For a moment habit almost fouled him up again, as he waited for the plane to "sell out," then he remembered that he had to fly it in. With an anxious eye on his air-speed indicator he gave it a little more throttle, then felt the struts compress as the wheels hit. He chopped the throttle and tried out the brakes with tender care. He didn't intend to flip them over through carelessness now. Gradually he brought the jet to a halt, reset flaps, and then rolled the plane back to their starting point. After he had killed the engine he just sat there, too limp to move. Then, slowly, and with vast relief, he started to get up. Jerry Lipton, who had climbed out on the wing, reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?" Rick looked up in surprise. "I was getting out, sir." "Stay put. I'm getting out. You're going for another ride." He asked weakly, "Right now, sir?" "No time like the present," Lipton said. He grinned. "How did you like it?" Rick returned the grin. "I guess you know the answer to that." "I guess I do. It was a good flight, Rick. You only let your normal habits get in the way twice, and you corrected fast both times. Keep your helmet on now. I'll be talking to you from the blockhouse in five minutes." It was less than that. Apparently Dick Earle and the staff had the control circuits warmed and ready. Lipton's voice came through the phones. "Visual take-off, Rick. The radar will pick you up at five hundred feet. I may overcontrol a little until I'm used to the equipment, but don't let it bother you. Do not take control yourself unless I give the word. There is one exception. If we lose communication in anyway, take over at once and bring it in. Now, repeat back." "I will not take over controls, except on order from you. If communications fail, I will assume control at once and land the plane." "Correct. Now, switch on. Start 'er up." Rick did so. "Release all controls and sit back. I am now controlling." "Roger. Controls are all yours." Servomotors held the brakes and advanced the throttle. The plane turned and taxied to the end of the runway. Rick sat there, trying not to feel uneasy. Just the same, it was weird to realize that Jerry was handling the plane from within the blockhouse. "Take off. Here goes." The roar increased and the plane picked up speed. Rick marveled as it lifted smoothly and the wheels retracted. Then, almost before he realized it, the plane had climbed and the earphones emitted, "I have lost visual contact. You are now under control by radarscope." The jet climbed rapidly, then started through a series of maneuvers. Rick began to enjoy it. But the flight was almost over. "I'm bringing you in," the pilot said. The plane turned, leveled, and the throttle was retarded. The nose dropped, in perfect alignment with the runway. "You're off the scope and I have you on visual contact. Have faith, boy. You're almost home."