"Yes, I see your point," said Kathy.

"What I have to tell wouldn't help much," he said, "but once they got me, they wouldn't let loose. They'd keep on pestering me and questioning me, trying to trap me in lies. Like as not they'd drag me off to Washington and I have my thesis that I am working on

"Yes, you're right," said Kathy. "I don't know. I think just possibly you made the right decision."

"You mean, then, that you're not going to argue about making a story out of me."

"I don't think I would dare to," she said. "It would sound like sheer hogwash, pure sensationalism. No evidence at all to document the story. Just your unsupported word for it. I can imagine what Al Lathrop would say."

"Who is Lathrop?"

"Our managing editor. He's a bear for documentation. Such a story would never get past him. Probably it wouldn't even get by Johnny. Johnny would be drooling over it, but he'd know that Lathrop.

"That eases my mind," said Jerry. "I thought maybe I'd have to fight you off."

"It's a damn shame," said Kathy. "It would make a nice story.

God, what a story it would make! It would go out over the wires.

Every paper would publish it. Millions of people would read it.

You'd be an instant hero

"Or an instant bum."

"That, too," she said.

She settled back into the crook of his arm. It was nice here, she told herself. The sun, halfway down the western sky, was warm; there was not a cloud in sight. In front of them, the shallow water gurgled as it chattered along its rocky bed. Across the river, an aspen grove shouted the goldness of its autumn leaves against the somber greenery of the pines.

"You realize, of course," she said, "that eventually they will catch up with you. As soon as they unscramble that car enough to get at a license plate. Or when they have the engine number."

"Yes, I know," he said. "I need some time before they do. I have to think about it more. Get my feet under me. Know what I have to do. Maybe by that time the question of who the car belongs to won't seem important."

"Even when they know you are the one," said Kathy, "there's no reason to mention that you were ever inside the visitor. They'll never ask. No one would suspect that it possibly could happen. All you have to do is let the incident blow over to some extent. I would imagine that as time goes on, the visitor may give them a lot more to think about. Within the next few days, you should file an insurance claim on the car. By that time, well probably know who hauled it off and why."

"That can wait. I have one problem, though. I should be getting back to the university."

"Chet will be driving into Bemidji in another hour or so with some rolls of film to put on a plane to Minneapolis. One of the kids who hang around the gas station walked out this morning and brought in the car for Chet. It had been stranded in the traffic jam when the troopers closed roads into Lone Pine and has been sitting there ever since. You can ride with Chet to Bemidji and take the plane from there."

"Kathy, I haven't the price of a plane ticket on me."

"That's all right. I have. I picked up a wad of expense money before I left the Tribune."

"I'll pay you back later on. You may have to wait."

"No need. I can work it into my expense account somehow. If not all this trip, the rest of it on the next."

"I hate to leave," he said. "It's so peaceful up here. Once I get back, I'll sit hunched over waiting for the phone to ring or for someone to tap me on the shoulder."

"It may take a while. They may not move too fast. There'll be other things for them to do."

"When will Chet be leaving?"

"Not for a while. We still have a while."

"When will you be back at the Tribune?"

"I have no idea. Not too long, I hope. I've been thinking about one thing you said. The thought of home you said the visitor projected into your mind—if that is what it did. What do you make of it?"

"I've thought and thought of it," he said. "It was a curious thing to happen. Not something one would expect. All I do is think around in circles. I can't seem to get a handle on it."

"It does seem strange."

"It all seems strange. If it hadn't happened to me, I'd say it couldn't happen."

"Any overall impressions? Any idea of the kind of thing this visitor could be?"

"It was all so confusing," he said. "I've tried to figure out if it is some sort of machine controlled by an intelligence or if it is actually a live creature. Sometimes I think one way, sometimes another. It all stays confused. Yet, I'm haunted by it. Maybe if I could tell it all, describe exactly what I saw and felt, to some scientist, an exobiologist perhaps, he might see something that I missed."

"Talking to someone about it is exactly what you are trying to dodge," she reminded him.

"What I'm trying to dodge," he said, "is public exposure, questioning by governmental agencies, being sneered at or treated like an over-imaginative child, beaten to death by people who have no imagination, no concept of what may be involved."

Kathy said, trying to comfort him, "Maybe in another day or two, our visitor will just fly off and leave. We may never see its like again. It may have dropped by only for a visit, a short rest before it goes on to wherever it is going."

"I don't think so," said Jerry. "I don't know why I think this, but I do."

"There's a man at the university," said Kathy. "Dr. Albert Barr. An exobiologist. Not widely known, but he has published a few papers. Maybe you should talk with him. Jay wrote a story a year or so ago about him. He sounded like a good guy."

"Maybe I'll look him up," said Jerry.

12. SPACE

"Do you see anything?" the pilot of the shuttle asked the co-pilot. "Our beam says we're close, but I can't see a thing. We should be seeing something. Some glint, some reflection. The sun is straight behind us.

"I see nothing," said the co-pilot. "I thought I did a minute or so ago. But there's nothing now."

"I'd hate to run into the damn thing," the pilot said. "Why don't you get on the horn, check with the station?"

The co-pilot picked up the mike. "Station," he said. "Station, this is Shuttle. Can you tell us where we are?"

"Shuttle," said a voice, "our readings put you right on top of it. Don't you see anything at all? Can't you spot it?"

"Negative. We cannot see it."

"Sheer off," said Station. "To the left. You're too close. Try an approach from another angle."

"Sheering off7" the pilot said. "We'll get out and try a new approach."

The co-pilot grabbed his arm. ~‘My god," he said, "do you see what I see? Will you look at that!"

13. WASHINGTON, D.C

Once again, as he always did, to his continuing gratification, Dave Porter felt a deep, quiet pride in Alice Davenport, pride in being seen with her, in knowing that this splendid, ~ove1y woman would consent to spend some time with him. She sat across the table from him in one of the dim, far corners of an intimate Washington restaurant, with candles on the table and music coming from some place far away. She lifted her glass and looked across it at him.

"It can't be too bad yet," she said. "You've not taken on that terrible haggard look that I see too often. Did everything go all right today?"

"The news briefing went off fine," he said. "They didn't beat me up. They were almost buddy-buddy. There were no awkward moments. I hope it can keep on that way. I've told the President that on this one, we have to come out clean. No holding back on anything. The meeting with the President and his men was something else again. Some of those bastards are positively paranoid."