“Conner?” The major sat up in his chair. “This is Andrews. I called to find out if you have received that report on those things we picked up near Fort Hamilton, in Brooklyn.”
“Yes I did,” Conner said. “I understand your boys had a job bringing them in.”
“Certainly did, we lost an armored car and a couple of acres of scenery before they ran out of ammo. We finally came up behind them with a landing barge and bulldozed them inside. The boys at Ordnance opened them up a few hours ago. The report covers what we found inside.”
“Huh, this ought to fill a few Sunday supplements,” Conner said.
“That’s what I called you about, Conner.” The major began to doodle nervously on his desk pad. “What’s chances of keeping this out of the papers?”
“Too late,” Conner said emphatically. “A couple of news camera men got there before the army did. The story is smeared over the front page of every daily in the country by now. What’s up?”
“According to the Medical Department they’re from outer space,” Andrews explained as he sketched leaping flames on his pad. “They also appear willing to communicate. In fact, Major Flacs, our head psychiatrist, and his staff, have been interrogating them for an hour. We found out that there were four other groups, besides their own, that landed.”
“Holy smoke!” Conner exclaimed. “Have you heard anything about the others?”
“Yes, I’ve just received a message from Schofield Barracks in Hawaii. We picked up another group of three in Wiamea, Kauai.”
“Have any trouble?”