"Large masses of it," echoed Ronaro.
"Here in the surface waters. That can only mean...."
"Intelligent life," the two minds chorused.
High at the top of the vision screen appeared the bottom of a long narrow metal hull. It was unmistakably a metal ship, the work of intelligent minds, an indication of culture and civilization.
"Only one of us will try to communicate this time," directed Ekrado. "You do it, Ronaro."
This contact was entirely different. Ronaro's questing mind at once encountered intelligence. There was purpose there, not the mindless urges of hunger and fear that they had met before, but rational purpose backed by planning. But there was something else Ronaro sensed beneath the surface, something alien.
"Ekrado!" he exclaimed, shocked. "These creatures are air breathers!"
"Air breathers!" snorted the Captain. "Have you drifted into fantasy Ronaro? Establish contact with them."
"I can't," Ronaro replied after a few moments of intense concentration. "Their minds cannot receive our thought impulses."
"We've got to attract their attention. After they have seen us we'll be able to work out some method of communication."