Ed swiveled around and flicked a switch on an office-to-office phone. "Worked with me before the war on the argon-valve gimmick." "The what?" "A widget to help stabilize thiotimoline," he obliged with bland level gaze. "Oh." Wilkes jiggled the switch again. "Hello, Doc Mosby? Wilkes. Got something that might interest you. Wouldst cross the hall and look in? Swell." He hung up. "You'll like Mosby, Pete. Smart as hell. Awful nice to work with too. We've both got classes this summer." The door opened and a handsome woman came in, an expectant questioning tilt to the dark wings of her brows. She was in her middle thirties, her bright blond hair tucked into a trim bun, and wore a severely tailored linen suit that almost managed to hide an interesting body. "Julie, this is Major Peter Hall. He sat out part of the war with me at Wright Field. Pete, Doctor Julie Mosby. Chair of Physics, builder of vigorous martinis and good guy." * * * * * The Major scrambled to his feet and took the cool hand she offered him. "Well, he_llo_! I can see why Ed left Northwestern." "You drafting him? I hope not." She looked from Major Hall to Wilkes to the booklet before them. "What gives?" "Pete here," said Wilkes as they seated themselves, "bears gifts and assorted tidings. I want you to hear his yarn." "Well...." Major Hall picked up the document and ahemed. "Special Testing and Materials needs a job done. I thought Ed was the man for it, so they sent me down to talk things over. "The prize is a calculator we'll install and leave here and--" Julie's dark eyes sparkled. "Lawd, Ed! Sign up quick. A calculator! I can see next fall's catalogue now. It'll jump enrollment thirty percent at the very least." "Yeah," said Wilkes cautiously. "That it might. But hear the soldier man out." "We want him and his team to come up with a nozzle lining. My guess is that the work would be about nine-tenths sheer math and then a little field work in New Mexico." "Nozzle, eh." Julie put her elbows on the table, her chin on her folded hands. "Flame thrower? Garden hose?" she asked brightly. "Rockets, Julie. Seems that V One and Two and the rest of their hive aren't mean enough." Major Hall opened the booklet and hurried on. "We need a nozzle or nozzle lining that will stand the two or three second change from near zero to full blast temperatures. Frankly the long-range missile business is up a creek. It seems there's a limit to the range." "Incandescence," Julie offered. The major looked at her with new respect. "How'd you know? They go too far--they come down too fast. They burn up on reentering lower and denser air. We've got to slow up their approach somehow--anyhow." "And I'll bet you're going to try using nose rockets to brake with," she mused. "Tried carborundum with pre-heating units?"