sibility, 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