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She was waiting.
And he could see the warmth of her body, sheathed in the web-like gown
that seemed spun over her turgid breasts and curved hips by an army of
artistic spiders. It would not be a hard thing to love a woman like
His fingers curled about the controls, his feet working the rudder
pedals of the screaming ship as he headed for the strange darkness of
the Atlantic Ocean. The space ship was operating well and the Earth
lifted her curved bosom to meet his rush.
Trouble came early. The danger lights flickered in his eyes and the fear
welled up within him like a flood. Fifteen hundred miles an hour and the
scout ship was out of control! The behavior of the craft was erratic, as
though a giant hand was slapping the silver belly as he plummeted toward
the ball of the earth.
Desperately he tried to reduce the speed of the hurtling ship, his
fingers working the buttons and levers in a frenzy of determination. The
craft refused to respond. She whipped into a cloud bank, headed for the
sea, lifted suddenly and whirled back toward space.
In an agony of fear he realized that he no longer was the master of the
space ship - he was a prisoner in a violent, uncontrollable meteor that
would finally slam him into infinity against the very earth that was to
* * * * *
In the early hours of morning, Jean Renault of Nova Scotia fingered the
wheel of his fifty foot boat through the grey ground swells of the Grand
Banks, almost to the place where he would cast his nets into the water.
The overcast sky was refusing to emit the sunlight and a light mist hung
over the sea like a disjointed ghost. When Jean heard the whirring roar
of the ship, it was too late. The silver streak whipped over his fishing
boat with all the furies of the gods, and nearly tore his steadying sail
away. Muttering a string of French curses, Jean picked up his radio
telephone and reported in violent tones the presence of the jet to the
* * * * *
In the half-light of early dawn, the United States and Canada whirled
with reports upon the strange craft. The CQ of the National Defense
system began systematically pinpointing the track of the strange craft
as it raked across the adumbral sky.
Then, it was gone!
The rocketing ship had appeared over one observation station near Lake
Ontario. It had been spotted by a CD worker near Auburn, N.Y., then it
was gone. The last observation of the craft showed it flying an erratic
track toward the mountain country of Pennsylvania.
At CQ operations office, in Washington D.C., Lt. Colonel Martin Griswold
tossed the last report on his desk and pinched his lower lip
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