I forgot do do the disclaimer thing. "Anne McCaffrey is the owner of anything Pern. I, however, am playing in her sandbox, and do not plan to profit from this story."

I do, however, hope you all like it!

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It appeared as a small speck in the sky. An observer might have realised, from the relative speed of its descent, that it couldn't have been falling for more than a few thousand feet. But late at night, in Toledo, Ohio, no one saw it arrive.

In unchecked freefall, it should have crashed into the trees of Swan Creek Park - part of the Toledo Metroparks off Airport Highway - with devastating force. It didn't. Just before impact, it stretched and grew, giving the impression of unfurling wings - lessening the damage when it hit the canopy of the forest below.

Surprisingly, the trees had cushioned the blow, breaking its fall even further. In an even more amazing coincidence, it found itself in a small grassy clearing, devoid of large rocks and stumps. Gasping for breath it lay on the cool damp grass in a state of stupor, amazed that it was still alive. Slowly the immediate silence caused by the crashing object began to fill with the sounds of the night: an owl hooted, crickets began chirping and movement commenced in the underbrush. Background noise which had been more prominent during the short silence of the forest faded to its original buzz.

A smaller figure raised itself up from on top of the original entity, tiredly looking around as if to ascertain its whereabouts, then collapsed as if too exhausted or traumatized to worry about what it thought. The two figures, one large and one small, lay there breathing hard and marvelling at their continued existence.

Starting as a low whisper, then gaining volume in a piercing wail, sirens screamed in the night, causing the smaller figure to rise up again in alarm.

"Shit!" it said.

* * * * *

Special Agent Derek Zimmerman was in his shorts watching reruns of "The 4400" on the Sci-Fi channel when an alarm sounded on the department-provided radio above his TV. The police scanner was going off as he flew out of his house, but he turned it on in his Mazda as he pulled the Blackberry out of his pocket. The radio, provided by his "government" job was actually a special type of scanner, which was also hooked into his Blackberry. He noted that the disturbance detected by his scanner was relatively close by - it would be about a twenty minute drive from his house on Michigan Avenue in Maumee. He hoped he would get there before the locals - it would be much easier if he did.

No longer needing the Blackberry for its GPS function, he used it to call his supervisor in Washington, DC. There were agents all over the country prepared for such an occurrence, the last being about three years ago somewhere in Idaho. Thinking back on his training, he realized this was the first time in about three decades one of these disturbances had happened in a fairly populated area. Was this phenomenon occurring more often? Before he could reflect more on the frequency of the disturbances, the line at the other end was answered.

"Cooper." The voice was deep and clipped.

"Matt, it's Zimmerman. We've got another one."