Martin rose and his lean figure towered over them. "I held this out because I wanted you both to understand what line of reasoning made me go back. I sound insane because, of course, what I've said isn't pleasant for human minds to accept."
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.
"I didn't mention this over the TV hookup last night, or to any of the interrogators for reasons already given. I wanted to make certain only the highest echelon would see this." He handed the general a powerful magnifying glass. "Those ships must be a good thousand feet long, don't you think?" He laughed softly, a thin, triumphant sound that filled the room. "Who'd think that spiders—like those—could make such machines."
Saunders and the general stared grimly at the fantastic shapes and objects that were frozen in sharp clarity on the magnified photos. Great round-domed buildings, connected with long, dully-gleaming walks. And here and there tall needle-pointed ships rested on broad concrete-like bases, their slender snouts pointed up towards the blue sky, while about their bases swarmed creatures that were squat and broad and many-limbed.
The two men looked at him, then turned once again to their scrutiny of the composite, their faces impassive, unchanging. Martin opened the desk drawer and piled half a dozen thin negatives near the general's elbow.
"Here are the negatives," he said. "You can see—they're genuine," he said.
"Genuine," Martin echoed. "And they grounded me because they thought I was insane!" He flashed a white grin. "But I won't be grounded after this—and neither will the rest of us, because not a hundred miles away, sirs, is the answer to everything—everything we've ever wanted to know. Project Breakaway?" He laughed aloud again. "Kindergarten stuff to them!"
"Perhaps they're not interested in teaching—kindergarten," Saunders said slowly. He gave Martin a piercing glance. "A most remarkable job, Colonel. Lucid thinking. You're to be congratulated."
"Thank you," Martin said. "I'm glad it convinced you."
"So much so," the general said, "That we'll have to leave with it immediately." He stuffed the negatives and composite into a briefcase. They shook hands, exchanged a few more congratulatory words, then stepped out the door. Beyond them, he saw the alienist, Major Elliston, at the end of the hall. They shut the door quietly and Martin stared at it, a faint crease between his eyes. He licked his lips, swallowed once or twice and drew a deep, shaky breath.