“Charley, there’s a rumor that airline pilots have been ordered not to talk,” I told Planck. “You know anything about it?” “You mean ordered by the Air Force or the companies?” he said. “The Air Force _and_ the C.A.A.” “If the C.A.A.’s in on it, it’s a top-level deal,” said Charley. “I think it’s more likely the companies—with or without a nudge from the Air Force.” While we were talking, an official from another agency came in. Because the lead he gave me was off the record, I’ll call him Steve Barrett. I knew Steve fairly well. We were both pilots with service training; our paths had crossed during the war, and I saw him now and then at airports around Washington. When the saucer scare first broke, Steve had been disgusted. “Damn fools trying to get publicity,” he snorted. “The way Americans fall for a gag! Even the Air Force has got the jitters.” So I was a little surprised to find he now thought the disks were real. “What sold you?” I asked. “The radar reports,” said Steve. “I know of half a dozen cases where they’ve tracked the things. One was in Japan. The thing was climbing so fast no one believed the radarmen at first. Then they got some more reports. One was up in Canada. There was a case in New Mexico, and I think a Navy destroyer tracked a saucer up in the North Atlantic.” “What did they find out?” said Charley Planck. Steve shrugged. “I don’t know all the answers. Whatever they are, the things can go like hell.” I had a hunch he was holding back. I waited until he had finished with Charley, and then went, down the hall with him. “You think the saucers are guided missiles?” I said. “If I thought so, I wouldn’t be talking,” he said flatly, “That’s not a dig at you. But I was cleared last year for some secret electronics work, and it might be used in some way with guided missiles.” “I didn’t know that, Steve.” “It’s O.K.,” he said. “I don’t mind talking, because can’t believe the saucers are guided missiles. Maybe few of the things sighted out in the Southwest have beer our test rockets, but that doesn’t explain the radar reports in Canada and Japan.” “I’d already heard about a radar case in Labrador,” I told Steve. He looked at me quickly. “Where’d you pick that up;” “_True_ passed it on to me,” I said. “They’ve had some trouble tracking the things, they maneuver so fast,” said Steve. “It sounds crazy, but I’ve been told they hit more than ten thousand miles an hour.” “You believe it.?” “Well, it’s not impossible. Those saucers were tracked about fifty miles up, where there’s not much resistance.” The elevator door opened. Steve waited until we were outside of the Commerce Building. “There’s one other thing that gets me,” he said. “Unless the radar boys are way off, some of those saucers are enormous. I just can’t see a guided missile five hundred feet in diameter.” He stopped for a moment. “I suppose this will sound screwy to you—” “You think they’re interplanetary,” I said.