ront of Ishie.

"Now," she finished, "do I get my girlish curiosity satisfied? You
don't have to tell me. I'll just keep on being puzzled quietly and
without indicating the slightest magneto-ionic dubiousness, if you'd
rather. But I might be helpful; and I _would_ like to know."

"Confusion say," Ishie declared through the side of his mouth, "that
he who inadvertently puts big foot in mouth is apt to get teeth kicked
loose. We are very lucky, Mike, that it was Millie who asked the
question of the Cow at that time. Besides, we've got to tell somebody
sooner or later. We can't just run off by ourselves.

"Yes, Millie, I think you have a job," he said. "Your help here will
be appreciated, of course. But what we really need is a way of
bridging the gap between ourselves and the rest of the personnel
before it gets too wide. How's your P.R. these days?"

"That's something I learned in a hard school, public relations," she
answered nonchalantly. "De-segregation was just beginning when I was a
girl back in Georgia. But maybe I'd better know what the gap is."

* * * * *

The two began to talk, interrupting each other, incoherently
outlining the Confusor and the various forces it exerted, and
the--what Mike kept calling the inertial fish hook.

Finally Mike took over. "To put it simply," he said, "our pet didn't
do at all what we expected--it hooked in on inertia and it took us
off. A confusing little Confusor--but Millie--it's a space drive! A
real, honest-to-gosh space drive!"

Millie gulped. It was far, far more than she had expected. Perhaps
this was another form of disguise like the magneto-ionic....

"Are you sure?" Then she answered her own doubts. "Of course you're
telling the truth now. That's not something you two would play games
about." Then in awe--"You've really got it!"

"But why, then," she said, uncomprehending, "are you hiding it?" But
before they could answer, she answered her own question again. "You'd
have to. Of course. Otherwise it'll be strangled in red tape.
Otherwise nobody'll let you work on it any more, except as head of a
research team stuck off somewhere. Otherwise, Budget Control would
take it over and make a fifteen-year project out of it--and the two of
you will probably have it in practical operation...."

She looked at the molds and wiring taking form all across the machine
shop.

"Oh, no! You'll have it in operation--soon!"

"Yes, soon--and we hop