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and freezer, were built-ins with pull-downs for useas needed. He set his bags on the small counter to put away after thepre-start check. Aft of the galley and on the same side of thepassageway were the double-decked bunks for the patrol troopers.Across the passageway was a tiny latrine and shower. Clay tossed hishelmet on the lower bunk as he went down the passageway. At thebulkhead to the rear, he pressed a wall panel and a thick, insulateddoor slid back to admit him to the engine compartment. The servicecrews had shut down the big power plants and turned off the airexchangers and already the heat from the massive engines made thecompartment uncomfortably warm.

  He hurried through into a small machine shop. In an emergency, thetroopers could turn out small parts for disabled vehicles or for otheruses. It also stocked a good supply of the most common failure parts.Racked against the ceiling were banks of cutting torches, a grimreminder that death or injury still rode the thruways with increasingfrequency.

  In the tank storage space between the ceiling and top of the hull werethe chemical fire-fighting liquids and foam that could be applied bynozzles, hoses and towers now telescoped into recesses in the hull.Along both sides and beneath the galley, bunks, engine andmachine-shop compartments between the walls, deck and hull, wereBeulah's fuel storage tanks.

  The last after compartment was a complete dispensary, one that wouldhave made the emergency room or even the light surgery rooms ofearlier-day hospitals proud.

  Clay tapped on the door and went through. Medical-Surgical OfficerKelly Lightfoot was sitting on the deck, stowing sterile bandage packsinto a lower locker. She looked up at Clay and smiled. "Well, well,you DID manage to tear yourself away from your adoring bevies," shesaid. She flicked back a wisp of golden-red hair from her forehead andstood up. The patrol-blue uniform coverall with its belted waistdidn't do much to hide a lovely, properly curved figure. She walkedover to the tall Canadian trooper and reached up and grabbed his ear.She pulled his head down, examined one side critically and thenquickly snatched at his other ear and repeated the scrutiny. She letgo of his ear and stepped back. "Damned if you didn't get all thelipstick marks off, too."

  Clay flushed. "Cut it out, Kelly," he said. "Sometimes you act justlike my mother."

  The olive-complexioned redhead grinned at him and turned back to herstack of boxes on the deck. She bent over and lifted one of the boxesto the operating table. Clay eyed her trim figure. "You might act likema sometimes," he said, "but you sure don't look like her."

  It was the Irish-Cherokee Indian girl's turn to flush. She became verybusy with the contents of the box. "Where's Ben?" she asked over hershoulder.

  "Making outside check. You about finished in here?"

  Kelly turned and slowly scanned the confines of the dispensary. Withthe exception of the boxes on the table and floor, everything wasbehind secured locker doors. In one corner, the compactdiagnostician--capable of analyzing many known human bodily ailmentsand every possible violent injury to the body--was locked in itsriding clamps. Surgical trays and instrument racks were all hiddenbehind locker doors along with medical and surgical supplies. Oneither side of the emergency ramp door at the stern of the vehicle,three collapsible autolitters hung from clamps. Six hospital bunks intwo tiers of three each, lined another wall. On patrol, Kelly utilizedone of the hospital bunks for her own use except when they might allbe occupied with accident or other kind of patients. And this wouldnever be for more than a short period, just long enough to transferthem to a regular ambulance or hospital vehicle. Her meager supply ofpersonal items needed for the ten-day patrol were stowed in a smalllocker and she shared the latrine with the male members of the team.

  Kelly completed her scan, glanced down at the checklist in her hand."I'll have these boxes stowed in five minutes. Everything else issecure." She raised her hand to her forehead in mock salute."Medical-Surgical Officer Lightfoot reports dispensary ready forpatrol, sir."

  Clay smiled and made a checkmark on his clipboard. "How was theseminar, Kelly?" he asked.

  Kelly hiked herself onto the edge of the operating table. "Wonderful,Clay, just wonderful. I never saw so many good-looking, young, richand eligible doctors together in one place in all my life."

  She sighed and smiled vacantly into space.

  Clay snorted. "I thought you were supposed to be learning somethingnew about tissue regeneration," he said.

  "Generation, regeneration, who cares," Kelly grinned.

  Clay started to say something, got flustered and wheeled around toleave--and bounded right off Ben Martin's chest. Ferguson mumbledsomething and pushed past the older officer.

  Ben looked after him and then turned back to Car 56's combinationdoctor, surgeon and nurse. "Glad to see the hostess aboard for thiscruise. I hope you make the passengers more comfortable than you'vejust made the first mate. What did you do to Clay, Kelly?"

  "Hi, Ben," Kelly said. "Oh, don't worry about junior. He just gets allfluttery when a girl takes away his masculine prerogative to makecleverly lewd witticisms. He'll be all right. Have a happy holiday,Ben? You look positively fat."

  Ben patted his stomach. "Carol's good cooking. Had a nice restfultime. And how about you. That couldn't have been all work. You've gota marvelous tan."

  "Don't worry," Kelly laughed, "I had no intention of letting it be allstudy. I spent just about as much time under the sun dome at the poolas I did in class. I learned a lot though."

  Ben grinned and headed back to the front of the car. "Tell me moreafter we're on the road," he said from the doorway. "We'll be rollingin ten minutes."

  When he reached the cab, Clay was already in the right-hand controlseat and was running down the instrument panel check. The sergeantlifted the hatch door between the two control seats and punched on alight to illuminate the stark compartment at the lower front end ofthe car. A steel grill with a dogged handle on the upper side coveredthe opening under the hatch cover. Two swing-down bunks were racked upagainst the walls on either side and the front hull door was withoutan inside handle. This was the patrol car brig, used for bringing inunwilling violators or other violent or criminal subjects who mightcrop up in the course of a patrol tour. Satisfied with the appearanceof the brig, Ben closed the hatch cover and slid into his own controlseat on the left of the cab. Both control seats were molded andplastiformed padded to the contours of the troopers and the armrestson both were studded with buttons and a series of small,finger-operated, knobs. All drive, communication and fire fightingcontrols for the massive vehicle were centered in the knobs andbuttons on the seat arms, while acceleration and braking controls wereduplicated in two footrest pedals beneath their feet.

  Ben settled into his seat and glanced down to make sure hiswork-helmet was racked beside him. He reached over and flipped a bankof switches on the instrument panel. "All communications to 'on,'" hesaid. Clay made a checkmark on his list. "All pre-engine start checkcomplete," Clay replied.

  "In that case," the senior trooper said, "let's give Beulah someexercise. Start engines."

  Clay's fingers danced across the array of buttons on his seat arms andflicked lightly at the throttle knobs. From deep within the enginecompartment came the muted, shrill whine of the starter engines,followed a split-second later by the full-throated roar of the jets asthey caught fire. Clay eased the throttles back and the engine noisesoftened to a muffled roar.

  Martin fingered a press-panel on the right arm of his seat.

  "Car 56 to Philly Control," Ben called.

  The speakers mounted around the cab came to life. "Go ahead Five Six."

  "Five Six fired up and ready to roll," Martin said.

  "Affirmative Five Six," came the reply, "You're clear to roll. PhillyCheck estimates white density 300; green, 840; blue 400; yellow, 75."

  Both troopers made mental note of the traffic densities in their firstone-hundred-mile patrol segment; an estimated three hundred vehiclesfor each ten miles of thruway in the white or fifty to one hundredmiles an hour low lane; eight hundred forty vehicles in the onehundred to one hundr
ed fifty miles an hour green, and so on. More thansixteen thousand westbound vehicles on the thruway in the first onehundred miles; nearly five thousand of them traveling at speedsbetween one hundred fifty and three hundred miles an hour.

  Over the always-hot intercom throughout the big car Ben called out."All set, Kelly?"

  "I'm making coffee," Kelly answered from the galley. "Let 'er roll."

  Martin started to kick off the brakes, then stopped. "Ooops," heexclaimed, "almost forgot." His finger touched another button and ablaring horn reverberated through the vehicle.

  In the galley, Kelly hurled herself into a corner. Her body