No one answered. The thought had been voiced before, a hundred times.
Then, at last, the droning words:
"To those in the vessel from the planet Earth: You will now land. We will carry you directly over the field. Then you will descend straight down. The atmosphere is suitable to your type of life and is free of germs. You will not need protection."
The men stared at one another.
"Hey," Doyle said, "did you hear that? He says we can go down."
The men blinked. Captain Wiley swallowed hard. He rose with a stiff, slow, nervous hesitancy.
"We're going down," he mumbled, as if repeating the words over and over in his mind and trying to believe them.
The men stirred as realization sprouted and grew. They stirred like lethargic animals aroused from the long, dreamless sleep of hibernation.
"We're going to land," breathed Parker, unbelievingly.
The Wanderer moved as though caught in the grip of a giant, invisible hand.