5. Make frequent checks of gas, oil and radiator water.
6. Keep tires at normal pressure.
7. Shift to low gear on all grades.
8. Watch car temperature gauge.
9. Carry cloth to wet and wrap around fuel pump in case of vapor lock.
10. Stay with your car in case of breakdown.
He stared at the printed page. Ten commandments. For Tom, he thought bitterly, they could all be lumped into one.
Survive!
Any way you can…
The telephone on Stark's desk rang. Ward answered it. He looked at Paul. “It's for Howell,” he said. “General Ryan's office.”
Paul turned to the young Ranger. “Adams,” he said, “see if you can catch him.”
Ranger Adams hurried from the office. In less than a minute be returned with Howell. The Colonel picked up the phone.
“Colonel Howell,” he said. He listened.
Paul watched him expectantly. Perhaps they'd seen the light, he thought. Perhaps the General was giving the green light to go all out.
“Yes, sir,” Howell was saying. “I'll take off at once.” He hung up.
“I'm flying down to Edwards,” he said. “Carry on.”
Quickly be left the office.
An hour later he stood in the office of General Clifford Ryan, staring in grim disbelief at the Test Flight Commander and Dr. Marcus. He had not thought it possible that the situation could deteriorate any further.
It had.
Ryan had shown him a top-secret directive from the Pentagon. Unless the test malfunction and crash problems were solved within three days and the Marcus device as a result definitely was proved totally without danger to the population — the XM-9 project would be discontinued!
A small group of Senators and Congressmen, known for their opposition to any armament projects, had gotten wind of the XM-9 test and the crash of the F-15. They had presented their ultimatum to the Secretary of Defense before going public and informing a press and public — still skittish from the nuclear near-catastrophe at Three Mile Island — of this new “possible danger.” Dr. Marcus’ assurances that there could be no possible danger to any U.S. citizen resulting from the XM-9 tests had fallen on unresponsive ears. The same assurances had been given by the nuclear proponents. The Secretary had been hard pressed to persuade the legislators to give him the three-day grace period. They would sit on it that long — and no longer!
Marcus looked stricken. “Forgive me, Colonel Howell, for repeating myself,” he said disconsolately, “but Tom Darby is the only one who can help us now. There is no other possible way.”
Howell nodded, his face troubled.
“I know you understand, Jon,” Ryan said, the gravity of the developments showing in his voice. “If we're forced to scrap the XM-9 as we've been forced to scrap other projects in the past — instead of having an edge, we'll be back in the hole. Instead of an advantage in this damned power-balance game, we'll be handed a setback. A setback we can ill afford.” He looked at Howell. “Find him, Jon. Alive.”
“Any change in procedure?” Howell asked hopefully.
Ryan shook his head. “I wish to God I could give you the whole Base,” he said. “But I can't. The matter is still highly sensitive. The word is still — caution… or we'd be doing the publicizing ourselves.”
Howell nodded. In other words, he thought cynically, Run faster, but tie your legs together.
3
Paul had deployed his search teams, integrating their sectors with those covered by Stark's Rangers. On the map it had looked as if they would be able to cover in their first sweep a pitifully small area of the vast Death Valley.
He was driving the USAF scout himself, with Randi in the seat next to him. Sergeant Hays sat in the back with the compact radio equipment. The heat of the day was building rapidly — it promised to be another scorcher.
He sat in silence. He felt resentful and uncomfortable. It was not his way. A problem had to be out in the open, not kept in. He pulled over. He turned back to Hays.
“Sergeant,” he said gruffly, “get lost for a moment.”
Hays looked at him. If he was surprised, it didn't show. “Yes, sir,” he said evenly. He climbed out of the scout and walked off a short distance.
Paul turned to Randi. “Listen, Randi,” he said, his voice harsher than he had intended, “I might as well be blunt with you. I want you to know you're here over my objections.”
Randi listened in grim silence.
“It wasn't my brainchild for you to tag along,” Paul went on. “I think it's a piss-poor idea. It's not going to be a picnic up here.”
“I am well aware of that,” Randi said firmly. “I'm not here to have a picnic.”
“It's going to be damned rough, for crissake! No place for a woman.”
“I want to help.”
“This is my job, Randi. And I know my job. There's nothing you can do here that I can't do.”
For a moment Randi looked at him, her eyes steady. “Let me be blunt, too, Paul. I think there is. And I'm here to do whatever I can. I'm here to stay. Regardless of what you can or cannot do. I expect no preferential treatment. I want you to treat me exactly as you would anyone else on your search teams. But that includes using me when I can be useful. Is that understood? I'll keep up with you or you can send me back.”
For a moment he stared at her. Then he snapped: “You got it!”
He motioned for Hays, and the Sergeant came back and climbed into the scout.
With an angry jerk the little vehicle started up and took off.
They were driving slowly through the mountains on a narrow dirt road. Ahead of them rose a ridge of weirdly shaped, beautifully colored rock formations. Paul stopped. With his field glasses be searched the hill. Baked mud, sand and rocks in a profusion of different pastel hues burned into them by eons of blazing sun — huge splashes of green, red, purple, golden yellow, brown and black — the hillside was a riot of color in the broiling, forbidding wasteland. He felt discouraged. They would need a hell of a lot more than their share of luck to spot Tom in this labyrinth of buttes and bluffs, gulches and gullies that made up the freaky scenery. He hated it for that — no matter bow spectacular it was.
He drove on. Perhaps a higher vantage point would offer better possibilities. Zabriskie Point. It overlooked a large part of the valley.
He turned to Hays. “Radio the Ranger truck in our sector,” he said. “Have them meet us at Zabriskie Point. We should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Roger.” Hays at once began to make contact…
Tom was making his way through a shallow gully up into the eroded foothills. He was looking for a place of shade where he could rest, away from the noisy, frightening monsters he had observed tearing along the hard desert ribbons below, spewing raucous, rumbling sounds into the hushed silence of the yellow sands. The climb and the heat had fatigued him. His injured head pounded and his legs had grown leaden. He stopped and looked around. There was no shelter to be seen. The hillsides arched around him were bare.
He raised his sweaty face and squinted apprehensively up at the blazing sun suspended in the naked sky high above. Its scorching rays beat mercilessly down on him — and on the sun-baked land.
Drops of moisture ran from his forehead into his eyes. He wiped it away. He looked at it with curiosity. He licked it off his hand. The taste was unpleasant. He worked his mouth to get rid of it. It did not lessen his growing thirst. He trudged on…