Get that rifle up fast, Granger commanded himself.
"I repeat," said the face at the window. "Lower your weapon."
They'll let you have it anyway, Granger thought grimly. He slowly curled his finger around the trigger and started to move when he was jarred off his feet by a roaring blast that ripped the door from its hinges and sent it crashing against the rear wall of the cabin.
Outside the ruined entrance stood a group of aliens all armed. Fearfully, he looked to the window, but their leader was gone. In a second he appeared at the door, moved inside the cabin, and Granger automatically stepped back, his hazy mind calculating roughly the few feet of escape route remaining to him. In a moment he was there, his back flattened against the cabin wall.
The short creature kept coming on, its murky orbs fixed on Granger's white, drawn countenance. Then it stopped its advance.
"So you have one of our people," it said in a voice that twanged like piano wire.
Granger tried once in vain for his voice, then gave up. He stared over the head of his foe at the silent assembly outside the cabin, then at the thing in the packing crate. It was sitting there, quiet, immobile, but intently watching the scene between the earthman and his visitor.
"You are holding one of us captive," the commander remarked. "This is a most unfortunate situation, indeed." The small figure stepped aside quickly and waved an arm.
Granger, perspiration trickling down his face, watched a score of glistening weapons raised and pointed inside the cabin. For a second he looked directly at the menacing horde. Then his eyes saw nothing. A blazing flash of white light burst forth from the doorway, and it was all over.
Granger forced open his aching eyes and squinted in the direction of the fiery blast, but the doorway was empty. The commander was still there, though, walking slowly to the door.