In the gully to the west of the house, a large crane lowered a tarpaulin-draped load to the ground. A soldier with a bright orange pullover guided the process with radio commands to the crane operator as the long matte black arm reached from the yard. The crane engine gunned as the object lowered the final few feet to the ground to settle with a gentle groan.

The load master unhooked the support straps from the crane hook with a long pole, then cleared the crane to retrieve its cable. Once the steel cable was on its way out of the gully, the load master began the slow process of uncovering the new arrival. Sergeant Casey, the Gilli suit still strapped to his back, stood close by, digging his heels into the soft dirt and scanning the sides of the gully. He had no worry a trespasser would stumble on the work, but he believed in being cautious.

This was the strangest assignment he had ever drawn. When Turner had recruited Casey, he said the mission would strain the Sergeant’s credulity; the man had been right. He looked at the object uncovered by the loadmaster. It was the first time he had been close to a flying saucer, even if it was a mockup. A burnished aluminum skin rose in a cone to a small cylinder at the top. Lights dotted the hull, while a few wires hung loosely to the ground. The load master rolled the tarp into a tight ball, wrapped it with bungee cords, then set it on the ground as he kneeled and examined the undercarriage of the saucer.

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“How long?” Casey watched while the load master crawled under the saucer, his feet visible at the edge of the large prop.

“Looks like the battery is loose and some of the wiring snagged a tree. I’ve got leaves and junk in here.” The feet shifted as the man searched the interior of the saucer. “An hour, maybe two, before it’s ready,” came the muffled determination as the load master climbed into the saucer.

Casey looked at the spindly legs supporting the saucer and hoped the damn thing would not collapse on the technician. “I’ll let Turner know.”

“Thanks.”

Casey climbed the steep wall of the gully, his feet sinking in the dirt as he pushed through the brush. The slippery pine needles were a problem. He hoped none of his men had to climb or descend the gully quickly; someone would break a bone or two.

Maybe a jaunt to the road was in order, just to see if the Sheriff had cleared the area.