“Our information is that you have flown the Y-36G.”

“That’s right.” Casey wondered what they were getting to.

“The board officer said, “In two weeks the first class of the Space Academy graduates. Until now, warfare has been restricted to land, sea and air. With this graduation we will have the military erupting into a new medium.”

“I’ve read about it,” Casey said.

The graduation will be spectacular. The class is small, only seventy-five cadets, but already the school is expanding. All the other services will be represented at the ceremony.”

Warren Casey wished the other would get to the point.

“We want to make this a very dramatic protest against military preparedness,” the other went on. “Something that will shock the whole nation, and certainly throw fear into everyone connected with arms.”

The chairman took over. “The air force will put on a show. A flight of twenty Y-36Gs will buzz the stand where the graduating cadets are seated, waiting their commissions.”

Realization was beginning to build within Casey.

“You’ll be flying one of those Y-36Gs,” the chairman pursued. His next sentence came slowly. “And the guns of your craft will be the ones in the flight that are loaded.”

Warren Casey said, without emotion, “I’m expendable, I suppose?”

The chairman gestured in negation. “No. We have plans for your escape. You make only the one pass, and you strafe the cadets as you do so. You then proceed due north, at full speed…”

Casey interrupted quickly. “You’d better not tell me any more about it. I don’t think I can take this assignment.”

The chairman was obviously taken aback. “Why, Warren? You’re one of our senior men and an experienced pilot.”

Casey shook his head, unhappily. “Personal reasons. No operative is forced to take an assignment he doesn’t want. I’d rather skip this, so you’d best not tell me any more about it. That way it’s impossible for me to crack under pressure and betray someone.”