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this danger Doctor Morbius spoke about? What is it?”
    The reply was definitely longer in coming than any of the others had been, and I noticed again a very fast changing and rechanging of the light-patterns.
    “Question not understood,” said the metal voice at last. “Please reframe.”
    Adams said, very slowly, “What is the danger referred to by Doctor Morbius?”
    The reaction to this was startling. The grating sound which always seemed to accompany speech rose to a high-pitched whine, and the lights flashed crazily. And then, as the sound stopped abruptly, they went out. And the thing was dead again.
    Farman muttered, “What’s it done—blown a fuse?” And then, before anyone else had spoken, the lights came on again in the bulbous head-piece. I thought they were in the same simple pattern as they’d been at the start, but I couldn’t be certain.
    The thing said, “I am to take Commander and Officers to Doctor Morbius.” Exactly as it had at first.
    Adams turned his back on it. He walked away a few paces, beckoning to Farman and Quinn, and then to me. We followed and stood around him and he said, “Two of us’ll go. Me and Jerry. Lon, you’ll be in command here. As we leave, get back in the ship, and keep a track on me all the time.” He tapped at the small glittering cylinder on his audio-video set; it was clipped to his belt and looked almost like part of the buckle.
    “Okay, Skipper,” Quinn had obviously recovered from his pique.
    Adams said, “Leave sentries outside. Keep the two big blast-guns manned. And have the tractor assembled right away; in case you have to come after us.”
    “Right,” said Quinn—and Adams said, “Any comments?” and looked at each of us in turn.
    Farman and Quinn shook their heads. But I said, “Excuse me, Skipper, but you don’t quite know what you and Jerry might run into, do you?”
    Adams said., “Your guess is as good as mine, Doc.”
    I said, “But it could be trouble, obviously—”
    “So?”
    “So I think three’s a better number than two,” I said. “And I’m not decrepit. And I have a hundred-eighty rating with this—” I touched the holster of my D-R pistol—“and there’s nothing much I could help Lonnie with on the ship—”
    I didn’t have to finish, because Adams grinned one of his fleeting grins. “All right,” he said. “All right!” The grin faded fast, and he looked at Quinn again. “That’s it, then.”
    “Right,” said Quinn, and added, “Good luck.” And then was off. I heard him shout to the Bosun as I followed Adams and Farman back to where the Robot stood.
    I caught up with them as Adams stopped a few feet from the thing. He said, “Robby—” and the lights came on in their first pattern—“we’re ready to go to Doctor Morbius.”
    “Thank you,” clanked the metal voice. “Follow please.” The Robot turned and started, at its long lumbering stride, back toward its vehicle.
    As we followed, I turned and looked back. With the exception of three sentries, there was no one to be seen now. The bright ship still squatted like an alien growth on the red sand, with the green-blue light shimmering on her hull and the blue-grey pinnacles of rock thrusting themselves up in clusters all around her. It was all there—and all real—and all completely improbable.
    And, to cap all improbabilities, here was I, Charles Xavier Ostrow, about to drive away over the unlikely desert, in a preposterous jaunting car piloted by a mechanical caricature of a human, in company with two hard-faced youngsters and heading for something, someone, some place and situation about which none of us knew anything . . .
    II
    That was quite a trip. Our watches said it took less than fifteen minutes, but it seemed a great deal longer than that. Maybe because I had my eyes shut half the time.
    We started, with tremendous acceleration which made me thank God for the safety belts we’d found on the seats, heading straight across the desert for