"Say it again," returned the general. "We thought we were bad when we let one out of five hundred slip through to you. This, remember, was one out of one. Period. If they use 'em in quantity—and I see no reason why the devils won't—I can see a good record all shot to pieces."
"Where's it headed?"
"According to the course-calc, it should be hitting Mojave most any minute."
"Well, I'd better get on it," said Lindsay. "May I contact you later?"
"Do so, by all means," said the general, signing off. "We can't permit things like this to happen. I won't hang my head in shame at one per cent missed, but when one hundred per cent of a shipment runs through, I'm scared."
Lindsay mumbled an agreement and then clicked the switch to another line. That would be quicker than juggling the hook for communications central. The new line came in immediately and Lindsay dialed a number.
It rang.
Lindsay waited.
And a sleepy voice answered: "Roberts."
"Lindsay, Jim. We've another one. Haynes just called. Heading for Mojave, should be arriving pretty soon."