nd you flutter. Major, the first three hours
have been without direction from the base. For the next two, we're going
to ask you to perform certain patrol tasks, perhaps repeat them. The
process may not prove especially enjoyable. Your close cooeperation will
be appreciated."

"If this is all stuff we went through in training--" Grant sputtered.

"Some of it may be," Bridget's voice. "The fact it's distasteful may
make it the more significant. Are you ready to cooeperate?"

Grant nodded at the lens and screwed up his face in an exaggerated
frown.

Bridget's thoroughness called for admiration. She had him at the end of
a string, activating him from a plot taken directly from the pilot's
manual. He would cooeperate, but he was not enthusiastic.

As the exercises progressed, Grant detected subtle variations Bridget
had added to the basic maneuvers. On the tight starboard circle, for
instance, she had him keep his eyes on Earth, making him slightly dizzy.

Then she requested a free-fall drop from a stall with the provision he
this time place his attention on the instrument panel--"with no peeking
outside." He complied, watching the altimeter trace forty miles toward
the basement, and experienced effects no different than usual.

After a while, he came to consider it a game and might have gained
amusement from it, were it not for the tiredness creeping in behind his
eyes and the fact two dozen technicians somewhere down there were hoping
to trip a fatal, hidden synapse.

"How much more of this?" Grant transmitted finally.

"Getting tired?" Bridget replied, and paused for an answer.

"Let's say I don't feel like six sets of tennis."

"A few more, major, and we'll authorize your glide-in." If there was
disappointment in her voice, it did not manifest itself. "Your next
exercise is manual navigation with Jupiter as your fix."

* * * * *

Grant took down the figures she gave in acute disinterest. Boredom had
settled heavily over his outlook on the operation. No longer did it
matter that his facial reactions were being televised to the syk-happy
probers; and it made no difference to him any more that his every
breath, swallow, heart beat, tension, and sweat-secretion was magnified
by inky needles along moving rolls of paper.

His exercise target was a southwestern New Mexico town, and he swung
back from the Gulf area and coaxed the responsive craft until the planet
gleamed brightly i