It was cold.

The desert is an inhopsitable place at night and the howling winds will suck the warmth right out of you if you let them.

The inky blackness of the sky above us was only contrasted by the depth and brilliance of the stars now visible. Even the white mists of distant weak magnitude stars were visible to the naked eye.

We were wearing the latest gear, black body armor with thermal concealment technology (TCT) which keeps you nearly invisible to infrared scopes and highpowered IR satellites.

These clothes may conceal heat signatures but Tech4 was certain they do that by "letting you freeze your a-- off!"

We knew a satellite was overhead, but we couldn't wait. Retrieval jobs are always fast and furious. The mind-numbing cold can get one to thinking, "Why am I here?" But looking over at Tech8, who had a case of the shakes, made me think less of my own comfort but more about the well being of my team.

"Break into a run." I spoke over the headset, which was concealed under the windbreaker style hoodgear.

The Gila lizards that came out from the rocks at night, probably had never seen eight humans in the dead of night running across the dusty sands with no apparent reason.

But after several hundred yards, I knew the shakes would be gone - and they were.

Strange things occur out in the desert and tonight we were supposed to check out the strangest. Rumor had it that the US and its most secret installations were being monitored by low flying drones launched here in the US by enemy agents. Knock offs of our own flying eyes were being used to ferret out and map some of Uncle Sam's buried treasures. Atlantis and Valhalla would be great finds, for the enemy.

36 minutes earlier one of these unidentified craft had been clipped and brought down. They were flying them very low and under conventional radar cover. But this particular one popped up on some 'very special' local spinning shovels and was brought down in the treacherous Kachina mountains, where it is purported the ghosts of a long extinct indian tribe howl with the winds.

I'm not superstitious, but my team was not thrilled about our destination.

"Look alive there. What's our position?"

Tech6 gave a quick reading from the RREP-SS1 with the built in GPS interface.

"We're almost there. Keep your eyes peeled. and use your ETFH's." (Enhanced Thermal Field Headgear)

Everyone knew that out here you have only a short time to pick up a heat signature on a downed craft, and that if one wants to locate something warm fast - ETFH's make the job a whole lot easier.

"Refresh my memory again...why are we doing this on foot instead of cracking out one of the birds?" chimed in Tech5.

"Because this is to be an on-site data collection. We are not to let anyone know we have been to the downed craft. Rumsfeld thinks it possible that the folks who are putting these up may come to retrieve it - especially since it is still sending a signal. We take images, set up a sensor array and hope that the bad guys come to collect their expensive remote control plane after we leave. That way the big R feels we can get to the bottom of this a lot faster. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good" I reply, realizing I am more winded than I should be.

"The boys out of the 388th were kind enough to clip it, sending it down, and scratching up one of their Vipers in the process - it is now our job to make their efforts worthwhile."

The wind howled again - louder than ever it seemed.

"What about the Ghosts? What do we do if we meet up with one."

"If that happens, Tech4, you have my explicit permission and consent to turn around and run like hell."

As if on cue Tech4 and Tech7 both report seeing a rising plume with their ETFHs at 10:00. I see it too.

"I want extreme caution to be used. This thing may carry a destruct charge."

Tech7, our resident munitions specialist, closed first on the wreckage, looking for the destruct charge. With a cursory glance, even from twenty yards, I could tell this craft was amazingly similar to our own drones - far too similar.

After precisely 125 seconds we hear Tech7 declare, "All clear".

We move in using up a couple rolls of film, taking care to record every scattered bit and piece that is strewn across the sand and rocks. The camera is ID'd and we discover the still emitting signal is the equivalent of a black box, only this one is grey.

We record the signal - it may be useful in locating these things even when they are under radar.

"Set up the array."

Motion sensors, IR imaging sensors and other as yet classified sensors are placed in hidden positions around the wreckage. In less than five minutes we are done.

"Move it or lose it."

We march out and return the way we came our vehicle a mere six mile hike away.

The team moves out rapidly, and I can sense their eagerness in getting out of this area.

Without warning, the wind howls like a demon and curtains of dust are now being picked up and hurled against us - a wind which was at our backs before but now slows us down and holds us back.

"Maybe if we tell the ghosts we mean no harm in coming here they will let us go" shouts Tech4 over the fury of the winds.

With melodramatic flair, and a penchant for the absurd, Tech4 starts to shout.

"Ohhhh greaaaat Kachinas! we are sorry, we are leaving now. Forgive our brief trespass."

Damned if the wind and dust don't die down suddenly - creeping us all out - and none more than Tech4.

I turn back, look at the desolate and arid wastes and wonder...

...maybe the Kachina's helped reveal that craft?
.
.
Nah...it couldn't be...
.
.
...could it?
.
.
.
SDAI-Tech1