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Updated: May 3, 2025
This was two hours from the field from which it had taken off with the pilot gyro cases as its last item of collected cargo. Joe remembered how grimly the two crew members had prevented anybody from even approaching it on the ground, except those who actually loaded the cases, and how one of the two had watched them every second. Joe fidgeted. He didn't quite know how to take the co-pilot's talk.
It's plenty different on this job! We can't even talk to a girl without security clearance for an interview beforehand, and we can't speak to strange men or go out alone after dark ." The pilot grunted. The co-pilot's tone changed. "Not quite that bad," he admitted, "but it's bad! It's really bad! We lost three planes last week. I guess you'd call it in action against saboteurs.
The co-pilot lighted a cigarette. Then he drew a paper cup of coffee and handed it to the pilot. The pilot seemed negligently to contemplate some dozens of dials, all of which were duly duplicated on the right-hand, co-pilot's side. The co-pilot glanced at Joe. "Coffee?" "Thanks," said Joe. He took the paper cup. The co-pilot said: "Everything okay with you?" "I'm all right," said Joe.
There wasn't anything underneath but clouds, and there wasn't anything overhead but sky. Joe Kenmore looked out the plane window past the co-pilot's shoulder. He stared ahead to where the sky and cloud bank joined it was many miles away and tried to picture the job before him. Back in the cargo space of the plane there were four big crates.
Only Alan and his father remained, with the little two-man copter and the tall gleaming Valhalla behind them. "Let's go," the Captain said. They climbed in, Alan strapping himself down in the co-pilot's chair and his father back of the controls. "I never see much of you these days," the Captain said after they were aloft. "Running the Valhalla seems to take twenty-four hours a day."
No co-pilot's necessary on a surface-to-orbit hop, and you'll get a good view from there." He turned to his bodyguard, who was also the lander's pilot. "Nevan, would you help Ms. Losinj strap in, please?" "Aye, sir." Nevan, now in Marine black, bent over the young Irschchan. "Here . . . this goes across your lap, and these two over your shoulders, all to the same buckle.
There was a change in the sound of the motors. Joe followed the co-pilot's eyes. The jet fighter was coming up astern, dive brakes extended to reduce its speed. It overhauled the transport very slowly. And then the transport's pilot touched one of the separate prop-controls gently, and again, and again. Joe, looking at the jet, saw it through the whirling blades.
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