Nobody paid any attention to him. There was nobody left around. In a way it was a relief, because McCauley had experienced much too much attention once upon a time, and he wanted no more of it. He'd done a job in an Aerobee once, and now he was to try something in an X-21 that a lot of people would have liked to try in his place. He preferred not to be reminded of either thing. So quite uncomplainingly he trudged across the sun-baked flat ground toward the base buildings. All around there was astounding flatness. The low hills that rose at the far side of this dry lakebed were conspicuous here, whereas in more rolling country they'd never be noticed. There was a row of hangars. McCauley picked one out with his eyes and guessed that the new ship might be inside it. He reached the building behind the flagpole and shifted his bag from one hand to the other. He went in, mopping his forehead as the door closed behind him and the sharp chill of air conditioning hit him. He went to report in. The CO wasn't around. He was over in Laurelton, the town where most of the men went when they got a pass. The OD was off somewhere. But quarters had been assigned to Major McCauley. The noncom in charge of the CO's office obligingly got up to show him the way. "Any orders for me?" asked McCauley. "I don't suppose I'm supposed to sit and twiddle my thumbs." The noncom looked at a file and said there weren't any. "It doesn't look too lively around here," said McCauley, "I'm supposed to have an interest in the X-21. Could I take a look at her?" The noncom did a double take. "Oh," he said politely. "You're that Major McCauley! I should have realized it, sir. The X-21, sir, is in the big hangar down that way. Number seven. If you tell the sentry who you are he'll pass you in, sir. Of course. Take-off's tomorrow noon, sir, and everything's ready. But I'd better show you your quarters first, sir." McCauley blinked. He felt embarrassed, and he felt a distinct sense of shock. He was embarrassed because he'd had to mention the X-21 and who he was, as if he were pushing his weight around. The shock was the take-off for tomorrow. He'd known nothing about it. He picked up his bag and waited to be shown his quarters. He followed the noncom down silent halls with specklessly polished floors. He entered the room assigned to him. It had tan plasterboard walls and an iron bunk, and Venetian blinds to shut out the desolate outer world. It was exactly like all other bachelor officers' quarters everywhere in the world. McCauley should have felt at home. He didn't. "Just a minute," he said carefully, as the noncom was about to leave. "You said take-off's tomorrow?"