two minutes for initial
point five hundred miles on his tail."

"Right, Johnny. One sixty-five, then two minutes." He set the timer,
advanced the throttle to 4 G's, and stepped back an inch as the
acceleration took him snugly into the cradle. The Return-To-Station-Fuel
and Relative-Velocity-To-Station gauges did their usual double takes on
a change of course, as the ship computer recorded the new information.
He liked those two gauges--the two old ladies.

Mrs. RSF kept track of how much more fuel they had than they needed to
get home. When they were moving away from station, she dropped in
alarmed little jumps, but when they were headed home, she inched along
in serene contentment, or if they were coasting, sneaked triumphantly
back up the dial.

Mrs. RVS started to get jittery at about ten mps away from home, and
above fifteen, she was trembling steadily. He didn't blame the old
ladies for worrying. With one hour of fuel at 5 G's, you didn't fire a
single squirt unless there was a good reason for it. Most of their time
on a mission was spent free wheeling, in the anxiety-laden boredom that
fighting men have always known.

_Wish the Red was coming in across our course._ It would have taken less
fuel, and the chase wouldn't have taken them so far out. But then they'd
probably have been spotted, and lost the precious element of surprise.

He blessed the advantage of better radar. In this crazy "war," so like
the dogfights of the first world war, the better than two hundred mile
edge of American radar was more often than not the margin of victory.
The American crews were a little sharper, a little better trained, but
with their stripped down ships, and midget crewmen, with no personal
safety equipment, the Reds could accelerate longer and faster, and go
farther out. You had to get the jump on them, or it was just too bad.

The second hand hit forty-five in its third cycle, and he stood loose in
the cradle as the power died.

_Sixty-two combat missions but the government says there's no war._ His
mind wandered back over eight years in the service. Intelligence tests.
Physical tests. Psychological tests. Six months of emotional adjustment
in the screep. Primary training. Basic and advanced training. The pride
and excitement of being chosen for space fighters. By the time he
graduated, the United States and Russia each had several satellite
stations operating, but in 1979, the United States had won the race for
a pe