William Sambrot

“ He stared in horror at the dry lips, the swollen black tongue. In the space of seconds the hard young man was a limp scarecrow whose lips cracked and moved in a dry-as-dust whisper. The major bent his ear close to the withered mouth, listening. ”

“ Who have great ships that fly. Beings who can make a man who comes too near die of thirst even though he carries water at his belt. Beings who can control the minds of men." He hesitated. "That's why they named those mountains—the Superstitions."
"I'm afraid you'll have to find a better explanation than that," the general said stiffly.
"You have the written reports of the radio men on duty," Martin said. "They all heard Ryan, Morelli and Sayers talking. They back up every word I've said. ”

“ Saunders what you told me over the TV hookup last night?" The general leaned forward and fumbled with the pile of color photographs on his desk. "Are these—the shots you took?"
Colonel Martin nodded wearily, sighed, looked briefly out the window and said in a soft even voice, "Captains Morelli, Ryan and Sayers and I took off at 0800—"
"Who gave permission for the flight?" Saunders cut in crisply. "Is it routine for your people to fly formations around here without some special alert?"
Martin stiffened slightly. "No sir. It was an unauthorized flight. My idea." He moistened his lips. ”

“ I put my ship on auto-pilot—I carry a camera and I wanted to get some shots. I did, about twelve color pix, aiming directly at the thing. I couldn't possibly have missed."
General Brereton snorted and handed the developed prints to Saunders. Saunders examined each one, his brows lifting higher and higher. Finally he handed the pictures to the general and turned to Martin.
"Those pictures are utterly blank," he said quietly. "They show nothing but blue sky and a distant horizon. How do you account for that?"
"I can only say," Martin replied, "that the camera doesn't lie. ”

“ He brought out a large composite, constructed of carefully joined-together aerial photographs pasted on a board. "Yesterday, after I saw the smashed ships, and while I waited for the base to confirm, I went back over the route I'd taken while following the will-o-the-wisp disc—on auto-pilot. This time, I shot downwards—at the earth." He slid the composite around so that it faced the two men. They came erect, eyes glittering, staring down at it. ”

“ There was no red and blue jet there.
"Here they come now," the major muttered. "Holy cow! Saunders, Under-Secretary to the old man, no less. And General Brereton—G2." He turned to Martin. "Better give it to them straight—" He broke off, seeing Martin's burning eyes in his drawn gray face, hearing the sudden strange rattling breath as he pawed weakly through the empty desk drawer.
"Negatives. Composite," Martin croaked. "Gone. They took them, and I never guessed!" His hands trailed limply and he fell across the desk, bounced and rolled onto the floor. ”