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instead of
solid cloth, Charlie got the impulse from one of the aliens who
glanced at him a moment.
For circulatory stimulation of the surface tissue,
so that the skin might breathe properly.
"Thanks, again," Charlie said.
He noticed they seemed fairly young, about as old
as his uncle. They were not half as old as they appeared in those
black robes which made them look like ancient monks. But all of
them were at least a foot or more taller than Charlie, in spite of
the fact that he was as tall as most Earthmen. Charlie wondered
what kind of sports they had on their own world, for they all
seemed pretty well built and they would be good at basketball or
whatever contests their world had. He almost asked them about their
sports—but checked himself. It might give them the idea that he
wanted to stay with them—and that was the last thing Charlie wanted
to happen.
They were paying him no attention at all, and
Charlie had a sudden angry thought. He wondered if they were
ignoring him now, telling him nothing of why they were holding him
either, just because of his age.
No, Primitive, came the casual impulse response, we
have no concern with your years. Nor are we concerned with the
problems of your small culture on this world. Neither interests
us.
Charlie didn't have time to open his mouth. They
were already walking toward the center of the deck. Hardly had they
reached the large cylinder-like pillar at the deck's center when a
panel slid open silently. All three alien men entered without a
backward glance at him. The panel closed.
He was still angry at their casual manner. He
couldn't get his mind off the mystery of where they came from, who
they were, and what they wanted.
Alone with Navajo, Charlie thought for a long time
about the strange aliens, their tallness and well-formed bodies,
and the familiar human qualities they had shown. • But in spite of
his relief at not finding the aliens to be some unbelievable
monster beings, he still couldn't forget the flashing green and
gold of their eyes, and the tiger look it gave them.
"Nav, I don't think I'd want to come across those
eyes in some dark place. So maybe it's a good thing they did wear
those doggone protective hoods, when we first saw them."
Navajo gave a low, brief whinny in reply and
bounced the head harness up and down as he showed his approval.
Charlie knew he didn't understand all his words, but he grinned
quickly and hugged the old horse about the neck. Whatever he said,
old Navajo always thought it was right.
Charlie went to where they had piled up their
protective clothing. It was made of something that looked like a
type of plastic material, very fine and light as feathers, and even
! the heavy looking boots surprised Charlie with their lightness.
But he still couldn't figure why they needed protective • clothing,
in spite of what they said. And most of all', they certainly
shouldn't need such clothes when the Sun had long
gone down. He wished he had asked them where they
came from.
Trying to locate the paneling in the big circular
pillar in the deck's center, he could find no crack at all or the
slightest trace of where a door might have been. The metal was
finely lined, grooved all over, and he was sure that one of those
hairline grooves must be the door crack—but which one, he didn't
know. Charlie pounded on it several times, but only the dull echo
of the hollow sound came back to him on the empty deck. The aliens
were now somewhere else in the great ship.
Going to the outer rim of the deck, Charlie circled
the entire tier, with Navajo clippety-clopping along behind him,
stopping when he did, as they both got nowhere. There was no
possible opening. He could dimly see the rusty iron-red surface of
Saddle Mountain outside, as he stared through the broad band of
window that circled the entire deck without a break. As he peered
out now the indirect lighting went out about the deck, its glow
fading down to nothing. There, far down, he could see the