"A moment," a voice said. He waited.
"Commander, we've bad news for you." It was Gotch's voice, a rasp coming over a great distance.
"The S-two reports a rocket being tracked by radar. ComSoPac's picked it up. It's on intercept course."
Crag's thoughts raced. The S-two was the satelloid's code name. "Any idea what kind?"
"Probably a sub-launched missile—riding a beam right to you. Or the drone," he added. He was silent for a second. "Well, we sort of expected this might happen, Commander. It's a tough complication."
A helluva lot of good that does, Crag thought. What next? Another set of pilots, more indoctrination, new rockets, another zero hour. Gotch would win the moon if he had to use the whole Air Force. He said, "Well, it's been a nice trip, so far."
"Get Prochaska on the scope."
"He's on and ... hold it." The Chief was making motions toward the scope. "No, it's the satelloid. He's—"
Gotch broke in with more data. Then it was there.
"He's got it," Crag announced. Gotch was silent. He watched the analog. All three pips were visible. The satelloid was still above them, rushing in, fast. The interceptor was lower to the northwest, cutting into their path. He thought it was the Drone Able story all over again. Only this time it wasn't a supply rocket. It was a warhead, a situation they couldn't control.