When he put his attention on the sight again, the planet had slipped out. In fact, it was nowhere in the immediate starscape ahead of him.
His quick glance at the basement showed first that a twilight shadow was moving in from the north-- From the north? It had to be the east! And how come so soon?
Small panic twisted his diaphragm when he viewed below the unfamiliar topography and increasing cloudiness. And when he saw by his watch it was nearly three--
The radio had started to transmit. He swallowed a lump of fear and prepared some kind of an answer. "... If you hear me. Please indicate if you hear me, Grant."
"Would you like a pilot to help you orient from here?"
Grant felt sheepish, but the panic still remained. He was now aware his alertness was not up to par, so he nodded again. But he was feeling better by the minute.
Back on course under one of the pilot's directions, Grant soon took over.
"Skip that exercise, Grant, and glide in," Bridget sent. "Feel up to it, now?"
"Yeah, but what's it all about? I must've passed out, but damned if I know what for."
Grant heard Bridget's laugh and his morale improved. "You come down and take me to dinner and I'll give you the answer--and what I think may be the answer to all the general's troubles. Right now I've got a report to write so the general can get the word soon--and as painlessly as possible."
Grant pressed the stud to activate the skin coolant system for entrance into the atmosphere. He almost felt like grinning.
Grant at the medical officer's advice took a brief nap, which quickly cleared up his mental fuzziness. As a surprise to Bridget he ordered a rotocab from Barstow, the nearest town, booming since the base had become operative.
In a specialty restaurant over freshly arrived seafood from San Francisco, Grant tried to persuade Bridget to stop teasing him about the navigational foul-up and set him straight. He had put up with it as long as he did only because she had worn an off-shoulder yellow gown, snugly fitted, that made the uniform seem like the design of a Mid-Victorian prude.
Grant, exasperated, brought her teasing up short. "I've been priding myself on keeping up the myth I'm a wide-awake young man and pilot. Never have I passed out before--never. I feel like a washed-out cadet. You've had your fun baiting--now, what made me blank?"