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    Charley Pine shrugged at Lalouette, one of those what-can-you-do? shrugs that are popular in New York, and together the two of them began the process of readying Jeanne d’Arc to receive fuel as the coast of California slid under them.

C HAPTER 3
    It was after midnight in Missouri when Egg Cantrell went looking for Rip. The assorted scientists were fast asleep in every bed in the house, on the couches and on cots in a large tent a rental firm had erected on the lawn.
    In the hangar, Egg called Rip’s name, got a muffled answer and followed the sound. He found two feet sticking out from under his old pickup, the 1957 Dodge.
    “What are you doing under there?”
    “I’m about finished. Two more minutes.”
    Egg’s hangar was built during World War II for the Army Air Corps; it and the nearby air traffic control tower where. Rip was sleeping these days were the only structures still remaining from the military past. Egg had jackhammered the concrete runways years ago and reseeded them in grass. Today the hangar contained an Aeronca Champ airplane, several old farm tractors, an Indian Chief motorcycle, a Model A Ford and an assortment of antique furniture and farm machinery he had acquired at estate sales, plus numerous items he just found interesting, such as an old printing press and Linotype he purchased when the county newspaper went digital.
    This old Dodge wasn’t his everyday pickup, of course. He had paid two hundred dollars for it way back when, and amazingly, it still ran.
    Rip crawled out from under the engine compartment, wiped his hands on a rag and said, “Okay. I’m ready to try it.”
    “Try what?”
    There was a piece of plywood in the bed of the truck. Rip picked up a corner and let Egg see the automobile batteries underneath arranged in rows. He put the plywood back in place, flashed a grin at his uncle and got into the pickup. The engine started right up.
    “The problem is power,” he explained to his uncle as he revved the engine. His eyes gleamed. Egg hadn’t seen him this excited since Charley left, forty-four days ago. Egg had been counting. “The engine in the pickup doesn’t make enough of it,” Rip continued. “I use the generator to charge the batteries, then use the batteries to power the system.”
    “What system?”
    “Stand back a little and I’ll show you.”
    Egg took several hesitant steps backward, and as he did the pickup lifted off the dirt floor of the hangar and rose several feet in the air, where it stopped. The nose was at least a foot higher than the rear corner of the truck, which was barely clear of the ground.
    “Antigravity,” Rip said, laughing. “I built a small system like the one in the saucer. What do you think?”
    “Seems as if you have a bit more work to do.”
    “I haven’t got the lift lines in the right places. Turns out it’s a bit more difficult than I figured, but that’s the way it goes. Life is tougher than it looks, isn’t it? I’ll iron out the glitches.” He turned off the engine of the pickup, which had no effect on the vehicle’s position in the air. “Stand back and watch me move this thing around.”
    Egg took several more steps backward, bumped into a tractor, and decided to take cover behind it. As he did so the truck silently moved aft toward the center of the hangar, still suspended at an odd angle above the dirt floor.
    Rip tried to make the truck turn—and succeeded in slewing the nose around dangerously, almost hitting Egg’s Aeronca. He got it stopped just in time. Dust from the hangar floor swirled around.
    “Sorry, Unc. I’ll take this thingamabob outside.” With that, the truck crept forward out of the hangar. It slowly accelerated until it was moving at about the speed a man could trot. It crossed the runway, heading for the trees on the other side.
    Egg could hear Rip cussing. He was saying some rather nasty words in a loud, clear voice when the truck smacked into a large tree on the far side of the