desk. "Andy, this is even worse than we had
feared."

Andy fumbled for a cigarette and Bettijean passed him a match. A
captain opened his mouth to speak, but the colonel shushed him.

"I've just come from Intelligence," the general said. "We haven't had
a report--nothing from our agents, from the Diplomatic Corps, from the
civilian newspapermen--not a word from any Iron Curtain country for a
day and half. Everybody's frantic. The last item we had--it was a
coded message the Reds'd tried to censor--was an indication of
something big in the works."

"A day and half ago," Andy mused. "Just about the time we knew we had
an epidemic. And about the time they knew it."

"It could be just propaganda," Bettijean said hopefully, "proving that
they could cripple us from within."

The general nodded. "Or it could be the softening up for an all-out
effort. Every American base in the world is alerted and every
serviceman is being issued live ammunition. If we're wrong, we've
still got an epidemic and panic that could touch it off. If we're
right ... well, we've got to know. What can you do?"

Andy dropped his haggard face into his hands. His voice came through
muffled. "I can sit here and cry." For an eternity he sat there,
futility piling on helplessness, aware of Bettijean's hand on his arm.
He heard the colonel try to speak and sensed the general's movement
that silenced him.

Suddenly he sat upright and slapped a palm down on the desk. "We'll
find your answers, sir. All we ask is co-operation."

The general gave both Andy and Bettijean a long, sober look, then
launched himself from the chair. Pivoting, he said, "Colonel, you and
your captains will be stationed by that switchboard out there. For the
duration of this emergency, you will take orders only from the
sergeant and the corporal here."

"But, general," the colonel wailed, "a noncom? I'm assigned--"

The general snorted. "Insubordination cannot be tolerated--unless you
find a two-star general to outrank me. Now, as I said before, let's
get out of here and let these people work."

* * * * *

The brass exited wordlessly. Bettijean sighed noisily. Andy found his
cigarette dead and lit another. He fancied a tiny lever in his brain
and he shifted gears to direct his thinking back into the proper
channel. Abruptly his fatigue began to lift. He picked up the new pile
of reports Bettijean had brought in.

She move around the desk and