"Well, it was here. Some dedicated fan sneaked it aboard."

"Damn. We'd better find it before it gets buried."

They climbed the scaffold. Sherrine asked, "How do you make love in free fall?"

Alex laughed. "Superbly. It takes a tether."

They eeled into the cabin. "Look inside things," Sherrine said.

"Yeah. Sherrine, this could be your last chance to make love in a gravity field."

"Mmm."

"We could even find a, what did we call those things, they were soft and you spread a sheet over them--" You're kidding, right? Bed."

"Bed."

Hudson laid out a map of the Dryden Research Center portion of Edwards Air Force Base and pointed to a building. "In there. Room G-44. There are three security containers in the room, and the IMU is in the lowest drawer of the middle one."

"And you're sure?" Bob Needleton asked.

"Yes, of course I'm sure. Actually, there are five of the damned things, but that's where they keep one of them, the one that's been tested most recently."

"And when was that?" Sherrine asked.

"About a year--no, more like two years. Twenty months ago. Major Beeson brought it over and we ran tests on the whole Phoenix electronics system. Worked like a charm, too. Then they took the IMU back, packed it in foam, and put it in the safe."

"And it hasn't been moved since?" C.C. Miller asked.

"Not that I know of," Hudson said. "And why would it? Its where it stayed between tests last time."

"When's the next test?" Needleton asked.

"Maybe never. Beeson was transferred. There's a civilian named Feeley in charge of technology studies at Dryden now."

"Feeley?"

"Yeah, the troops call him Touchy Feeley, of course. He's a Green."

"And brain dead, I suppose," Miller said.

"He's not brain dead, he's soul dead. Everything's kept in order, though, all the lab tools put away every day, all the reports filed on time."

"Hell of a way to run a lab," Needleton said. "But I suppose it's as well. Makes it likely your IMU will be right where it belongs." He studied the map. "Harry, it looks like we can go in from the hydrogen valve compound. Get inside there, and then open a new hole into the main base. Fang, you've been watching the base, did you ever see patrols at night?"

"Nothing," Fang said. "Guards at the gates, some people in the operations building, some night crew at the flight line. Nothing else."

"Not much to guard anymore," Hudson said. "One time, they had the hottest airplanes and pilots in the world here. Spaceships, too. Now--"

"Yeah," Needleton said. "OK, Harry, I guess we're set. Let's do it."

They laid the bike on its side next to a mesquite bush and walked the rest of the way to the fence. The twisties holding the fence together hadn't been disturbed in the three days since they'd broken in to start the flow of hydrogen. Thunder Ridge was fifteen miles away, and the sounds of the compressor and turbo expander were lost in the howl of the desert wind.

"Damn moon," Harry muttered. "I like moonlight, but there's too damn much of it."

Nearly full, Bob Needleton thought.

By God! Ten hours! Dawn tomorrow, and I'm up and out of here, off this Earth. If my heart doesn't pound so damn hard it wakes up the guards… Sherrine would be going, too, but not the way he'd thought. Oh, well. I get the best consolation prize there is. Free trip, too. Four seats, and one's mine!

The Hydrogen Valve building had its own fence, but there was a gate from that area into the main Dryden compound. Harry inspected the gate and its lock, then whispered, "Damn good lock. It might be easier to cut a hole in the fence, but that'll be more noticeable when there's light. What should I do?"

"Whatever's quickest. By the time there's light everyone in the country will know." Bob took out his wire cutters and started in.

Room G-44 was in a temporary building constructed in the glory days of the 1950s. Like the engineering room on Thunder Ridge, it had space for far more desks and drawing boards than it held. Even so, many of the desks seemed unused.

A bank of three security cabinets stood against one wall. Harry went over and rubbed his hands in anticipation. "The middle one," he said. He ostentatiously took out a nail file and began to rub it over his fingertips. "No sandpaper--"

"Harry, damn it, get on with it," Needleton whispered. "Right." Harry opened the tool kit and took out a drill, pliers, crowbar. "Well--here goes--but you know, just in case--"

"What?"

Harry pulled on the drawer. It opened.

"Like I said, just in case. And there's your gizmo, I think." He lifted' out a plastic box and set it on the desk. "Let's see--"

"Harry, be careful, don't drop it--"

"Not me. Yep." He took out a smaller box that had been nested in foam packing. "And here we are. One IMU--"

The room lights came on.

"Harry, damn you--" Needleton shouted.

"Me?"

"Hello-o!"

They turned. An Air Force captain in combat fatigues stood at the door. The captain's submachine gun didn't quite point at either Harry or Needleton.

"Oh, shit," Harry said.

"Now what?" Needleton said. He eyed the distance to the gun. There were two desks in the way. He glanced at Harry, who nodded slightly.

"Death will not release you," the captain intoned. The submachine gun was pointing straight at Harry's navel.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A Fire in the Sky

Jenny Trout stared down the road. "Where the hell are they?"

"Maybe the lock was tougher than Harry thought," Sherrine said.

"It wouldn't be the lock," Jenny said. "Harry's good with locks. I'm sure glad Bob went along. Where the hell are they?"

"There's something coming." A light, a long way away. Fantastic, how far you could see out here.

"Two lights! It's a car!" Jenny shouted. "Get Hudson."

"Jenny, for God's sake put that gun away!" Sherrine said. "Gary!"

C.C. Miller came running out of the office. "Jenny, for God's sake, shooting people isn't the answer to everything!"

"Cissy, sometimes it is!"

"Not this time," Gary Hudson said. "Look, if you start a firefight there'll be a hundred Air Police up here long before any possible launch window." He stared moodily at the approaching headlights. "Whatever we do, it has to be done quietly."

"Oh. Okay." Jenny put the gun back in her boot.

Miller edged closer to Fang and spoke in a low urgent voice. "Stay with her, just in case."

"We can't just give up now!"

"No, and we won't," Miller said. "But there're more ways to futter a cat than just to stuff its head in a sea boot."

"Eh?"

"Ted Sturgeon's other law. Just go wait with Jenny."

The car was a small gray sedan, totally inconspicuous if you didn't notice that it had six antennas. It pulled up in the pool of light in front of the office, and Bob Needleton got out on the driver's side. He was moving slowly, carefully. Harry got out of the passenger's side, moving e same way, as if they were underwater.

"What the hell is going on?" Gary Hudson demanded. Somebody slid out of the back seat, lithe and quick like a striking shark.

Bob Needleton said, carefully, "Gary Hudson, this is Captain, Lee Arteria, U.S.A.F. Office of Special Investigations."

"Oh, shit--"

"Death will not release you." Captain Arteria's voice carried even over the roar of the let engine. Headlights glowed on the intruder's blue uniform and compact machine gun and sharp white smile. The Air Police captain moved like a man in free fall, Alex thought. Like Steve Mews. Strong and dangerous.