"AMNESTY," THE ANCIENT ONE MUTTERED AS HE flew to a naval instillation near his home, "amnesty. We'll rebuild your country, our companies will invest there, if you give those who murdered your women and children amnesty, if you let them walk away. Damned if they will!" he cursed.
He landed by a rarely used warehouse and kicked the door off its hinges. He went inside to the warehouse's little office, picked up a phone, and dialed an 800 number, then keyed a six digit I.D. code. High above a communications satellite switched on a transmitter no one knew it had, and a hyper speed signal opened a frequency on a great starship hiding behind the moon.
A communications officer suddenly sat bolt upright. "Commander!" he screamed, "The sector Commander!"
The ship's commander quickly put on his headset and clicked on.
"Yes Sector Commander!" he snapped. "How may I help you?"
"I need a class two scout ship," The Ancient One answered, "twenty degrees west of Blue Hammer, and sixty-seven degrees south of Red Anvil. First click third cycle, tomorrow. Have them bring a remote control disconnect for a radio antenna standard fixtures for that area. Have them stand by until I arrive."
The Commander had been making notes and when The Ancient One had stopped speaking for several seconds answered. "Understood, Sector' Commander. Ship will be at your disposal."
"While I'm speaking with you," The Ancient One asked. "Any more trouble?"
"No, sector Commander," the ship Commander answered, "no ships have tried to slip by us and we have found no more missiles drifting in."
"Excellent!" The Ancient One answered. "'Til tomorrow!"
The next day The Ancient One flew east. He didn't like being out of his body so much. He was extremely tired but this was important. He found the ship exactly where it was supposed to be. As there was a driving rain they had landed. The Ancient One entered the ship. "Give me the remote!" he snapped.
The aliens obliged immediately. the Ancient One flew to a remote transmitter, opened it, attached the device and flew back. He then went to work with the little ship's controls, sit�ting its own transmitters to the frequency he wanted. Then he had to wait, listening.
Finally he heard what he was listening for. "Military transport 436 requesting permission to land Taracan Strip."
"Permission granted, 436," another voice answered. "Conditions poor, barely minimal. You'll have to use instrument approach."
"Understood, tower, 436 coming in on instruments. Have picked up directional beacons. Have a good fix."
The Ancient One watched a dot appear on his tracking screen. He flicked the switch activating his disconnect, and boosted his own signal. The dot began to drift to the left, slowly, surely The Ancient One listened.
"Tower, this is 436. We should be able to see your lights by now. Can't seem to.... " the dot on The Ancient One's screen suddenly stopped moving. For a few seconds thousands of little dots flew off in the general direction it had been going but then they disappeared.
The Ancient One shut off the disconnect and killed his own signal.
"Stand by," he told the ship's crew. He retrieved the disconnect, gave it back to them, then told them to get out of there. He then flew to a hillside some distance from the airport. The tail section of a plane stuck up from it. There was debris everywhere, and, bodies.
Disoriented Spirits wandered about, many of them backing off when he arrived. The Ancient One held out his hand and a shimmering tunnel of light appeared nearby. Several people em�erged from it, calling out. The wandering Spirits looked towards them, slowly joined them. They all disappeared into the tunnel and it faded away.
The Ancient One picked up a piece of charred rubber, walked over to the tail section and wrote on it; "Tell W.H. no amnesty, no damned amnesty!" He threw away the piece of rubber and winged homeward.
"They'll get the message," he muttered, "They'll get the damned message!"

The following are the texts of postcards we sent to the late night talk shows.

Patrick Troughton, British actor who Nas the second Doctor in the famous DOCTOR WHO series asked us to make some comments on the re�cent DOCTOR WHO movie produced by the Fox network.
It was fair, but the general opinion of all the previous Doctors is they don't like the way they changed the TARDIS. They made it look too primitive. Though it is supposed to be an older model this was a little bit ridiculous. Perhaps in future movies they can return a little bit of its character and dignity. Otherwise than that, they consider the movie a half decent effort, much better than they expected from 'the Colonials.'
We are surprised we got no calls on The World Series last year. Babe Ruth & the other base�ball players are irate about what happened in the playoffs with the Yankees & the Cardinals. After spitting on an umpire a player should be put out of the game the rest of the season. And when a fan interferes with a play, that play should be done over.