"Shiela, wait!" Don called but to no avail; she vanished from sight. He sank slowly to the grass, brow wrinkled in perplexity. It was understandable, of course, that recent events should have upset her, but why the sudden outburst just now? He wondered if she'd been let down by his lack of response to her wild suggestion?
Idly conjecturing, he was about to again sink to the ground when an alarm bell rang and voices began shouting. Thinking that it might be an attack by the roboes on the nerve center of their opposition, he leaped to his feet. A soldier came running up. "Sir," he gasped, "You're wanted in the conference room immediately."
Again it was the same group; Dr. Stone; the Under-Secretary with a worried frown; a raging General Adams, and several aides. The Under-Secretary noted his arrival with nothing more than tightened lips as he announced, "I have just been informed that the only two space ships in existence have been stolen by the roboes."
"Stolen!" exclaimed Stone.
"Impossible," objected Don; "they'd have to be flown away and the fuel hasn't yet been produced."
"You're wrong, as usual," snapped the general. "They were loaded with ordinary rocket fuel for testing purposes and blasted off."
"Were they tracked?" inquired Dr. Stone, anxiously. "Why the loss of the two ships will set us back at least five years in space exploration."
"They were tracked, but they flew low over the Pacific and were lost," snapped the general. "Missiles are ready even now so that if they attempt to escape into space they'll be instantly destroyed."
"Where could they conceivably have gone to, General?" asked the Under-Secretary.