have predicted his
career. And none of the predictions would have been true--for none
included a man with a rifle waiting in a blind for the game to
approach within range....

The Aztlan ship had landed early that July morning, dropping silently
through the overcast covering International Airport. It settled gently
to rest precisely in the center of the junction of the three main
runways of the field, effectively tying up the transcontinental and
transoceanic traffic. Fully five hundred feet in diameter, the giant
ship squatted massively on the runway junction, cracking and buckling
the thick concrete runways under its enormous weight.

By noon, after the first skepticism had died, and the unbelievable TV
pictures had been flashed to their waiting audience, the crowd began
to gather. All through that hot July morning they came, increasing by
the minute as farther outlying districts poured their curious into the
Airport. By early afternoon, literally hundreds of millions of eyes
were watching the great ship over a world-wide network of television
stations which cancelled their regular programs to give their viewers
an uninterrupted view of the enigmatic craft.

By mid-morning the sun had burned off the overcast and was shining
with brassy brilliance upon the squads of sweating soldiers from Fort
Lewis, and more sweating squads of blue-clad police from the
metropolitan area of Seattle-Tacoma. The police and soldiery quickly
formed a ring around the ship and cleared a narrow lane around the
periphery, and this they maintained despite the increasing pressure of
the crowd.

The hours passed and nothing happened. The faint creaking and snapping
sounds as the seamless hull of the vessel warmed its space-chilled
metal in the warmth of the summer sun were lost in the growing
impatience of the crowd. They wanted something to happen. Shouts and
catcalls filled the air as more nervous individuals clamored to
relieve the tension. Off to one side a small group began to clap their
hands rhythmically. The little claque gained recruits, and within
moments the air was riven by the thunder of thousands of palms meeting
in unison. Frightened the crowd might be, but greater than fear was
the desire to see what sort of creatures were inside.

Matson stood in the cleared area surrounding the ship, a position of
privilege he shared with a few city and state officials and the high
brass from McChord Field, Fort Lewis, and Bremerton Navy Y