In front of him the ground gave way. A ravine. Fully twelve to fifteen feet across. Tom looked down into the abyss. It was deep and dark, its rocky sides virtually perpendicular.
Trapped, he ran a little way along the gorge, first one way, then the other. There was nowhere to cross. The ravine cut across the mesa in both directions.
He stopped and turned toward the oncoming men. There was a wild fire in his eyes — and terrified, uncomprehending despair in his face. His stance was wary and taut.
Ward saw Tom stop. He slowed his run. Deliberately he began to walk toward the petrified figure.
“Tom!” he called soothingly. “Don't run away. We want to help you.”
Slowly the three men moved in.
Close enough to see Tom's face, Ward was deeply shocked. He could see Tom was badly hurt — but he could find no glimmer of recognition or reason in his distraught face.
Tom's eyes moved rapidly from one to another of the slowly approaching men. Like a cornered dog, he backed away from them, never taking his eyes from them — nearer and nearer the ravine behind him.
He stopped, his eyes wild with desperation. He was at the edge of the steep chasm. Trapped…
He threw a quick glance down into the abyss. His eyes flitted toward the opposite rim — so far away…
The three men steadily, cautiously advanced toward him, Ward keeping up a continuous soothing monologue. “Easy, Tom easy… Don't be afraid… We're your friends… We want to help… Tom — listen to me… Easy… Easy…”
He watched the terror-stricken figure crouched tensely before him. Almost. Another few feet. They'd get him back to the Base hospital at once for medical treatment… Another few feet…
Suddenly Tom burst into action. He whirled around, took a short run and, with the reckless effort born of panic, leaped out over the gaping void, arms stretched out for the far edge. He thudded into the hard, rocky brink — hanging over the rim. He began to slip. He dug his fingers into the rough ground, his legs desperately searching for a foothold.
Slowly he pulled himself up. Never having uttered a sound, he looked back across the ravine at the three men standing shocked and bewildered on the other side, staring at him in stunned silence.
Wilson looked wide-eyed at the figure of Tom huddled on the ground across the crevasse.
“Man,” he breathed, deeply awed. “Did you see that?” He asked the question of no one. “He jumped that ravine like a — like a big cat.”
“He could have killed himself,” Hays said, shaken. “He sure could. Easy…”
On the far side Tom got up. Without a glance back, he trotted off — disappearing among the rocks.
Wilson stared after him, his face thoughtful.
“I wouldn't have believed it,” he whispered. “If I hadn't seen it. No, sir… It — it couldn't be done…”
4
A1C Carole Goodman was bored. She had hoped for a more glamorous job when she had been assigned to the Flight Test Center, and she was not too charmed with her present duties at the Message Center at Edwards, routine — and mostly dull at that. She glanced at the teletype machine as it began to clatter, expecting another routine message — but the words being typed out on the machine brought her instantly to attention.
URGENT URGENT URGENT
PERSONAL FROM CHIEF OF STAFF
TO COMMANDER AIR FORCE FLIGHT TEST CENTER
EDWARDS AFB
She turned toward a non-com sitting at a desk. “Sergeant,” she called. “Take a look at this!”
The non-com joined her at the teletype. The message continued.
MAJOR DARBY F-15 CRASH EXTREMELY REPEAT
EXTREMELY SENSITIVE DUE MARCUS XM-9 TEST.
IMPERATIVE
The Sergeant quickly strode to his desk. He picked up the phone. “Get me General Ryan's office,” he said. “Urgent!”
The teletype machine fell silent. The message was finished. A1C Goodman tore it off and immediately prepared it for delivery.
Three sober-faced men were facing General Ryan as he stood in his office, the teletype message in his hand: Dr. Theodor Marcus; the Test Flight Director, a light colonel; and Colonel Howell. Ryan was reading the message to them.
“ ‘—imperative ascertain cause of accident at once. Use procedures appropriate to situation as determined by officer in the field. Project vital, repeat vital to national security. Keep advising.’ ” He looked up at the men standing before him. “It is signed: ‘Warfield, General USAF, Chief of Staff.’ ”
He looked from one to the other. “Have you any idea of what went wrong up there?” he asked. “Colonel Harnum?” He addressed the Flight Test Director, the man Marcus knew as Control One. Marcus glanced at the man. So that was his name. He'd have to try and remember.
Colonel Harnum shook his head. “It happened at the instant the XM-9 was fired, sir.” He frowned. “We don't know what happened… It may have been the laser activator. Or one of the pressure tanks. It could be one of a thousand factors. We just don't know yet. We had trouble with the telemetry. I haven't had a full report on that as yet. I don't know the full extent of the malfunction.”
“Can we rule out sabotage?” Ryan asked.
Harnum looked soberly at the General. “Sir,” he said. He sounded subdued. “At the moment we can rule out nothing.”
Ryan nodded. He turned to Marcus. “Dr. Marcus?”
Theodor Marcus had been crushed with disappointment when the accident occurred. But the recuperative powers of his inquisitive spirit had not diminished with the years. He spoke firmly.
“I should be able to come up with some answers once I get the XM-9 mechanism from the wreckage. I understand it lies in a pretty inaccessible spot. I should like to get it as soon as it is retrieved.” He shrugged. “Until then — anything I can say would be pure guesswork. I just hope we get there before some curiosity-seekers bent on collecting souvenirs.” He thought for a moment. “And, of course, it is absolutely imperative that I debrief Major Darby as quickly as possible.”
Ryan looked at Howell. “Jon? Where do we stand now?”
Howell looked uncomfortable — and he was. It was not a state of affairs he was used to, and he didn't like it.
“The plane pretty much disintegrated in the air;” he said. He looked grim. “The wreckage is scattered all through the damned mountains. The Combat Mobility Forces haven't as yet located any main impact area. Or — areas, for that matter. As soon as they do, we'll cordon them off with Security Police.”
He glanced at Marcus.
“I echo Dr. Marcus’ concern,” he said gravely. “There are hikers and climbers all through the crash area. We can only hope nobody runs across any — vital piece of equipment before we do… It's happened that way before.”
Ryan nodded.
Howell went on, “As for the status of the search-and-rescue operation,” he said, “we've only had preliminary reports. As you know, General, they have had some — eh, trouble getting to Major Darby.”
Ryan nodded. He turned to Marcus and Harnum. “Thank you,” he said. “That will be all.”
The two men left.
Ryan studied Howell. “What the hell is going on out there, Jon?”
“I don't know the details yet. It seems Darby is — evading, actively evading the rescue team. And he is injured. It is not known how seriously. I'm waiting for Major Ward's detailed report.”
Ryan frowned in thought. He looked at the teletype message in his hand. He walked to his desk and placed the paper in a folder. He looked at Howell.