The wait grew longer and the boy fidgeted. Couldn't the clerk find them? Rick hoped the base hadn't run out, because that would mean a delay on his project. Already he thought of it as "his," and he was impatient as any of the project staff to push the work to completion.
The clerk reappeared, a single carton and a sheet of paper in hand. The man's face was white and his eyes looked as though they were about to drop out. He grabbed the phone on the counter and dialed, missed because his hand was shaking so, and dialed again. This time he got the number.
"Security? Is this security? Get over here, quick! Warehouse Eight. Hurry! The Earthman has been here!"
Rick stared, popeyed. The Earthman! He asked quickly, "What happened?"
The clerk swallowed hard. Obviously he was scared stiff. "They were empty," he said. "All of them. Empty! Honest! And in one I found this." He handed Rick the scrap of paper he carried.
Rick smoothed it out on the counter and his pulse speeded. It was a good sketch, done in ink, of a knight in full armor. Crushed under one mailed foot was a rocket. The knight carried a shield, and emblazoned on it were two words.
Homo Terrestrialis.
The mark of the Earthman!
Hank Leeming, Rick's security officer roommate, and an older man he identified as Colonel Tom Preston, Chief of Security, pulled up at the door in a jeep and hurried inside.
Preston took over. "All right, Jimmy. What's this about the Earthman?"