

                       01-July-1947 at 8pm
                    United States, New Mexico


"Unidentified craft bearing northwest. You are in restricted
airspace. I repeat, you are in restricted... holy shit!"

Captain Mark Hayes banked left as fast as he could, trying madly
to avoid the distant speck which suddenly grew to fill his entire
cockpit window and then darted away, all in a matter of seconds.

"Holloman Control. Holloman, this is Panther. Do you read me?
Over!"

"Panther... we do not show unidentified craft on radar. You are
the only one up there. Over."

"The hell I am!" Hayes shook his head and he angled his fighter
upward to follow the strange speck, its silvery sheen nearly lost
in the dim evening light. "Climbing to forty thousand. I'm
telling you, he's right in front of me. And he's fast!"

"Captain, have you been drinking?"

Hayes blinked at the sound of the Colonel's voice. Just his luck
that Mitchell would be in the tower. "No sir. He's not showing on
my radar either, but he's right there, sir. I'm staring right at
him."

Some eight miles below, Colonel Mitchell took a deep breath,
rubbing his nose as he watched the single blue dot blink on and
off with each sweep of the array. Thunderclouds had been moving
in, making the radar contact somewhat touch and go, but that
didn't explain why he could see Mark's fighter perfectly well and
yet this other craft was as good as invisible.

"Terry, get me White Sands."

"Yes sir."

Mitchell chewed his lip until the sergeant came back with a phone
hanging by one hand and a receiver by the other.

"This is Colonel Mitchell at Holloman? Who am I speaking to?"

"Major Chase. What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"Are you folks running tests over my property?"

"Uh... no sir, we aren't running any tests today."

"No rockets flying."

"No rockets, sir. No nothing. Why?"

"Never mind," Mitchell let the receiver drop back into its
carriage. He didn't have time for a long explanation. There was
only one thing this bird could be. Russian.

"Panther, can you hear me?"

"Yes sir, I read you loud and clear. Over."

"Has the unidentified craft responded to radio?"

"No sir. He just slowed down and he's hanging right in front of
me."

"Does it look like one of ours?"

"No sir. He doesn't even look like a plane."

Mitchell took another deep breath, hoping like hell he was about
to make the right call. "Okay, Captain. I'm directing you to
unload."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Fire everything you've got."

"Yes sir."

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