sound in a report to the capital.” [p85] [p ] Cartwell snorted and ran a hand through his blond hair. “I’ll let you write the report, Sam.” “You go to hell. I like my job and I don’t want to get booted out because of a science fiction twist on an otherwise normal investigation.” “What’s the next move?” Nolan asked, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. Cartwell shrugged. “Go back to the wreck, I guess and try to figure out something.” Sam suddenly slammed his fist on the table and several textbooks danced. “John,” he exploded. “You know what this means, don’t you? If the professor’s right, and this gibberish on this chunk of metal isn’t an Earth language, then we got problems! You know what we got up there? We got a Flying Saucer! A space ship!” “Oh, my God, Sam cut it out! I don’t believe in the damned things, I refuse to.” Sam snickered. “It looks to me as though you haven’t any choice in the matter. It’s like refusing to believe in a Ford V-8; it don’t make any difference whether you believe it or not, it’s there.” “Jesus,” Cartwell said softly. “And that isn’t the payoff. We didn’t find a body in the wreckage. Unless that ship traveled by remote control, it had a pilot who is wandering around the country right now. I can see it now. A wounded little green man running around trying to hitch a ride back to Mars. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so damned serious.” Cartwell nodded at his partner. “We’d better get back up there to the site. Maybe the air [p86] search or the rescue squads picked something up. Coming, Brice?” [p86] [p ]
Prev.
Back
Top