"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. I've taken too many shots with that camera not to know that it's in top condition. It couldn't—and didn't lie. There was no flying disc in front of us."
"No!" The general frowned and sat up with a jerk. "First you tell us this story of an object darting and weaving about your formation—an object four men see and give chase. An object that led three good pilots to their death—and now you say there was no object!"
"It's the only explanation I can give for the way in which Morelli, Ryan and Sayers hit that peak," Martin said patiently. "As I say, my ship was on auto-pilot. I was shooting away—and at all times, that disc was directly in front of me." He stopped and looked at the two to see if they caught the significance of what he'd just told them. They hadn't.
"Don't you understand—the others kept up a running commentary, each saying that the disc was directly in front of him—and all the time, unknown to me—they were in a steep dive and simultaneously, they hit that peak at nine-thousand feet."
There was another long silence, broken only by muffled sounds from the field outside—the chugging of fuel trucks, shouts of mechanics, the occasional crackling hum as a jet was fired up.
"Then it is your contention," Saunders said, "That each of you was suffering from a hallucination—a mirage, in fact. A mirage which took the form of a flying disc and which caused three trained pilots to fail to notice that they were losing altitude and heading directly into a mountain peak. Is that what you're trying to say?"
"It was not a mirage," Martin said. "It was a deliberately implanted impression."
"Explain yourself," the general said hoarsely. He exchanged a swift glance with Saunders.
"The disc suddenly wasn't there—after the others had hit, I imagine. I don't know for sure—but suddenly, the thing just sort of—turned off. It wasn't there. I looked around and saw the pillar of smoke far off to my left and rear but no following ships. I swung around and tried to contact my men. No result. I went over the spot where the fires were and recognized them immediately as—the remains. I contacted the base. While I was hanging around up there, I had a lot of time to think. I realized then what I've already told you—that each of the men thought the disc was directly before him. Each followed it—to his death. I wasn't operating manually—my auto-pilot—" he smiled strangely—"isn't susceptible to—hypnotic suggestions—so it flew a straight course—at thirty-thousand."