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He had a great deal to report, and someone, flying a lone Nieuport, was going to have a great deal of explaining to do. When McGee swooped low over his own hangar, preparatory to a landing, he was surprised to see Siddons' Nieuport resting on the tarmac. So he was back so soon! Larkin was the first to greet McGee when he crawled from his plane. "Where've you been?" he demanded.
Maril followed him. He said detachedly, "I've been working on a problem outside of the food one. It isn't the time to talk about it right now, but I think I've solved it." Maril turned her head, listening. There were footsteps on the tarmac outside the ship. Both doors of the airlock were open. Four men came in.
The transport plane turned clumsily and began to taxi down the runway. It jolted and bumped over the tarmac, then lifted, and Joe saw that the island was nearly all airfield. There were a few small buildings and distance-dwarfed hangars. Beyond the field proper there was a ring of white surf. That was all. The rest was ocean. "I haven't much briefing to do," admitted Joe.
In the quiet country town obvious changes had taken place during the eight years of Stella's absence. They were not changes of importance, however, and one sentence can symbolize them all there was now tarmac upon its roads. But in the cluster of houses a mile away at the end of the deep lane the case was different. Mr. Harold Hazlewood had come to Little Beeding.
She wouldn't "make the attempt...." Her words trailed through my mind, conjuring up some adventure, some act of bravery and daring. The road was the high road, the channel of tarmac and pavements that she probably walked along every day; and now it was the selfsame high road, the same flagstones, hedges, railings, but with the cloak of night upon them.
Many men in sag-suits had still no idea that anything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Some hung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waiting their turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of their suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic and happy, into a Wealdian ship again.
From aloft came the momentary stutter of two machine guns. Ah! McGee testing and warming his guns as he climbed. Oh, the fool! The precious, daring fool! Larkin sat down on the tarmac, ker plunk! Let 'em raid. What mattered it? He rather hoped one of them would be accurate enough to plant a bomb on the top of Cowan's head.
He drew his finger across his throat, and nodded, and went cheerfully out the crew's landing-door in the very base of the ship. He went across the tarmac and out between two of the gigantic steel arches of the grid. He hired a ground vehicle. "Where?" asked the driver. "Hm-m-m," said Hoddan. "There's a firm of lawyers.... I can't remember the name " "There's millions of 'em," said the driver.
This was restricted government property, but of course spaceships were hardly prime military secrets any longer. Repairs in the fence had not been made instantaneously, and the wreckage was not guarded. Collins swerved the wheel and drove the old wagon across the waffle-plate obstruction, onto the smooth tarmac beyond.
Maril followed him. He said detachedly; "I've been working on a problem outside of the food one. It isn't the time to talk about it right now, but I think I've solved it." Maril turned her head, listening. There were footsteps on the tarmac outside the ship. Both doors of the airlock were open. Four men came in.
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