He was already cut off from mankind, imprisoned in a small room with the momentous zero hour drawing steadily nearer. Strange, he thought, there had been a time when his career had seemed ended, washed up, finished, the magic of the stratosphere behind him for good. Sure, he'd resigned from the Air Force at his own free will, even if his C. O. had made the pointed suggestion. Because he hadn't blindly followed orders. Because he'd believed in making his own decisions when the chips were down. "Lack of _esprit de corps_," his C. O. had termed it. He'd been surprised that night--it was over a year ago now--that Colonel Gotch had contacted him. (Just when he was wondering where he might get a job. He hadn't liked the prosaic prospects of pushing passengers around the country in some jet job.) Sure, he'd jumped at the offer. But the question had never left his mind. _Why had Gotch selected him?_ The Aztec, a silver needle plunging through space followed by her drones, all in his tender care. He was planning the step-by-step procedure of take-off when sleep came. CHAPTER 2 Crag woke with a start, sensing he was not alone. The sound came again--a key being fitted into a lock. He started from bed as the door swung open. "Easy. It's me--Gotch." Crag relaxed. A square solid figure took form. "Don't turn on the light." "Okay. What gives?" "One moment." Gotch turned back toward the door and beckoned. Another figure glided into the room--a shadow in the dim light. Crag caught the glint of a uniform. Air Force officer, he thought. Gotch said crisply; "Out of bed." He climbed out, standing alongside the bed in his shorts, wondering at the Colonel's cloak-and-dagger approach. "Okay, Major, it's your turn," Gotch said. The newcomer--Crag saw he was a major--methodically stripped down to his shorts and got into bed without a word. Crag grinned, wondering how the Major liked his part in Step One. It was scarcely a lead role. Gotch cut into his thoughts. "Get dressed." He indicated the Major's uniform. Crag donned the garments silently. When he had finished the Colonel walked around him in the dark, studying him from all angles. "Seems to fit very well," he said finally. "All right, let's go." Crag followed him from the room wondering what the unknown Major must be thinking. He wanted to ask about his double but refrained. Long ago he had learned there was a time to talk, and a time to keep quiet. This was the quiet time. At the outer door four soldiers sprang from the darkness and boxed them in. A chauffeur jumped from a waiting car and opened the rear door. At the last moment Crag stepped aside and made a mock bow. "After you, Colonel." His voice held a touch of sarcasm.