"And why?"
"There are plenty of rocket projects—so what if someone wants to try a space disk instead? Why would he tell all his scientists and technicians a pack of lies? There's no need for secrecy, for God's sake!"
"But—my gosh," protested Alan, "no one man could keep a thing like this from all the rest of us. There must be ten or twenty who know. And details like these, the fuel tanks and instruments, they can't be hidden from anybody!"
"So where does it lead us?"
"Up a narrow, dank, and ill-smelling blind alley," said Brave.
"Not so bl—"
There was a detonation outside the lab; a harsh, clangorous thunderclap of a sound, like the bursting of a bomb full of wash tubs and anchor chains. The three men were dashing for the door before the reverberations had died away.
A disk had crashed on the airfield. Brave and Alan and Don piled into a jeep and raced down toward it.
"I didn't know they had any ready for use," Alan shouted.