d. It probably was not earth-shaking in importance. But now
there seemed to be a very great deal of other similar conversation
urgently needing to be gone through.

"I'll call you!" said Joe.

Then somebody approached to take him to the pushpot airfield. They
separated very formally under the eyes of the impersonal security
officer who would drive Joe to his destination.

It was a tedious journey through the darkness. This particular security
officer was not companionable. He was one of those conscientious people
who think that if they keep their mouths shut it will make up for their
inability to keep their eyes open. Socially he treated Joe as if he were
a highly suspect person. It could be guessed that he treated everybody
that way.

Joe went to sleep in the car.

He was only half-awake when he arrived, and he didn't bother to rouse
himself completely when he was shown to a cubbyhole in the officers'
barracks. He went to bed, making a half-conscious note to buy himself
some clothes--especially fresh linen--in the morning.

Then he knew nothing until he was awaked in the early morning by what
sounded exactly like the crack of doom.

9

It was not, however, the crack of doom. When Joe stared out the window
by the head of his cot, he saw gray-red dawn breaking over the landing
field. There were low, featureless structures silhouetted against the
sunrise. As the crimson light grew brighter, Joe realized that the
angular shapes were hangars. Improbable crane poles loomed above them.
One was in motion, handling something he could not make out, but the
noise that had awakened him was less, now. It seemed to circle overhead,
and it had an angry, droning, buzzing quality that was not natural in
any motor he had ever heard before.

Joe shivered, standing at the window. It was cold and dank in the dawn
light at this altitude, but he wanted to know what that completely
unbelievable roar had been. A crane beam by the hangars tilted down,
slowly, and then lifted as if released of a great weight. The light was
growing slowly brighter. Joe saw something on the ground. Rather, it was
not quite on the ground. It rested on something on the ground.

Suddenly that unholy uproar began again. Something moved. It ran heavily
out from the masking dark of the hangars. It picked up speed. It
acquired a reasonable velocity--forty or fifty miles an hour. As it
scuttled over the dimly lighted field, it made a din like all the b