son. Go right in."

"Right through here," the colonel said.

Walt and Julia followed.

He opened the door, and they issued into the conference room. Talking
broke off; faces swung to confront them.

"Gentlemen," the colonel said, "this is the girl, and this--this is the
man from the space station."

The audience around the table rustled.

"You'll sit right here," the colonel told them. He helped Julia to her
chair. When they were both seated, the colonel withdrew.

Chairs scraped and squeaked.

One of the men across from Julia cleared his throat. He was in civilian
clothes. He was slightly stooped and partly bald. He wiped his glasses
nervously. "We would like a demonstration of your--your, um, um unusual
propensities." He adjusted his glasses.

The glasses disengaged themselves from his ears and floated toward
Julia. Julia stood up and walked through the table toward them.

She reached out. Both she and the glasses vanished.

One of the general officers made a check mark on his note book. "I'd say
our report is substantially correct."

The other civilian in the room, a youngish blonde woman, lit another
cigarette. The ash tray before her was overflowing. Her fingers were
nicotine stained. "Very extraordinary."

Julia materialized back in her chair. She replaced the glasses.

The conferees began to whisper softly.

The blonde nodded her head. She turned to Julia. "About this space
station--"

"This is Doctor Helen Norvel," one of the general officers told Julia.

Dr. Norvel ignored him. "Is there some way we could detect it?"

"I'd like to try to explain the nature of the distortion field
surrounding it to a physicist."

"Dr. Norvel," someone said, "is one of our better experimental
physicists."

"Oh?"

"Gentlemen," Dr. Norvel said, "let me talk to her in the next room while
you question this man."

The bald civilian said, "Go right ahead, Doctor."

The doctor stood up. Lighting another cigarette, she said, "We'll go
right in there, if you don't mind."

Julia got to her feet.

When they had gone, a lieutenant sitting beside the civilian looked up
from a sheaf of papers in front of him. "Walt Johnson, isn't it?"

Walt gulped. He felt clammy and frightened.

"I'm supposed to interrogate you--ask you some questions."

"All, all right," Walt said nervously.

"Now, Mr. Johnson, if you'll just tell us--take it slowly; take your
time--about life on this space station. Any details you can r