The Chief nodded slowly. "I didn't believe it at first, either. But our technicians assured me it could happen. You see, the missiles had been given the most perfect feedback device ever developed. It could--virtually--think for itself certainly to the limit of the data it had been supplied with and apparently--beyond that limit. On their own volition, the Free World's and the Enemy's missiles blasted off. Destination and purpose--unknown. Taylor, don't you see what this means? We don't merely have an enemy group of nations to fight. We have, as a new enemy, remorseless, implacable machinery! Brains without conscience! The greatest destructive force the world has ever known, capable of utterly destroying the human race, without a moral sense! Don't you see it, man? They've blasted off and are waiting in space somewhere. Those missiles are capable of extra-earthly flight. They are staging out there, waiting. Can't you picture it? Their brains, groping with new sentience, understanding only that their mission is destruction but somehow they have not been unleashed on it yet, not knowing why, deciding to fulfill their destiny by blasting off, staging, then coming back to destroy human civilization...." "It's a fantastic picture," Taylor agreed. "But why tell me?" Taylor was a trouble-shooter extraordinary in these days of quick decisions and billion dollar mistakes. His very prompt assessment of a situation was one of his most valuable traits in such a job. "Because," said the Chief quietly, "you're going to find them and find out exactly what they want." "Me? But how--how do you know where--" "That's easy. One of the Everglades Missiles is in the repair bays. It was undergoing extensive overhaul, when all the missiles blasted off simultaneously. It is now almost ready for blastoff itself. When it goes--and we assume it will go exactly where the others went--you will be aboard." Several hours later Taylor had been whisked by jet to the Everglades Staging Grounds and was stowed away in the belly of the single I.C.B.M. left to the Free World. He went weaponless. Under the circumstances, there didn't seem to be any weapon which would be of the slightest help. * * * * * One hour after Taylor entered it, the missile was returned to its launching rack. Twenty minutes after that, as had been anticipated, it blasted off as the others had--destination, unknown. Taylor had been hastily supplied with a pressure suit and several spare tanks of compressed oxygen, as well as instruments that could read his position in the atmosphere--or deep space. As far as he knew, Taylor became the first man to enter deep space, but there were other things of graver consequence on his mind, and he hardly noted the fact. Several hours after blastoff, the missile landed on the moon.