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diff --git a/27696-h/27696-h.htm b/27696-h/27696-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3be3350 --- /dev/null +++ b/27696-h/27696-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2219 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Fine Fix, by R. C. Noll + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.hd1 {text-align: center;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .bk1 {margin: 1em 10%;} + .figcenter {margin: 1em auto; width: 450px;} + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 1em; padding: 0; width: 189px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + .hd1 {margin: 2em auto;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Fine Fix, by R. C. Noll + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Fine Fix + +Author: R. C. Noll + +Illustrator: H. R. van Dongen + +Release Date: January 3, 2009 [EBook #27696] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FINE FIX *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><big>A FINE FIX</big></h1> + +<h2>BY R. C. NOLL</h2> + +<div class="bk1"><p><i><big><b>Generally speaking, human +beings are fine buck-passers—but +there's one circumstance +under which they refuse to +pass on responsibility. If the +other fellow says "Your method +won't solve the problem!"—then +they get mad!</b></big></i></p></div> + +<div class="hd1"><small><b>Illustrated by van Dongen</b></small></div> + +<div class="figright"><img src="images/001.png" width="189" height="550" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<p>The leader climbed sharply in a +bank to the left, and the two others +followed close behind. Their jet +streams cut off at very near the same +time. Before their speed slowed to +stalling, the rotors unfolded from +the canopy hump and beat the air +viciously, the steam wisping back in +brief fingers.</p> + +<p>Under power again, they dipped +playfully in tightening circles toward +the plot-mottled earth. The +fields expanded beneath them, and +the leader brought up and hovered +over a farm road whose dust already +stirred in the disturbed air.</p> + +<p>They settled as one in the rolling +dust clouds from which emerged a +coveralled figure who had driven the +battered pickup truck to meet them.</p> + +<p>"Y'sure got back in a rush," he +addressed the major, who was just +jumping from the plastiglas cabin.</p> + +<p>The major nodded and put his +attention on seeing that the general +descended safely. He then indicated +the farmer.</p> + +<p>"He's the one," the major said.</p> + +<p>The general grunted socially.</p> + +<p>Taking the opening, the farmer +said, "Out there in the wheat, general." +His tone carried eager importance. +"My kid saw the light +come down this morning feedin' the +chickens. I felt the ground jump, +too. Called the sheriff, first off."</p> + +<p>"All right, you were a hero," said +the general shortly. "Now, Grant, +will you take me to it? I can't mess +around here all day."</p> + +<p>The party of six men, two of +them technicians, waded into the +field from the road. The farmer remained +to watch, frowning.</p> + +<p>When they had progressed well +into the wheat, he shouted after them +ruefully, "And watch where you're +steppin', too!"</p> + +<p>The group paused on the rim of +newly gouged earth, clods and dirt +that had splashed from the center +of the crater. It was nearly four feet +deep. The man the major had left +on guard had uncovered more of the +blackened object, which lay three-quarters +exposed and showed a +warped but cylindrical shape.</p> + +<p>"Let's have a counter on it," the +general ordered.</p> + +<p>A technician slid into the crater +and swept the metal with his instrument. +The needle swung far over +and stuck.</p> + +<p>To the other technician the general +said, "Get a chunk for verification +of the alloy." He kicked a +small avalanche of dirt down the +crater side and turned back to the +road, adding, "Although I don't +know why the formality. Even a +cadet could see that's an atomjet +reactor, beat up as it is."</p> + +<p>The major absorbed the jibe without +comeback. An hour ago he had +informed the general of his indecision +over the object's identity, +though he had suspected it to be +the reactor.</p> + +<p>"We may find more when we get +it examined in the shop," the general +mused, swishing by the wheat. +"But at least we know they do come +down some place, and it wasn't flash +fusion. On this one, anyway."</p> + +<p>"What do you think about instituting +a search of this vicinity for +other parts, general?"</p> + +<p>The officer growled negatively. +"Obviously, the reactor was the only +part not vaporized in the fall—because +of its construction."</p> + +<p>"That's assuming the ship entered +the atmosphere at operational velocity +and not less than free fall," the +major qualified.</p> + +<p>"How can anyone assume free +fall? Way outside probability."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, but there are degrees +of velocity involved. He could have +used reverse thrust and entered at +a relatively slow speed."</p> + +<p>"All right, all right—let's say +possible, then. Pull off your search +if you want to. I'm in this thing +so deep now, I'll try anything to get +going. I've got Congress ready to +investigate, and some senator yesterday +put pressure on to cancel the +United Nuclear contract. I'll try anything +at this point, Grant!"</p> + +<p>The big man's voice had risen +to anger, but Major Grant Reis had +not missed the vocal breaking in +the last syllables.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"I'm First Lieutenant Ashley and +I've an appointment to see General +Morrison."</p> + +<p>The adjutant said, "Sorry, but +you'll have to wait a little longer. +The general's unexpectedly busy."</p> + +<p>"My appointment was over an +hour ago."</p> + +<p>"Another half-hour and you can +go in."</p> + +<p>"Another half-hour and I'll go."</p> + +<p>"It's your bar."</p> + +<p>The lieutenant plopped back into +a chair just as Grant strode swiftly +past the adjutant's desk from the +private office.</p> + +<p>"Major," the adjutant asked, +"how long is the general going to +be tied up? He won't let me in the +conference and the lieutenant here +is supposed to see him."</p> + +<p>Grant paused at the opposite door +and pointing two thumb-and-forefinger +guns at his head exploded +them. The adjutant groaned understandingly. +Even the first lieutenant +caught on.</p> + +<p>"Major, it's pretty important," the +waiting officer said, standing again. +Grant shifted his attention.</p> + +<p>"Look, lieutenant—" Grant bottled +the sarcasm behind his suddenly +lax mouth. He saw a first lieutenant's +uniform, but it bulged +aesthetically; and he saw a first lieutenant's +cap and bar, but it sat +rakishly on puffed-up brown curls.</p> + +<p>"If you'll just look at these papers, +major, you'll understand. I stratoed +in from the Pentagon this morning," +she said crisply.</p> + +<p>Though it was Grant's turn to +say something, he found too much +of his concentration on her challenging +brown eyes and the efficient +down-sweep of her half-pouting +mouth, plus a nub of a nose that +pointed proudly upwards with the +tilt of her head. In a temporary +defensive maneuver, Grant took the +papers handed him.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The borders were marked CONFIDENTIAL +and the attached signatures +would have impressed even +the general. The subject—he might +have expected—ATOMJET PATROL +LOSSES.</p> + +<p>"Er ... look, lieutenant— What +was it?" Grant glanced down at the +papers.</p> + +<p>"First Lieutenant Bridget Ashley."</p> + +<p>"Look, Lieutenant Ashley, the +general's been getting nothing but +troubles all day. For your sake and +his sake, I suggest you come back +tomorrow, huh?" Grant handed back +the papers and put a hand on her +elbow, but she jerked back.</p> + +<p>"Major, I've been given a great +deal of responsibility in this assignment," +she flared, "and it's important +for me to get work started at +once. I was led to understand these +patrol losses constituted a fairly +urgent matter."</p> + +<p>Grant glanced ominously toward +the general's door. "Lieutenant, I'm +trying to explain to you that it's in +your best interests to take this up +with him tomorrow. I'm one of his +aides and I know him. I realize +you're authorized to see him today, +but—"</p> + +<p>"Then I'll wait." She reseated +herself and emphatically crossed her +legs—a motion not escaping Grant's +notice.</p> + +<p>The adjutant and Grant mutually +shrugged at each other, and Grant +headed outside, saying over his +shoulder, "I'll be back in a minute."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>As it developed, it was far more +than a minute; but whatever it was, +when Grant returned she was gone. +The major looked at the adjutant, +and the adjutant indicated the general's +door with an apprehensive +nod. Grant bit his lip and entered +the private office.</p> + +<p>He had expected to hear the general's +bass raging, but through the +inner door came the strident tones +of the lieutenant's modulating contralto. +He had expected to see the +general towering over the girl's +shrinking figure, but as he entered +she was bent earnestly in the middle, +and the top of her torso inclined +toward General Morrison, who had +tilted as far back as his swivel chair +would permit.</p> + +<p>"... So, if you haven't isolated +any mechanical causation, how can +you be sure it's mechanical?" she +was laying it on. "And if you're not +sure it's mechanical, how can you +suggest there's no possibility of psychological +causation? The authorities +that sent me here have not only +considered the possibility, they feel +it's quite probable. All I am requesting, +sir, is immediate implementation +of my authority so your +investigation can be broadened. It's +really to your benefit that—"</p> + +<p>Grant said, "Lieutenant Ashley."</p> + +<p>"... My work be started at once +so as to catch up on what findings +you have obtained in the—"</p> + +<p>Grant shouted, "Lieutenant Ashley!"</p> + +<p>"... Investigation so far in the +mechanical aspects. It's not unlikely +that a combining factor, both psychological +and mechanical—"</p> + +<p>Grant yelled, "LIEUTENANT +ASHLEY!!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, major."</p> + +<p>"Would you please wait in the +outer office for just a moment?"</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"For just a moment, lieutenant."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Grant waited until the door closed +before he tried communication with +the general. The officer still teetered +in his chair, his eyes bulging from +his reddened face.</p> + +<p>"They sent me a shape," he sputtered. +"That I could take. Shapes I +don't mind, even with authority. But +this one— You know where she's +from, Grant?"</p> + +<p>Grant sighed hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"She's from syk," the general was +beginning to roar, "with a blank +check of authority from Washington. +She stood there and called the losses +pilot-error. My pilots, Grant, the +ones I trained!"</p> + +<p>"Just a possibility, she meant," +soothed Grant.</p> + +<p>"Possibility, hell! With that attitude +around Mojave we'll never get +anywhere in this investigation." He +untilted with a crash. "I want her +kept away from me, do you hear? +Give her anything she wants—but +appointments with me. I've got +United Nuclear here for stress tests, +coolant analyses, radiation metering +in the morning just as a start, and +I'm not going to have that shape +around fusing up the works."</p> + +<p>"I'll see what I can do, sir."</p> + +<p>"You're right you will. I'm putting +Colonel Sorenson in as G-2, +and you're going to be the new Syk +Coördinator for the duration of this +investigation!"</p> + +<p>"The what?"</p> + +<p>"You heard me."</p> + +<p>"It couldn't be that bad, general," +Grant grumbled.</p> + +<p>"It is."</p> + +<p>"Baby-sitting."</p> + +<p>The general stood up from his +desk. "No, you'll relay any data she +may turn up to me, and you'll see +she gets what supplies and personnel +she may need. Look, Washington +thinks we need her, so I take orders. +And so do you, Grant. I'll have a +special order out this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Grant saluted and +wheeled, grinding his molars.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>With dubious explanations, Grant +managed to steer Lieutenant Ashley +toward the Officers' Club. What +excuses he gave her evidently had +some effect; after the first fifty yards +across the drill ground she steered +easily, though still under vocal +protest.</p> + +<p>A drink, and Grant felt he could +face the future. They sat in a plastiweave +booth, one against the far +wall that overlooked through a +curved window the blasting circle.</p> + +<p>So wrapped up with his own +feelings, Grant had been unaware +of his companion's. Her face had +paled, and she stirred her drink +absently. The reflections in her eyes +were over-bright with moisture.</p> + +<p>Offered Grant: "The general has +a lot on his mind."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," she choked.</p> + +<p>"The losses have upset him pretty +bad."</p> + +<p>"I notice. Me, too."</p> + +<p>"Take a drink."</p> + +<p>She sipped one CC and said, "And +syk upsets him."</p> + +<p>Grant smiled, "And shapes."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose the rank of first +lieutenant makes him nervous."</p> + +<p>"No," Grant chuckled, "he can +take or leave that. It's majors that +get him."</p> + +<p>She smiled vaguely, so Grant followed +up with: "What's your background?"</p> + +<p>"Psychometrics. Got a doctorate +in it. I thought it might be valuable +to the Air Force—at one time." She +sipped two CCs.</p> + +<p>"I've a little syk background," +Grant said. She looked up in sudden +interest. "Started to major in it +until I ran up against some of the +profs. If this is what syk produces, +I decided, it's not for me. Changed +to engineering then. Unfortunately, +the general knows about my record."</p> + +<p>"How did he take it out on you, +parade duty?"</p> + +<p>"Worse. He made me an aide."</p> + +<p>The girl leaned on an elbow and +regarded him with her chin in her +hand. "You bring his slippers?"</p> + +<p>"As G-2, I did up until quarter +of an hour ago. I've been promoted. +Meet the Base Mojave Syk Coördinator."</p> + +<p>Putting her nose in her drink, +she giggled softly. "What is it he +wants coördinated, the syk or me?"</p> + +<p>"You're on bearing," he laughed. +"My name's Grant."</p> + +<p>His hand went across the table, +opened, and waited.</p> + +<p>"Bridget," she said, and her hand +fell into his in a handshake which +lingered slightly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>At Grant's insistence they jeep-toured +the base. To his surprise +Bridget took interest in the installations, +but asked most of her questions +around the atomjet hangars.</p> + +<p>"I've never seen one close," she +hinted.</p> + +<p>Grant flashed his Security card at +the guards and they went in. She +strolled about the tapering, snub-winged +craft, apparently inspecting +it closely. Grant's thought was that +she felt she had to dramatize understanding +something about Air Force +rocketry.</p> + +<p>After a short silence Bridget +asked, "What is the compensating +factor for the reactor's being placed +off the center of stability?"</p> + +<p>Grant blinked. "What's that +again?"</p> + +<p>She swung a pointed finger at the +ship. "Naturally," she interrupted, +"the nose will float downward in +the canal, hoisting the hot tubes out +of the liquid at the end of the glide-ins. +But you've got pilot, power +plant, and wings frontside. How can +you affect glide-ins at surface air +density without nosing in?"</p> + +<p>The major decided she must have +been reading the latest confidential +files. High-viscosity liquid landing +canals constituted a subject recent +enough to be Security and important +enough not to be bandied about +outside engineering and Base +Mojave.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," Grant cleared +his throat, "there're the fuel tanks +along the back of the blast chamber, +partly lead—"</p> + +<p>"The tanks usually are nearly +empty for glide-ins," she reminded.</p> + +<p>Grant frowned. "Yes, usually empty, +but still a weight factor. Then +there's the automatic wing stabilizer +that adjusts to the air speed and +density and acts to pull up the +nose—"</p> + +<p>"O.K.," she interrupted. "Now, +would you lift me through the +canopy, please? I'd like to sit inside +a minute."</p> + +<p>"That's out," he said. "Only pilots +and technicians."</p> + +<p>"All right, if you won't, I'll get +up myself." She marched over to the +hangar wall and pulled over boarding +steps, which were braced on +three pivotal tires.</p> + +<p>"Bridget, Security says pilots and +mechanics."</p> + +<p>"And you're forgetting why I'm +here, and besides that you're supposed +to coördinate. Right now +you're uncoördinating."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Before Grant's eyes flashed the +memory of her orders with the signatures +at the bottom. She was already +climbing the steps.</p> + +<p>"Just don't touch anything, that's +all," he conciliated, following her +up. Her seams were straight, he +noted.</p> + +<p>Bridget thudded into the narrow +pilot's seat and wiggled herself into +a comfortable position.</p> + +<p>"Awful crowded," she smiled up +at Grant.</p> + +<p>"I hope you tore your nylons," +he groused.</p> + +<p>"Now, if you'll just explain these +gadgets," she said, moving her hand +over the panel embedded with digit-rimmed +dials.</p> + +<p>"Hands off, please."</p> + +<p>"By your reaction, I would say +you don't know what some of them +are," she counter-fired, and tossed +her protruding bunch of curls.</p> + +<p>Grant took the bait. He leaned +into the canopy and with an over-stiffened +index finger pointed forcefully +at each gauge. For more than +a quarter-hour this went on, with +Bridget pitching questions—most of +which he juggled.</p> + +<p>She seemed to show more interest +in the radar screen, the navigational +equipment, and the communications +system. About these, she milked +Grant's available knowledge until +he felt like reaching down and +throwing open the reactor valve and +fuel switch.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, if you don't mind, +my back is paralyzed. Let's go back +to the club and I'll answer anything +you want."</p> + +<p>"Just one more," she coaxed. +"This crosshair sight with the little +black circle in the middle. How +does that work again?"</p> + +<p>Grant straightened up and carefully +massaged the small of his back. +"It's for precise manual navigation +if you need it. You sit up straight +and sight through it."</p> + +<p>"And what do you sight at?"</p> + +<p>"A star, of course."</p> + +<p>"Put it in the little black circle?"</p> + +<p>"An A for you. Then you snap +in Automatic Navigational and +you're in business. Or you can navigate +manually by using Gyroscopic +Navigational if you want."</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to get out now." +Bridget lifted her hands where Grant +stood on the platform of the boarding +device.</p> + +<p>Back or no back, Grant couldn't +resist the opportunity. He pulled her +by the hands to where she was leaning +out the opened canopy, then he +stooped and grabbed her under the +arms and swung her up. For a +moment her soft hair brushed his +ear, and a light scent from her neck +suggested he keep her pliant form +close to him a little longer than +necessary.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/002.png" width="450" height="360" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<p>He planted her next to the steps, +and she muttered an uninspired +thank you. But halfway down, she +halted and turned.</p> + +<p>"It's much easier asking me out +dancing, Grant," she smiled impishly, +and clacked across the hangar +floor toward the jeep.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>By the next morning arrangements +for a small staff and office space had +swiftly gone through. Working +through lunch, Bridget had the office +set up and the staff briefed and +researching when Grant returned +from dining with the general.</p> + +<p>"You're just in time," she said, +looking up from an already cluttered +desk. "I'm ready now to scan +through any G-2 you have on atomjet +operation in your Mojave files."</p> + +<p>Grant bristled. "These files are +under the general's nose, and I don't +think he'd appreciate—" He broke +off when he observed Bridget tapping +her pencil and frowning at him +impatiently.</p> + +<p>With a degree of diplomacy he +had to admire, Grant lifted the non-technical +files from the general's office +and furtively smuggled them out +in his brief case.</p> + +<p>"Don't take all day," he warned, +handing them to Bridget. "Part of +my job is keeping the general neutral +about you, and not against."</p> + +<p>Bridget jumped up and drew another +chair up to her desk. "How +about scanning with me? That'll get +the files back faster. Here, take these +on pilot training."</p> + +<p>The files repulsed him less than +Bridget attracted him, and he sat +down promptly. "And what do I +look for, psychologically significant +portions, is that it?"</p> + +<p>"Even psychologically insignificant +portions, major, if you please."</p> + +<p>Grant began to read. As he scanned +the copies of directives, reports, +operations logs, and procedures the +process became automatic, and part +of his consciousness turned contemplative.</p> + +<p>Three months ago he would have +considered the situation in which he +now found himself a future development +out of the question. Mojave +had brimmed with optimism and +pride and accomplishment and eagerness. +Base Mojave loomed vital in +national defense, constituted a main +element of national scientific pride.</p> + +<p>From the dusty desert stretches +the sprawling, efficient base had +taken shape while United Nuclear +had yet to assemble an atomjet. The +schedules came out perfectly, and +the first single-manned fusion-propulsed +rocketplane thundered off the +corporation proving grounds and +glided into Base Mojave as planned. +Designed for patrol of the mesosphere, +the ships were to have gained +for the West control of near-Earth +space, besides affording superior observation +posts for Eastern developments +and activity of a space nature.</p> + +<p>Training of the pilots had lasted +thirty weeks and went by without +a casualty or serious damage. Testing +and re-testing of the electronics +brought out no flaws. Stress and +thermal analyses held up under all +conditions imposed.</p> + +<p>The losses began after the third +week of patrol. UNR-6 failed to +return to base—with no hint of the +cause, with no communication from +the pilot. That one was hushed up +by the base PR officer, but news of +the second reached the press. During +the fifth week, UNR-2 never returned +for its glide-in, and, of course, +the first loss came out at that time, +too.</p> + +<p>General Morrison worked with +the pilots and engineers steadily on +the problem with apparent good results—for +a month. Then UNR-9 +vanished.</p> + +<p>Lately the orders had been for +patrol over the States, and it was presumed +UNR-9 would have made an +appearance somewhere had it been +in trouble. That's why the Dakota +farmer's report had been investigated +so swiftly.</p> + +<p>As of now, the situation had become +one patrol a day with reluctant +pilots, Congress sending a committee +to the base, a taxpayers' injunction +against the Air Force rocketplane +operation, and United Nuclear +men experimenting hourly with robot-piloted +atomjets at all altitudes +below four hundred miles.</p> + +<p>Plus the syk research, naturally.</p> + +<p>Bridget's ash tray spilled over with +right-angled cigarette butts, half-burned. +Grant studied her as she read +through the files intently although +her eyes rolled his way briefly on +occasion. She faced him with an +unexpected snap of the head.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Just looking," Grant explained.</p> + +<p>"Then just look for a pilot's +manual. It's been mentioned and I +haven't seen one around. Would you +mind?"</p> + +<p>Grant opened his mouth to inform +her a pilot's manual for the +atomjet was classified secret, but +caught himself before he could verbalize +the protest. He shrugged and +planned more strategy for invading +the general's files.</p> + +<p>The only things he could be +grateful for so far were Bridget's +beauty and the fact the staff had not +realized he was her adjutant.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Mayo psychiatrist and the +Yale psychologist had been in conference +with Bridget for almost an +hour. She had been giving them +preliminary findings and the results +of tests and interviews with the base +pilots.</p> + +<p>When they finally broke up, Bridget +approached Grant with a there's-something-I-want-from-you +look. +Grant nearly had a chance to offer +lunch before she suggested it.</p> + +<p>What she wanted from him came +out over their aerated sherbet pie. +By the time she finished, Grant's +dessert was beginning to taste like +vitaminized space rations.</p> + +<p>"Impossible," he said, dabbing at +sherbet spots on his trousers. "The +general would react faster than to a +red alert."</p> + +<p>"Your concern may be the general's +reactions, but mine's not," +Bridget snapped. "I just want an +objective engineering answer, yes or +no."</p> + +<p>Grant threw up his hands. "O.K., +O.K. With a live pilot, yes, you +can get a TV transmitter in an atomjet +with some doing. You'd have to +jerk out the extra oxygen space +and—"</p> + +<p>"Wonderful! When can you have +it for me?"</p> + +<p>"Bridget, what I'm getting at, the +general will take this as a slap at him +and his pilots. We've had TV transmission +from robotized atomjets +dozens of times—"</p> + +<p>"With no results."</p> + +<p>"With no results," Grant admitted, +"but that doesn't mean that with +a pilot you'll necessarily get any, +either."</p> + +<p>"No, but why hasn't someone +tried?" Bridget waited for him to +answer a decent two seconds and +then added, "The general, naturally."</p> + +<p>They left the base lunchroom in +silence, Bridget pouting a lip-edge +more than Grant. Before entering +the office, Grant brought up a rebuttal.</p> + +<p>"Another thing, no pilot is going +to push up under those conditions, +with you down there hoping something +will happen."</p> + +<p>Bridget had her hand on the door, +but instead of opening it, paused. +"The pilot would have to trust me." +Her eyes darkened, widened, split +Grant emotionally down the middle. +He could understand, for an instant +when he let himself, how a man +could be inveigled to do anything +for a woman.</p> + +<p>"Yeah," he said. "A pilot like +that might be hard to find. I'll see +what I can do."</p> + +<p>As he walked toward the hangars, +he heard the office door close softly +behind him.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>At the engineering conference +after supper Grant had never seen +General Morrison looking quite that +old. The man was sustaining an +overload of responsibility, and probably +self-imposed guilt on top of it.</p> + +<p>The mechanical engineers made +their report, followed by the electronic +engineers, followed by the +physicist—all negative. But each +group had a suspicion that another +had overlooked something. Before +it regressed to a high-school debate, +the general bellowed the conference +to order.</p> + +<p>Grant was surprised at the twinge +of emotion he experienced when he +realized the general was not going +to ask for a report from syk. Why +should Grant care, anyway? The +position meant nothing to him, Syk +Coördinator.</p> + +<p>It meant something to Bridget, +though.</p> + +<p>That General Morrison had not +even checked for syk findings annoyed +Grant, perhaps. Under the circumstances +he was justified: nothing +had yet come out, nothing that Bridget +had told Grant, anyway. The +general could not be aware of this. +He assumed it. Maybe that's what +upset Grant.</p> + +<p>"Then there's this De-Meteor," +the general was saying. "I've always +been suspicious of that gadget."</p> + +<p>An electronics man spoke up. "A +Clary man checked them all, even +used instrument flight to be certain. +I was with him and counter-checked +the radar high-speed scanners, the +computers, and the course-alteration +mechanism. I was convinced myself +it would steer the ship out of any +situation involving the approach of +one or two penetrating meteors."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>General Morrison turned to the +spatialogist. "What about the incidence +of penetrating meteors in the +mesosphere?"</p> + +<p>"In average fall," the man replied, +"fairly low."</p> + +<p>"And the probability of encountering +three at once along a given +atomjet trajectory?"</p> + +<p>"From what limited experiments +we have made, the odds would be +astronomical, I'd say."</p> + +<p>The general snorted. "Too great +to account for three ships, anyway, +is that it?" He soothed his forehead +with his big hand. "All right, let's +make another check starting tomorrow +morning. More robot-flight tests. +Let's have ships outside the mesosphere +operation range. And I want +reports on anything that looks like +anything, understand?"</p> + +<p>The group emitted a low groan. +This was the fourth comprehensive +check—grueling, close, meticulous, +nerve-racking work.</p> + +<p>From the rear came the voice of +a courageous civilian mechanical engineer, +"What about a check on the +pilots?"</p> + +<p>The sudden silence was like an +electrical field. The base commander +continued to shuffle up his notes +and papers, but his neck crimsoned.</p> + +<p>He's not going to hear it, Grant +thought.</p> + +<p>"Conference dismissed!" the general +ordered.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Three-four-five rings, and Bridget +answered. The first word was a yawned +"Lieutenant" and the next was +an exhaled "Ashley."</p> + +<p>"Sorry to get you up, Bridget. +This is Grant. Can you come down +to Hangar Four?"</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she asked +thickly.</p> + +<p>"Three-fifteen. Will you come +down here?"</p> + +<p>"Unchaperoned?"</p> + +<p>"That's not the point. A surprise. +What we talked about the other +day."</p> + +<p>Bridget's interest picked up. +"What we talked about? But I'll +have to dress and fix my face—"</p> + +<p>"Put on a robe and slippers. It's +a warm morning. I've got it fixed +with the O.D. Now, will you come +on down?"</p> + +<p>She paused. "You've convinced +me."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Grant heard her +slippers shuffling over the concrete. +She arrived in a brilliant blue nylon +robe, with white fluffy slippers and +traces of a lighter blue nightgown +underneath. The hangar brightness +brought a frown to her eyes, which +she shielded with a hand cupped to +her brow. A creature as entrancing +as that, Grant decided, should now +recite prose poetry in contralto tones +to make his ideal complete.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she croaked, a sleepy +frog in her throat. "So I'm here."</p> + +<p>The last mechanic was picking up +his tools and was about ready to +leave. Otherwise, they were alone, +except for the guard at the hangar +entrance.</p> + +<p>"Up on the platform," said Grant, +unlocking the canopy of UNR-12. +He busied himself adjusting the +guiding tension.</p> + +<p>He heard the slippers, shuffling +and gritting, climb the loading device +and stop next to him. He heard +the gasp as she saw the pilot compartment's +freshly built-in TV transmitter +and lens. When he felt the +pull on his arm, he chose to notice +her.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Grant. I thought for a +while—"</p> + +<p>"It's ready for tomorrow if you +want it," Grant mentioned casually.</p> + +<p>Bridget's fists clenched and her +eyes brightened. "Wow," she observed. +"Then you've got a pilot?"</p> + +<p>Grinning sourly, Grant said, "As +if you don't know who."</p> + +<p>Her eyes showed concern. "What +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean things have worked out +creamy as you planned."</p> + +<p>"Grant, I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Now, don't tell me you didn't +know I could push up one of these +things." He patted the side of the +atomjet.</p> + +<p>"You, a pilot? Grant. I didn't +know."</p> + +<p>"Let's say it's been convenient for +you, anyway."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>They had walked outside, Bridget +trying to find Grant's gaze, which +he put onto a distant ridge of hills +rising dimly against the desert starscape.</p> + +<p>Bridget said seriously, "You think +I've been enticing you into the pilot +job, is that it?"</p> + +<p>Grant's glance fell to hers. "It +looked that way to me. All the +general's staff have to fly 'em, I +thought you knew that. I don't +patrol, of course."</p> + +<p>They neared her quarters, and +the shadow of the building that +spilled over them was deep.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know, Grant, believe +me." Her voice carried earnestness.</p> + +<p>"You don't have to prove it," +Grant said huskily.</p> + +<p>He had caught her hand, and +then her arm slid softly around his +neck. Her kiss was meant as brief, +but he persuaded her differently. +They clung together silently until +the barracks guard had spun an +about-face and headed back their +way.</p> + +<p>"Please, Grant, get someone else +to go up," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"You said you wanted a pilot +who trusted you," reminded Grant. +"Now, get to bed before I gig you +for being out of uniform. See me +tomorrow on TV."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The miles altimeter needle swept +steadily and was about to pass the +300 division. Star-sprinkled space-darkness +lay ahead by now, but when +he looked to the side the Earth's +surface reflected the sunlight dazzlingly.</p> + +<p>It wasn't that he felt self-consciousness +over the lens in front of +him, or over the one showing him +in profile, and the one just over his +shoulder viewing the instrument +panel. Nor was it based on his not +pushing up in over a month. He +traced it probably to the uncertainty +of his position.</p> + +<p>His position was uncertain, because +Bridget could easily be right. +Actually, considering the lack of one +lead in the other avenues of the +investigation, chances were good +something was happening to pilots +and could happen to him.</p> + +<p>That was not what bothered him: +not that something might occur, but +<i>what</i> might occur. Fighting unknowns +for Grant carried no interest.</p> + +<p>"I'm over 300," he transmitted. +"Now what?"</p> + +<p>Bridget's voice arrived with an +ionospheric waver. "Level at 375. +Please remember, you're trying to +simulate patrol conditions. Don't +transmit unless it's your report period +or something goes wrong."</p> + +<p>"Like what, lieutenant?"</p> + +<p>"If you knew all the psychological +quirks possible, you'd avoid them, +major. And if you're still worried, +I've taken adequate precautions. +There's a staff of twenty-five persons +here with instruments on you. By the +way, your picture is coming over +horribly."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/003.png" width="450" height="316" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<p>"Try my profile. I've heard it's +better."</p> + +<p>"And please replace your galvanometric +and respiratory clamps. We're +getting no register here."</p> + +<p>"They're too uncomfortable."</p> + +<p>"Major, let me remind you this +flight is costing the taxpayers plenty, +hasn't General Morrison's clearance, +and may have to be flown again unless +you coöperate fully." Grant +smiled at the lens. He could visualize +her curls whipping around.</p> + +<p>"Now, please coöperate and replace +the clamps, and try to simulate +patrol conditions. I will call you from +time to time for further instructions. +Ashley at Mojave—out."</p> + +<p>Grant returned, "Reis over Mojave—nuts."</p> + +<p>After parodying annoyance at the +lens, he dutifully replaced the chest +and palm clamps and settled down +to the tedium of patrol.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Behind him, tons of pressure thundered +silently out in controlled gaseous +fusion, hurled him starward on +a pillar of energy. He had already +broken his vertical ascent and was +slanting toward the latitude Bridget +requested. The Pacific rolled up +under the atomjet's polished nose, +which sparkled with myriads of +brighter star reflections. Then he +recalled he couldn't play over the +ocean and veered slowly northward, +up the coast to the telltale configuration +of Puget Sound.</p> + +<p>Over the eastern lakes he cut +fusion and watched on the altimeter +dial the battle between gravity and +inertia. Near the Mississippi delta he +was wrenched in a sharp maneuver +as the De-Meteor suddenly took +over. He was fortunate to see the +streaking missile glow brightly and +flare out of existence in the thin +regions of atmosphere miles beneath +him.</p> + +<p>More than three hours of patrol, +and no word from Mojave. Obediently, +Grant had not called in. He +set course for Mojave and was nearly +ready to transmit when a bark of +static filled the pressurized control +bubble. Disappointed, Grant heard +a male voice over the speaker.</p> + +<p>"High altitude weather observation +overdue. UNR-12, please report +synoptics in quadrants."</p> + +<p>They really want simulation, Grant +grumbled mentally. "Southwest +quadrant, southeast quadrant clear +except for banner-clouding higher +ranges. Northwest, scattered alto-cumulus, +looks like the onset of a +warm front, with the northeast quadrant +moderate-high cirrus. And let +me talk to Br ... to Lieutenant +Ashley, please."</p> + +<p>A pause. "Ashley, Mojave."</p> + +<p>"How's my picture now?"</p> + +<p>"Your vertical is off, and you +flutter. Major, the first three hours +have been without direction from the +base. For the next two, we're going +to ask you to perform certain patrol +tasks, perhaps repeat them. The +process may not prove especially +enjoyable. Your close coöperation +will be appreciated."</p> + +<p>"If this is all stuff we went +through in training—" Grant sputtered.</p> + +<p>"Some of it may be," Bridget's +voice. "The fact it's distasteful may +make it the more significant. Are you +ready to coöperate?"</p> + +<p>Grant nodded at the lens and +screwed up his face in an exaggerated +frown.</p> + +<p>Bridget's thoroughness called for +admiration. She had him at the end +of a string, activating him from a +plot taken directly from the pilot's +manual. He would coöperate, but he +was not enthusiastic.</p> + +<p>As the exercises progressed, Grant +detected subtle variations Bridget +had added to the basic maneuvers. +On the tight starboard circle, for +instance, she had him keep his eyes +on Earth, making him slightly dizzy.</p> + +<p>Then she requested a free-fall +drop from a stall with the provision +he this time place his attention on +the instrument panel—"with no +peeking outside." He complied, +watching the altimeter trace forty +miles toward the basement, and +experienced effects no different than +usual.</p> + +<p>After a while, he came to consider +it a game and might have gained +amusement from it, were it not for +the tiredness creeping in behind his +eyes and the fact two dozen technicians +somewhere down there were +hoping to trip a fatal, hidden +synapse.</p> + +<p>"How much more of this?" Grant +transmitted finally.</p> + +<p>"Getting tired?" Bridget replied, +and paused for an answer.</p> + +<p>"Let's say I don't feel like six sets +of tennis."</p> + +<p>"A few more, major, and we'll +authorize your glide-in." If there +was disappointment in her voice, it +did not manifest itself. "Your next +exercise is manual navigation with +Jupiter as your fix."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Grant took down the figures she +gave in acute disinterest. Boredom +had settled heavily over his outlook +on the operation. No longer did it +matter that his facial reactions were +being televised to the syk-happy +probers; and it made no difference +to him any more that his every +breath, swallow, heart beat, tension, +and sweat-secretion was magnified +by inky needles along moving rolls +of paper.</p> + +<p>His exercise target was a southwestern +New Mexico town, and he +swung back from the Gulf area and +coaxed the responsive craft until the +planet gleamed brightly in the crosshairs +of the navigational sight. That +put him four degrees off the horizontal, +he noted, but Jupiter was +setting; he adjusted his velocity to +maintain the planet's relative skyward +position in the west.</p> + +<p>In some irritation he stepped up +the thrust. This one could easily take +too long. The faint hum of the +power plant provided music as the +bright point of light danced slightly +from the sight's center.</p> + +<p>The realization came that he had +jumped convulsively. Grant was puzzled +that he was not aware what +had happened. Some sort of reflex? +But reflex from what? Tingling +coursed its way up his left leg and +he rubbed his thigh.</p> + +<p>When he put his attention on the +sight again, the planet had slipped +out. In fact, it was nowhere in the +immediate starscape ahead of him.</p> + +<p>His quick glance at the basement +showed first that a twilight shadow +was moving in from the north— From +the north? It had to be the +east! And how come so soon?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Small panic twisted his diaphragm +when he viewed below the unfamiliar +topography and increasing cloudiness. +And when he saw by his watch +it was nearly three—</p> + +<p>The radio had started to transmit. +He swallowed a lump of fear and +prepared some kind of an answer. +"... If you hear me. Please indicate +if you hear me, Grant."</p> + +<p>He nodded at the lens.</p> + +<p>"Would you like a pilot to help +you orient from here?"</p> + +<p>Grant felt sheepish, but the panic +still remained. He was now aware +his alertness was not up to par, so +he nodded again. But he was feeling +better by the minute.</p> + +<p>Back on course under one of the +pilot's directions, Grant soon took +over.</p> + +<p>"Skip that exercise, Grant, and +glide in," Bridget sent. "Feel up to +it, now?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah, but what's it all about? +I must've passed out, but damned +if I know what for."</p> + +<p>Grant heard Bridget's laugh and +his morale improved. "You come +down and take me to dinner and +I'll give you the answer—and what +I think may be the answer to all +the general's troubles. Right now I've +got a report to write so the general +can get the word soon—and as painlessly +as possible."</p> + +<p>Grant pressed the stud to activate +the skin coolant system for entrance +into the atmosphere. He almost felt +like grinning.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Grant at the medical officer's advice +took a brief nap, which quickly +cleared up his mental fuzziness. As +a surprise to Bridget he ordered a +rotocab from Barstow, the nearest +town, booming since the base had +become operative.</p> + +<p>In a specialty restaurant over +freshly arrived seafood from San +Francisco, Grant tried to persuade +Bridget to stop teasing him about +the navigational foul-up and set him +straight. He had put up with it as +long as he did only because she had +worn an off-shoulder yellow gown, +snugly fitted, that made the uniform +seem like the design of a Mid-Victorian +prude.</p> + +<p>Grant, exasperated, brought her +teasing up short. "I've been priding +myself on keeping up the myth I'm a +wide-awake young man and pilot. +Never have I passed out before—never. +I feel like a washed-out cadet. +You've had your fun baiting—now, +what made me blank?"</p> + +<p>Bridget cringed as he tore a slice +of French bread in half with one +hostile, meaningful bite.</p> + +<p>She waved her cigarette haughtily. +"We in psychology have found certain +stimuli productive of consistent +human response. Especially true in +tactile sensation, this, however, is +not as true in the auditory and +visual."</p> + +<p>"You're being technical," Grant +interrupted. "Just let me know +simple-like, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Consequently," she continued, +"the problem presented to the investigating +psychologist was one of +seeking an involuntary response to +one or more stimuli, in sequence or +grouped. Traditionally—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Ashley—" Grant held up +the small, square tissue-wrapped box, +tied with a bow—"I would like to +have you open this tonight, but obviously +you're not going to have time +what with the thesis, and all." He +deliberately put the box back in his +coat pocket.</p> + +<p>Their eyes held over her swordfish +momentarily.</p> + +<p>"So, O.K., I looked around for +nasty stimuli, that's all," Bridget +went on. "There were lots of possibilities, +but I sorta picked two or +three. Part of our pilot interviews +was for getting descriptions from +the men on what the conditions up +there felt like, sounded like, looked +like, smelled like, and so on. Completely +individual, mind you. From +that we spotted negative elements +held in common by them."</p> + +<p>Grant reached for her arm and +blocked the upward motion of her +fish-loaded fork.</p> + +<p>"You can eat after," he said.</p> + +<p>"I threw the nasty ones at you +when you began tiring, because that's +when the body's stimulus-response +setup starts pulling away from conscious +direction. I saved the one I +had the hunch on for the last."</p> + +<p>"The navigation exercise, you +mean? I still don't get what that +has to do with my leg cramp."</p> + +<p>Bridget laughed. "Oh, that. One +of those leads attached to your leg +carried a little voltage—just in case +you passed out. The benefits of +current psychology, you know."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Grant repressed a smile. "Thanks +for letting me know what brought +me around, but you are still stalling +about why I went under."</p> + +<p>"You figure it out. What were the +stimuli associated with the manual +navigation problem?"</p> + +<p>"Let's see," he mused. "Tactile: +nothing important, just the control +levers. Visually, the star field and +Jupiter and the crosshairs. Auditorily, +the power hum—"</p> + +<p>"What stands out?"</p> + +<p>"The planet and the hum, I +guess."</p> + +<p>"And how did the planet appear?" +Bridget asked.</p> + +<p>"A point of light, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"And what does that add up to: +a bright concentrated light source +on which you fix your attention and +a monotonous hum?"</p> + +<p>"Not hypnotism!"</p> + +<p>Bridget shrugged. "A reasonable +facsimile. Especially when you throw +mental fatigue in with it."</p> + +<p>"But you need a suggestion, I +thought—" Grant was amazed.</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily," she replied. +"You were mentally tired, there was +some self-suggestion for sleep. But +simply a continued fixation of the +eyes in suggestive subjects can be +enough. There may be a subconscious +association with previous hypnosis, or +early states of mental shock. In the +highly suggestive, a steady lulling +noise can be sufficient in itself. And +you were alone, with no one around +to snap a finger under your nose. +Add it up in your situation, and you +blank out."</p> + +<p>Grant slapped his forehead. +"What did I look like?"</p> + +<p>"Not any different than usual," +she said, laughing. "You continued +to hold the controls, but you stared +vacantly and tensed quite a bit. Well, +we have the complete recording on +your reactions if you want to check. +Naturally, you pulled off course, +ended up over Mexico, gaining about +fifty miles in altitude."</p> + +<p>The others, thought Grant, rode +until their oxygen gave out or dived +through the atmosphere without skin-cooling, +or came out of it too late +and found— He decided not to +think about it.</p> + +<p>"But I don't think I'm hypnotic," +Grant protested.</p> + +<p>"Everyone is hypnotic to a degree. +Some are a great deal more than +others, and these are the ones that +are apparent. Impose the right conditions +and a quasi-hypnotic condition +could be affected on most anyone."</p> + +<p>"But why hasn't this happened +elsewhere?"</p> + +<p>Bridget took a quick bite of fish +before he could stop her. "It has. +First documentation I found was in +the South Pacific air war in the '40s. +One-man escorting fighter planes in +several cases slipped out of bomber +formations they were following at +night and splashed. One of the +explanations at their hearings, but +never investigated thoroughly, was +hypnosis from the single red taillight +of the bombers. In one outfit, the +losses stopped when the fighters flew +up front."</p> + +<p>"Not only sharp, but good-looking, +too," Grant admired, and began +chewing on the other half of his +French bread. Then he ceased masticating +and mouthed anxiously, +"You've told the general this?"</p> + +<p>Bridget clapped her hands. "With +exquisite pleasure."</p> + +<p>"And he—?"</p> + +<p>"... Got excited, phoned for +engineering to remove navigational +sights and suggested I join the staff +at the base."</p> + +<p>Grant coughed on the bread and +hurriedly reached for his water. "He +wants you around?"</p> + +<p>"Gratitude, I guess, in his own +brassy way."</p> + +<p>"And you'll stay?"</p> + +<p>"If Washington O.K.'s it, and +I'm coaxed."</p> + +<p>"Then that simplifies the matter," +he said and brought out the daintily +wrapped tiny gift box. "For you."</p> + +<p>Her eyes warmed and smiled as +she said, "That's the kind of coaxing +a woman wants."</p> + +<p>Grant fumed, "Then you know +what it is? Extrasensory perception +or something psychological?"</p> + +<p>Their hands met across the table +and lingered.</p> + +<p>"Purely an emotional response," +said Bridget.</p> + +<div class="hd1"><b>THE END</b></div> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/004.png" width="450" height="206" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Astounding Science Fiction</i> March 1955. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Fine Fix, by R. C. 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