a mighty rushing of air against the invincible outer walls, the machine hurtled downwards and over the first mass of buildings and came to rest. Once it touched ground, it noticeably slithered like a car on a wet roadway. Then with a jerk it halted.
Silence. The power plant was cut off and from outside there were no sounds. The four crowded around the observation window, gazing at the distant remnants of the crude buildings. They were little better than cottages, or even mid-African villages. Certainly they did not suggest a high form of civilization. Behind them, glittering mountains rose up like creations of a wonderland, with a cobalt blue cloudless sky beyond.
“Pretty—but confoundedly bright,” Viona muttered. Then she lifted her goggles and looked with her normal eves. The glare was hurtful but not so penetrating as she had expected.
Seeing her action, the Amazon, Abna, and Mexone followed suit, then glanced at each other in surprise.
“No worse than white pavements at high noon,” the Amazon said at length “Wonder why? In space we couldn’t stand to even look at it.”
The Amazon seemed about to make further comment, then she stopped herself as the first evidences of life on this queer world became evident. In the far distance, coming from the direction of the dwellings, was a running horde of people, advancing with all the excitement and energy of savages on the warpath. Yet, in a sense, they did not appear savage: quite the contrary. There was a certain childlike enthusiasm about their activity as they swept nearer and nearer.
In a very few minutes they had reached the Ultra and begun to assemble around it. More came from the distance, until at last there must have been several hundred. In silence the quartet looked out on them from the higher elevation of the observation window.
“For some reason,” the Amazon said, “I’m reminded of one Gulliver on the island of Lilliput.’”
There was a certain amount of logic in her simile. The people were all small-statured, yet exactly like Earth people in their formation. Their attire was extremely scanty, but in certain cases was embellished with crude armlets and anklets of the all-prevailing silver metal. In actual appearance they were somehow immature—with smooth, laughing faces and hair crudely cut. At the moment they seemed to be having a good deal of amusement prancing around the machine and grinning and gesticulating to one another.
“They are not mature people,” the Amazon said at length, with a trace of disappointment. “They’re behaving exactly like ten-year-old children. I had somehow hoped for clever scientists. I suppose we must stay here?”
“All the more reason why we should, I think,” Viona commented. “Their development is such as to show that they are adult, both the men and the women—but their intelligence doesn’t match it. Seems to me it’s up to us to find out why.”
“Childlike adults on a world of silver,” Abna sighed. “What next, I wonder?” He moved to the airlock switch. “All right, here we go!”
The ponderous airlock swung open very slowly, and the four made to stride forward—but that was as far as they got. Like children suddenly told of a candy horde, the little people came surging into the ship, laughing and chattering amongst themselves, until the control room was full of them. It left the quartet towering up like islands amidst a flood, and for a moment they stood watching curiously, weighing up these beings of a fantastic planet.
Children with adult bodies! There was no getting away from it. They were mature all right, yet their actions and emotions were miles behind their physical development.
They seemed quite suddenly to become aware of the visitors and when they did so they fell back quickly, as though realizing they had in some way perhaps committed an indiscretion. Big-eyed and wondering, they stood waiting—crowding out through the airlock into the brilliantly sunny spaces outside.
“Friends,” Abna said deliberately, pointing to himself and then the others. “We come as friends. Can you understand me?”
Apparently not, from the blank looks that greeted him. And, typically childlike, one or two of the little people giggled to themselves, either at the heavy timbre of Abna’s voice, or else his enormous height.
“Kids!” the Amazon sighed regretfully. “I think we ought to be on our way, Abna. We’re not school teachers.”
“We haven’t finished yet,” Abna responded. “Just because our experiences up to now have brought us into contact with highly developed civilizations, it’s no reason for ignoring one that’s exactly the opposite.… Anyway, the language difficulty is no problem. Viona, switch on the Educator.”
Viona reached out a slim hand and obliged. The eyes of the little people immediately turned to one of the countless machines ranged against the wall—and in particular to one that resembled a gigantic helmet with a chair fixed beneath it.
“Exchange information?” the Amazon questioned. “Force our language upon them?”
“Exactly.” Abna nodded briefly; then suddenly he lunged out and caught one of the little men by the arm. It was simple to force him, obviously not a little frightened, to the chair beneath the instrument. Clamps dropped in place and prevented him from escaping.
“No harm intended,” Abna smiled at him, and though he knew his words were unintelligible, they seemed nevertheless to have an effect, for the little man relaxed and waited.
“Right,” Abna nodded, and again Viona reached to the control panel and applied the power. There was no sound save a faint humming, but all the time it persisted the quartet knew that every detail of their own basic language was being engraved indelibly on the little man’s brain—a fact quite obvious from the astounded expression on his face. He was no longer frightened, but bewildered.
Abna signaled, and the hum of power ceased. The little man sat limply in his chair, not unconscious but with all the fight and energy knocked out of him.
“You are not hurt, my friend?” Abna asked quietly; and the big blue eyes turned to him.
“No—not hurt.” The words were used awkwardly, and plainly for the first time. “I am wondering what miracle it is that enables you to do this to me—to transfer your language into my brain without the need of learning.”
“That is but one of the many miracles of which we are capable, my friend. As you will have gathered, we are from another world, and we come peacefully to exchange information with you.”
The little man nodded slowly and then looked at his gaping colleagues. Men and women alike were watching in dazed silence.
“From what world do you come?” the little man asked.
“Far away, my friend—many light-years. It is not important. Your world attracted us, so we came to it. We would like to know more about it.”
“There is not much to tell. This planet is called Tuca, and we are the descendants of the Asronians, a race of great scientists who unfortunately were a trifle too brilliant for their own good.”
Abna frowned with sudden interest. Holding out his hand, he helped the little man from his chair to a standing position, and seemingly conscious that he alone had been singled out for the great moment, the little man stood erect and proud.
“My name is Doxa,” he said, and inclined his head of thick woolly black hair in a slight
