"Such life is of no importance. Approach, please, one of you, and grasp with a hand the projecting metal knob."
With a little trepidation, Garlock did so. He felt no unusual sensation at the contact.
"All four of you are compatible and we accept you. This finding is surprising in the extreme, as you are the first human beings of record who grade higher than what you call Gunther Two ... or Gunther Second?"
"Either one; the terms are interchangeable."
"You have minds of tremendous development and power; definitely superior even to my own. However, there is no doubt that physically you are perfectly compatible with our humanity. Your blood will be of great benefit to it. You may land. Goodbye."
"Wait, please. How about landing conventions? And visiting restrictions and so on? And may we keep this box? We will be glad to trade you something for it, if we have anything you would like to have?"
"Ah, I should have realized that your customs would be widely different from ours. Since you have been examined and accepted, there are no restrictions. You will not act against humanity's good. Land where you please, go where you please, do what you please as long as you please. Take up permanent residence or leave as soon as you please. Marry if you like, or simply breed—your unions with this planet's humanity will be fertile. Keep the box without payment. As Guardians of Humanity we Arpalones do whatever small favors we can. Have I made myself clear?"
"Abundantly so. Thank you, sir."
"Now I really must go. Goodbye."
Garlock glanced into his plate. The jets had disappeared, the helicopter was falling rapidly away. He wiped his brow.