Everything was the same! Everything—but the Gyro-Gard were not there....
Then they saw the forest. It was not the same, not the one they had left. It was smaller and terminated in the muddy bank of a twisted river. On the opposite bank were scattered signs of habitation. But such habitation! The style was squat, the material was red oblong blocks set in rows upon each other.
There were grain fields. People working in the fields looked up at their passing, and evidenced excitement. People working in the open! Unsheltered by hills or caves!
Habitations became more frequent, and soon they flew over the square of a town. A town unprotected by a Nyloplast screen!
Allyn brought the aircraft lower. People were congregating in the square, gesticulating.
Allyn felt a stirring in his mind and, as plain as spoken words: "Come down. Land."
Hesitantly his fingers touched the controls. The thoughts in his brain were gentle, encouraging. He glanced at Marva. Her eyes were on the scene below, dreamy, lips half parted. Behind her Keeven watched. There was eagerness in his face.
"It's safe," he said to Allyn's questioning glance. "I sense it. They are friendly."
Allyn felt it too. There was reassurance in the sight of people gathering, without fear, in an unprotected area. He brought the gyro to a landing in the cleared space of the square.