"A euphemism, of course," said Webb. "Because they will fall much like a bomb does. But they will not explode! No, they will land, rifles in hand, ready to take over the enemy territory." "Without parachutes?" Whitlow marveled. "Exactly," said the general, leading the way out into the blinding desert sunlight. "You see," he remarked, as they strolled toward the heat-shimmering outlines of the reviewing stand, its bunting hanging limp and faded in the dry, breezeless air, "it's really so simple I'm astonished the enemy didn't think of it first. Though, of course, I'm glad they didn't-- Ha! ha!" He oozed self-appreciation. "Ha ha," repeated Whitlow, with little enthusiasm. "When one is whirled at one gravity, you see, the wall--the outside rim--of the Whirligig, becomes the floor for the men inside. Each day, they have spent up to ten hours doing nothing but deep knee-bends, and eating high protein foods. Their legs will be able to withstand _any_ force of landing. If they can do deep knee-bends at thirty gravities--during which, of course, each of them weighed nearly three tons--they can jump from any height and survive. Good, huh?" * * * * * Whitlow was worried as they clambered up into the stands. There seemed to be no one about but the two of them. "Who else is coming?" he asked. "Just us," said Webb. "I'm the only one with a clearance high enough to watch this. You're only here because you're _my_ guest." "But--" said Whitlow, observing the heat-baked wide-open spaces extending on all sides of the reviewing stand and bull's-eye, "the men on this base can surely watch from almost anywhere not beyond the horizon." "They'd _better_ not!" was the general's only comment. "Well," said Whitlow, "what happens now?" "The men that were in that Whirligig have--since you and I went to my office to chat--been transported to the airfield, from which point they were taken aloft--" he consulted his watch, "five minutes, and fifty-five-point-six seconds ago." "And?" asked Whitlow, casually unbuckling the straps of his brief case and slipping out his sandwich. "The plane will be within bomb vector of this target in just ten seconds!" said Webb, confidently. Whitlow listened, for the next nine seconds, then, right on schedule, he heard the muted droning of a plane, high up. Webb joggled him with an elbow. "They'll fall faster than any known enemy weapon can track them," he said, smugly. "That's fortunate," said Whitlow, munching desultorily at his sandwich. "Bud dere's wud thig budduhs bee." "Hmmf?" asked the general. Whitlow swallowed hastily. "I say, there's one thing bothers me." "What's that?" asked the general. "Well, it's just that gravity is centripetal, you know, and the Whirligig is centrifugal. I wondered if it might not make some sort of difference?" "Bah!" said General Webb. "Just a minor detail." "If you say so," Whitlow shrugged. "There they come!" shouted the general, jumping to his feet.