Had something come out of it?
Descending from the car, he approached a group of men standing near the object. A short, heavy-set major general who appeared to be in command turned sharp, suspicious eyes toward him.
"What are you doing here?"
Winthrop introduced himself. The general's suspicion vanished and he clasped the younger man's hand warmly.
"I'm Bert Hill, Winthrop. I heard of your work from Benton Allan. He's a close personal friend."
"Of mine, too," Winthrop nodded. "Haven't seen him since Nevada."
"He's flying up from Los Alamos," Hill said. "Many of your colleagues are coming—everyone who might conceivably be useful."
"Any sign of life?" Winthrop asked, gesturing toward the cylinder.
"No. There's a port amidships, and some small apertures forward. But it might as well be a coffin! Why don't you look it over? But perhaps you'd like to get comfortable and have breakfast first. We've set up a temporary mess kitchen in the City Building."
"Thanks, General Hill."