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 search or the rescue squads picked something up. Coming, Brice?" Nolan forced a grin. "With little green men running around?" Then he became serious. "I'll be up a little later. I have something to do down here." Morgan snorted as they headed for the door. "See if you can locate a Buck Rogers ray gun. We might need it." They went back to their cars and Nolan Brice wedged himself behind the wheel but he didn't start the engine. He sat there, instead, watching the Government men drive off down the street, his mind whirling with a million jangling thoughts that tore through him viciously. Flying saucers, Martians, little green men! The whole damned thing was impossible, ridiculous... But true. A man just couldn't sit down and say "I refuse to believe in lightning." It didn't make sense. You had to believe what your mind told you ... and his mind was telling him wild things. It all fit. Hell, it fit with a perfection that was absolutely fantastic, but crazy enough to be the truth. Nick Danson, commercial artist, disappeared thirteen months ago and every police agency in the country can't locate him. It was as if the earth had opened and swallowed him; but it hadn't been the earth, it had been the sky. _They_ had done it ... the Martians, or whatever the hell they were. Why? Why steal a Terran? To replace him? To send an alien being down to take the place of the Terran they had stolen. That took care of the confusion the watch had represented. For awhile it had looked as though Nick had piloted that space ship, but now Nolan knew better. It wasn't Nick. It was an alien! Beth!