"We want him and his team to come up with a nozzle lining. My guess is that the work would be about nine-tenths sheer math and then a little field work in New Mexico."
"Nozzle, eh." Julie put her elbows on the table, her chin on her folded hands. "Flame thrower? Garden hose?" she asked brightly.
"Rockets, Julie. Seems that V One and Two and the rest of their hive aren't mean enough."
Major Hall opened the booklet and hurried on. "We need a nozzle or nozzle lining that will stand the two or three second change from near zero to full blast temperatures. Frankly the long-range missile business is up a creek. It seems there's a limit to the range."
"Incandescence," Julie offered.
The major looked at her with new respect. "How'd you know? They go too far—they come down too fast. They burn up on reentering lower and denser air. We've got to slow up their approach somehow—anyhow."
"And I'll bet you're going to try using nose rockets to brake with," she mused. "Tried carborundum with pre-heating units?"
"No, we haven't, but.... How the hell—pardon me—did you guess about braking rockets?" The officer glowered suspiciously. "You doing work for the Navy?" He made a mild oath of the word.
Chuckling, Ed Wilkes put a soothing hand on the other's arm. "Hang on, Pete—simmer down. I told you we could use Julie. You see, weapons are her hobby. Check the library lists sometime. You'll find a sweet work there of hers dealing with every persuader from cross-bow to tommy gun."
"To say nothing of shillelagh, arbalest and stylet," she added modestly. "Nor of whinyard, haguebut and assagai."