Berg showed up a couple of days later, looking worried. Lancaster's vacation time was almost up. When he heard the news, his eyes snapped gleefully and he pumped the physicist's hand. "Good work, boy!"
"There are things to clean up yet," said Lancaster, "but it's all detail. Anybody can do it."
"And the material—what do you call it, anyway?"
Karen grinned. "So far, we've only named it ffuts," she said. "That's 'stuff' spelled backward."
"Okay, okay. It's easy to manufacture?"
"Sure. Now that we know how, anybody can make it in his own home—if he's handy at tinkering apparatus together."
"Fine, fine! Just what was needed. This is the ticket." Berg turned back to Lancaster. "Okay, boy, you can pack now. We blast again in a few hours."
The physicist shuffled his feet. "What are my chances of getting re-assigned back here?" he asked. "I've liked it immensely. And now that I know about it anyway—"
"I'll see. I'll see. But remember, this is top secret. You go back to your regular job and don't say a word on this to anyone less than the President—no matter what happens, understand?"
"Of course," snapped Lancaster, irritated. "I know my duty."