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We were hoping that you could help us get in touch with all the ground
observing corps' branches; we'll use this office as a headquarters for
Nolan blinked, "What's up? An Air Force test plane down?"
Cartwell shook his head. "We got a UFO report..."
"A flying saucer?" Nolan was stunned.
Cartwell chuckled and his partner grinned. "An Unidentified Flying
Object does not necessarily constitute a space craft, Brice. But
something was spotted off the Grand Banks, early this morning, going
like hell and apparently out of control. We got our last sighting over
Auburn, New York. We checked the observation posts around Everett and
found that nothing was seen. We also checked Binghamton and Elmira, with
a negative report. Since the object was on a southerly heading, when
spotted near Auburn, we can only assume that it went down in the area
between Everett and Auburn, and Binghamton and Elmira."
Nolan gave a long low whistle. "Not one of ours, huh?"
"Not at that speed."
"That leaves the big one, then. Russian?"
Cartwell shrugged. "Could be. If it is, we want the wreckage. No matter
what it is, or whose it is, we are very interested in any aircraft that
travels at speeds of fifteen to nineteen thousand miles per hour."
Nolan whistled again. "That's rolling," he grinned.
"Yeah," mused Sam Morgan, "and we'd kind of like to know what makes it
roll like that."
"Okay. Let's go into a huddle," Nolan said. "But I can tell you this. If
the thing went down in north central Pennsylvania, it's in some pretty
"Great," Cartwell snarled.
The dream was of a woman.
He was lying on a strangely made bed, the warm breezes of evening
rolling in off the crashing sea and the woman stood in the ornate
doorway that entered the bedroom. About him lay all manner of bright
silks and strange colored cloths. The woman smiled and his eyes caressed
Her hair was as gold as the noon sun and her eyes, lifting slightly at
the outer corners, were as blue as the sea. Her lips petaled back over
the white strength of her teeth and her fingers did strange things to
make the flimsy robe drop from the rounded softness of her shoulders. He
watched her walk, upon curvaceous legs, to the edge of the bed. For just
a second, she smiled down at him.
"Father is sleeping like a baby," she whispered.
He felt himself talk: "Good." Then his fingers curled about the curve of
her thigh. His fingers tightened and the crimson smile broadened; he
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