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Updated: June 27, 2025
Thomas handed it to me. "Cap'n," he said, bending over me. "I notice you got the selector set for your chemical warheads. You wouldn't want me to set up pluto heads for ya, would ya, Cap'n?" "No, thanks, Thomas," I said. "Chemical is what I want. Stand by to observe." I pressed the firing key. Thomas was at the radarscope. "Missiles away, Cap'n.
It was at 11,000 feet and traveling about 180 miles an hour toward Santa Monica. The operator was about ready to yell at the other crew members to shut off the set when he noticed something mighty odd there was a big gap between the last and the rest of the regularly spaced bright spots on the radarscope.
Tom Corbett stood at the radarscope and watched the thin white line sweep around the face of the instrument. "Nothing in space but us!" he announced. The veteran spaceman grunted and grinned at the curly-haired cadet he had grown to like and respect in the short time they had been together.
But by this time the operator would have learned that they were caused by weather and it wouldn't be reported to us. It is interesting to note that, to my knowledge, there has never been a radar sighting classed as "unknown" when radarscope photos were taken. The reason is simple. The radar operator can take ample time to re-examine what he had to interpret in seconds during the actual sighting.
"And since we have plenty of time, we might as well be neat about our departure." He was wrong, of course, but he didn't know that. Douglas Alexander checked the radarscope and whistled in surprise at the picture it revealed. "So that's where he's going," he said softly to himself. "Cousin Alex was right as usual." He grimaced unpleasantly. "He's up to something that's for sure."
But before they could do more than confirm the GOC spotter's report, the target faded from the radarscope. An F-47 aircraft on combat air patrol in the area was vectored in visually, spotted a light, and closed on it. They "fought" from 10,000 to 27,000 feet, and several times the object made what seemed to be ramming attacks.
"Have you found the Space Lance yet, Astro?" asked Kit Barnard, glancing over his shoulder at the giant Venusian, standing at the radarscope. "I think I'm getting it now," said Astro. "Either that or I've picked up an asteroid." "Not likely," said Kit. "We're too far from the belt to have anything that big drifting around without being charted. It must be Sticoon." "Boy!" chuckled Astro.
Then, almost before he realized it, the plane had climbed and the earphones emitted, "I have lost visual contact. You are now under control by radarscope." The jet climbed rapidly, then started through a series of maneuvers. Rick began to enjoy it. But the flight was almost over. "I'm bringing you in," the pilot said. The plane turned, leveled, and the throttle was retarded.
"Radar is not subject to the frailties of the human mind," is the outcry of every saucer fan, "and radar has seen UFO's." Radar is no better than the radar observer and the radar observer has a mind. And where there's a mind there is the same old trouble. If the presentation on the radarscope doesn't look like it has looked for years a UFO is being tracked. Radar is temperamental.
You're washed up as a spaceman. Think you'll like that?" "Why why what's that got to do with me?" asked Roger. "Just this, kid. After the investigation they'll find out your radarscope wasn't working right. Then they'll come to me and ask me what happened aboard the Annie Jones." "Well," demanded Roger, "what did happen?" Loring glanced at Mason. "Just this, kid.
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