrow."

Cogswell flicked the baton, in his nonchalant answer to salute. "That
will be all, then, major."

VII

Freddy Soligen wasn't at home when Joe Mauser called. The Category
Military officer was met, instead, by young Sam Soligen, clothed this
day in the robes of a novitiate of