put a
hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

Rick looked up in surprise. "I was getting out, sir."

"Stay put. I'm getting out. You're going for another ride."

He asked weakly, "Right now, sir?"

"No time like the present," Lipton said. He grinned. "How did you like
it?"

Rick returned the grin. "I guess you know the answer to that."

"I guess I do. It was a good flight, Rick. You only let your normal
habits get in the way twice, and you corrected fast both times. Keep
your helmet on now. I'll be talking to you from the blockhouse in five
minutes."

It was less than that. Apparently Dick Earle and the staff had the
control circuits warmed and ready.

Lipton's voice came through the phones. "Visual take-off, Rick. The
radar will pick you up at five hundred feet. I may overcontrol a little
until I'm used to the equipment, but don't let it bother you. Do not
take control yourself unless I give the word. There is one exception. If
we lose communication in anyway, take over at once and bring it in. Now,
repeat back."

"I will not take over controls, except on order from you. If
communications fail, I will assume control at once and land the plane."

"Correct. Now, switch on. Start 'er up."

Rick did so.

"Release all controls and sit back. I am now controlling."

"Roger. Controls are all yours."

Servomotors held the brakes and advanced the throttle. The plane turned
and taxied to the end of the runway. Rick sat there, trying not to feel
uneasy. Just the same, it was weird to realize that Jerry was handling
the plane from within the blockhouse.

"Take off. Here goes."

The roar increased and the plane picked up speed. Rick marveled as it
lifted smoothly and the wheels retracted. Then, almost before he
realized it, the plane had climbed and the earphones emitted, "I have
lost visual contact. You are now under control by radarscope."

The jet climbed rapidly, then started through a series of maneuvers.
Rick began to enjoy it. But the flight was almost over. "I'm bringing
you in," the pilot said.

The plane turned, leveled, and the throttle was retarded. The nose
dropped, in perfect alignment with the runway.

"You're off the scope and I have you on visual contact. Have faith, boy.
You're almost home."

Rick braced himself and waited for the shock of landing. There was none.
The jet skimmed along the runway, touched wheels, and settled so
smoothly he couldn't have said exactly when the plane