Not in Solitude

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THE RADAR alert buzzer snarled softly in the confined observation deck. Its periodic alto grunting was tuned low, but after a night and a day of waiting, it had the shocking effect of steam on a raw burn.

Neglecting his discarded heavy footgear, Dane got up from the chart table and went light-bodied to the observation ports. The night already crowded black against the guard-lighted sand a hundred feet below. Except in the east where the spark fires danced.

A dazzling finger of light stabbed suddenly from the space craft into the northeast. It probed delicately in azimuth at long range, paling the sweeping patrol beam that swung periodically around a lower horizon in obedience to the one-minute rotation of its mounting. Dane stared through the wide glassite port.

Binoculars, he thought, and turned away to reach for his case. He looked at Airman First Class Humphries, intent upon the auxiliary radar screen. “What do you read?” he demanded, excitement bubbling in his voice.

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