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diff --git a/27696.txt b/27696.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..79d8189 --- /dev/null +++ b/27696.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1552 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + + + + +A FINE FIX + +BY R. C. NOLL + +[Illustration] + + _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!_ + +Illustrated by van Dongen + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Y'sure got back in a rush," he addressed the major, who was just +jumping from the plastiglas cabin. + +The major nodded and put his attention on seeing that the general +descended safely. He then indicated the farmer. + +"He's the one," the major said. + +The general grunted socially. + +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." + +"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." + +The party of six men, two of them technicians, waded into the field from +the road. The farmer remained to watch, frowning. + +When they had progressed well into the wheat, he shouted after them +ruefully, "And watch where you're steppin', too!" + +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. + +"Let's have a counter on it," the general ordered. + +A technician slid into the crater and swept the metal with his +instrument. The needle swung far over and stuck. + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"What do you think about instituting a search of this vicinity for other +parts, general?" + +The officer growled negatively. "Obviously, the reactor was the only +part not vaporized in the fall--because of its construction." + +"That's assuming the ship entered the atmosphere at operational velocity +and not less than free fall," the major qualified. + +"How can anyone assume free fall? Way outside probability." + +"Yes, sir, but there are degrees of velocity involved. He could have +used reverse thrust and entered at a relatively slow speed." + +"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!" + +The big man's voice had risen to anger, but Major Grant Reis had not +missed the vocal breaking in the last syllables. + + * * * * * + +"I'm First Lieutenant Ashley and I've an appointment to see General +Morrison." + +The adjutant said, "Sorry, but you'll have to wait a little longer. The +general's unexpectedly busy." + +"My appointment was over an hour ago." + +"Another half-hour and you can go in." + +"Another half-hour and I'll go." + +"It's your bar." + +The lieutenant plopped back into a chair just as Grant strode swiftly +past the adjutant's desk from the private office. + +"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." + +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. + +"Major, it's pretty important," the waiting officer said, standing +again. Grant shifted his attention. + +"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. + +"If you'll just look at these papers, major, you'll understand. I +stratoed in from the Pentagon this morning," she said crisply. + +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. + + * * * * * + +The borders were marked CONFIDENTIAL and the attached signatures would +have impressed even the general. The subject--he might have +expected--ATOMJET PATROL LOSSES. + +"Er ... look, lieutenant-- What was it?" Grant glanced down at the +papers. + +"First Lieutenant Bridget Ashley." + +"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. + +"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." + +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--" + +"Then I'll wait." She reseated herself and emphatically crossed her +legs--a motion not escaping Grant's notice. + +The adjutant and Grant mutually shrugged at each other, and Grant headed +outside, saying over his shoulder, "I'll be back in a minute." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"... 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--" + +Grant said, "Lieutenant Ashley." + +"... My work be started at once so as to catch up on what findings you +have obtained in the--" + +Grant shouted, "Lieutenant Ashley!" + +"... Investigation so far in the mechanical aspects. It's not unlikely +that a combining factor, both psychological and mechanical--" + +Grant yelled, "LIEUTENANT ASHLEY!!" + +"Yes, sir, major." + +"Would you please wait in the outer office for just a moment?" + +"But--" + +"For just a moment, lieutenant." + +"Yes, sir." + +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. + +"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?" + +Grant sighed hopelessly. + +"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!" + +"Just a possibility, she meant," soothed Grant. + +"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." + +"I'll see what I can do, sir." + +"You're right you will. I'm putting Colonel Sorenson in as G-2, and +you're going to be the new Syk Cooerdinator for the duration of this +investigation!" + +"The what?" + +"You heard me." + +"It couldn't be that bad, general," Grant grumbled. + +"It is." + +"Baby-sitting." + +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." + +"Yes, sir," Grant saluted and wheeled, grinding his molars. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Offered Grant: "The general has a lot on his mind." + +"Yeah," she choked. + +"The losses have upset him pretty bad." + +"I notice. Me, too." + +"Take a drink." + +She sipped one CC and said, "And syk upsets him." + +Grant smiled, "And shapes." + +"And I suppose the rank of first lieutenant makes him nervous." + +"No," Grant chuckled, "he can take or leave that. It's majors that get +him." + +She smiled vaguely, so Grant followed up with: "What's your background?" + +"Psychometrics. Got a doctorate in it. I thought it might be valuable to +the Air Force--at one time." She sipped two CCs. + +"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." + +"How did he take it out on you, parade duty?" + +"Worse. He made me an aide." + +The girl leaned on an elbow and regarded him with her chin in her hand. +"You bring his slippers?" + +"As G-2, I did up until quarter of an hour ago. I've been promoted. Meet +the Base Mojave Syk Cooerdinator." + +Putting her nose in her drink, she giggled softly. "What is it he wants +cooerdinated, the syk or me?" + +"You're on bearing," he laughed. "My name's Grant." + +His hand went across the table, opened, and waited. + +"Bridget," she said, and her hand fell into his in a handshake which +lingered slightly. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"I've never seen one close," she hinted. + +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. + +After a short silence Bridget asked, "What is the compensating factor +for the reactor's being placed off the center of stability?" + +Grant blinked. "What's that again?" + +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?" + +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. + +"Well, you see," Grant cleared his throat, "there're the fuel tanks +along the back of the blast chamber, partly lead--" + +"The tanks usually are nearly empty for glide-ins," she reminded. + +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--" + +"O.K.," she interrupted. "Now, would you lift me through the canopy, +please? I'd like to sit inside a minute." + +"That's out," he said. "Only pilots and technicians." + +"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. + +"Bridget, Security says pilots and mechanics." + +"And you're forgetting why I'm here, and besides that you're supposed to +cooerdinate. Right now you're uncooerdinating." + + * * * * * + +Before Grant's eyes flashed the memory of her orders with the signatures +at the bottom. She was already climbing the steps. + +"Just don't touch anything, that's all," he conciliated, following her +up. Her seams were straight, he noted. + +Bridget thudded into the narrow pilot's seat and wiggled herself into a +comfortable position. + +"Awful crowded," she smiled up at Grant. + +"I hope you tore your nylons," he groused. + +"Now, if you'll just explain these gadgets," she said, moving her hand +over the panel embedded with digit-rimmed dials. + +"Hands off, please." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Lieutenant, if you don't mind, my back is paralyzed. Let's go back to +the club and I'll answer anything you want." + +"Just one more," she coaxed. "This crosshair sight with the little black +circle in the middle. How does that work again?" + +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." + +"And what do you sight at?" + +"A star, of course." + +"Put it in the little black circle?" + +"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." + +"I'm ready to get out now." Bridget lifted her hands where Grant stood +on the platform of the boarding device. + +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. + +[Illustration] + +He planted her next to the steps, and she muttered an uninspired thank +you. But halfway down, she halted and turned. + +"It's much easier asking me out dancing, Grant," she smiled impishly, +and clacked across the hangar floor toward the jeep. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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?" + +"Even psychologically insignificant portions, major, if you please." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +General Morrison worked with the pilots and engineers steadily on the +problem with apparent good results--for a month. Then UNR-9 vanished. + +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. + +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. + +Plus the syk research, naturally. + +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. + +"Well?" + +"Just looking," Grant explained. + +"Then just look for a pilot's manual. It's been mentioned and I haven't +seen one around. Would you mind?" + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Impossible," he said, dabbing at sherbet spots on his trousers. "The +general would react faster than to a red alert." + +"Your concern may be the general's reactions, but mine's not," Bridget +snapped. "I just want an objective engineering answer, yes or no." + +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--" + +"Wonderful! When can you have it for me?" + +"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--" + +"With no results." + +"With no results," Grant admitted, "but that doesn't mean that with a +pilot you'll necessarily get any, either." + +"No, but why hasn't someone tried?" Bridget waited for him to answer a +decent two seconds and then added, "The general, naturally." + +They left the base lunchroom in silence, Bridget pouting a lip-edge more +than Grant. Before entering the office, Grant brought up a rebuttal. + +"Another thing, no pilot is going to push up under those conditions, +with you down there hoping something will happen." + +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. + +"Yeah," he said. "A pilot like that might be hard to find. I'll see what +I can do." + +As he walked toward the hangars, he heard the office door close softly +behind him. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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 +Cooerdinator. + +It meant something to Bridget, though. + +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. + +"Then there's this De-Meteor," the general was saying. "I've always been +suspicious of that gadget." + +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." + + * * * * * + +General Morrison turned to the spatialogist. "What about the incidence +of penetrating meteors in the mesosphere?" + +"In average fall," the man replied, "fairly low." + +"And the probability of encountering three at once along a given atomjet +trajectory?" + +"From what limited experiments we have made, the odds would be +astronomical, I'd say." + +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?" + +The group emitted a low groan. This was the fourth comprehensive +check--grueling, close, meticulous, nerve-racking work. + +From the rear came the voice of a courageous civilian mechanical +engineer, "What about a check on the pilots?" + +The sudden silence was like an electrical field. The base commander +continued to shuffle up his notes and papers, but his neck crimsoned. + +He's not going to hear it, Grant thought. + +"Conference dismissed!" the general ordered. + + * * * * * + +Three-four-five rings, and Bridget answered. The first word was a yawned +"Lieutenant" and the next was an exhaled "Ashley." + +"Sorry to get you up, Bridget. This is Grant. Can you come down to +Hangar Four?" + +"What time is it?" she asked thickly. + +"Three-fifteen. Will you come down here?" + +"Unchaperoned?" + +"That's not the point. A surprise. What we talked about the other day." + +Bridget's interest picked up. "What we talked about? But I'll have to +dress and fix my face--" + +"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?" + +She paused. "You've convinced me." + +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. + +"Well?" she croaked, a sleepy frog in her throat. "So I'm here." + +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. + +"Up on the platform," said Grant, unlocking the canopy of UNR-12. He +busied himself adjusting the guiding tension. + +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. + +"Thanks, Grant. I thought for a while--" + +"It's ready for tomorrow if you want it," Grant mentioned casually. + +Bridget's fists clenched and her eyes brightened. "Wow," she observed. +"Then you've got a pilot?" + +Grinning sourly, Grant said, "As if you don't know who." + +Her eyes showed concern. "What do you mean?" + +"I mean things have worked out creamy as you planned." + +"Grant, I don't understand." + +"Now, don't tell me you didn't know I could push up one of these +things." He patted the side of the atomjet. + +"You, a pilot? Grant. I didn't know." + +"Let's say it's been convenient for you, anyway." + + * * * * * + +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. + +Bridget said seriously, "You think I've been enticing you into the pilot +job, is that it?" + +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." + +They neared her quarters, and the shadow of the building that spilled +over them was deep. + +"I didn't know, Grant, believe me." Her voice carried earnestness. + +"You don't have to prove it," Grant said huskily. + +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. + +"Please, Grant, get someone else to go up," she whispered. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That was not what bothered him: not that something might occur, but +_what_ might occur. Fighting unknowns for Grant carried no interest. + +"I'm over 300," he transmitted. "Now what?" + +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." + +"Like what, lieutenant?" + +"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." + +[Illustration] + +"Try my profile. I've heard it's better." + +"And please replace your galvanometric and respiratory clamps. We're +getting no register here." + +"They're too uncomfortable." + +"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 cooeperate fully." Grant smiled at the lens. He could +visualize her curls whipping around. + +"Now, please cooeperate 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." + +Grant returned, "Reis over Mojave--nuts." + +After parodying annoyance at the lens, he dutifully replaced the chest +and palm clamps and settled down to the tedium of patrol. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"High altitude weather observation overdue. UNR-12, please report +synoptics in quadrants." + +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." + +A pause. "Ashley, Mojave." + +"How's my picture now?" + +"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 cooeperation will +be appreciated." + +"If this is all stuff we went through in training--" Grant sputtered. + +"Some of it may be," Bridget's voice. "The fact it's distasteful may +make it the more significant. Are you ready to cooeperate?" + +Grant nodded at the lens and screwed up his face in an exaggerated +frown. + +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 cooeperate, but he was not enthusiastic. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"How much more of this?" Grant transmitted finally. + +"Getting tired?" Bridget replied, and paused for an answer. + +"Let's say I don't feel like six sets of tennis." + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + + * * * * * + +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-- + +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." + +He nodded at the lens. + +"Would you like a pilot to help you orient from here?" + +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. + +Back on course under one of the pilot's directions, Grant soon took +over. + +"Skip that exercise, Grant, and glide in," Bridget sent. "Feel up to it, +now?" + +"Yeah, but what's it all about? I must've passed out, but damned if I +know what for." + +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." + +Grant pressed the stud to activate the skin coolant system for entrance +into the atmosphere. He almost felt like grinning. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +Bridget cringed as he tore a slice of French bread in half with one +hostile, meaningful bite. + +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." + +"You're being technical," Grant interrupted. "Just let me know +simple-like, if you don't mind." + +"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--" + +"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. + +Their eyes held over her swordfish momentarily. + +"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." + +Grant reached for her arm and blocked the upward motion of her +fish-loaded fork. + +"You can eat after," he said. + +"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." + +"The navigation exercise, you mean? I still don't get what that has to +do with my leg cramp." + +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." + + * * * * * + +Grant repressed a smile. "Thanks for letting me know what brought me +around, but you are still stalling about why I went under." + +"You figure it out. What were the stimuli associated with the manual +navigation problem?" + +"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--" + +"What stands out?" + +"The planet and the hum, I guess." + +"And how did the planet appear?" Bridget asked. + +"A point of light, you mean?" + +"And what does that add up to: a bright concentrated light source on +which you fix your attention and a monotonous hum?" + +"Not hypnotism!" + +Bridget shrugged. "A reasonable facsimile. Especially when you throw +mental fatigue in with it." + +"But you need a suggestion, I thought--" Grant was amazed. + +"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." + +Grant slapped his forehead. "What did I look like?" + +"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." + +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. + +"But I don't think I'm hypnotic," Grant protested. + +"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." + +"But why hasn't this happened elsewhere?" + +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." + +"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?" + +Bridget clapped her hands. "With exquisite pleasure." + +"And he--?" + +"... Got excited, phoned for engineering to remove navigational sights +and suggested I join the staff at the base." + +Grant coughed on the bread and hurriedly reached for his water. "He +wants you around?" + +"Gratitude, I guess, in his own brassy way." + +"And you'll stay?" + +"If Washington O.K.'s it, and I'm coaxed." + +"Then that simplifies the matter," he said and brought out the daintily +wrapped tiny gift box. "For you." + +Her eyes warmed and smiled as she said, "That's the kind of coaxing a +woman wants." + +Grant fumed, "Then you know what it is? Extrasensory perception or +something psychological?" + +Their hands met across the table and lingered. + +"Purely an emotional response," said Bridget. + + +THE END + +[Illustration] + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ 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. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Fine Fix, by R. C. 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