Slowly, the ring of spectators closed tighter. They were twenty yards from the ship when the voice spoke to them.
"Greetings from Venus," it said, and then repeated the phrase in six languages. "The ship you see is a Venusian Class 7 interplanetary rocket, built for one-passenger. It is clear of all radiation, and is perfectly safe to approach. There is a hatch which may be opened by an automatic lever in the side. Please open this hatch and remove the passenger."
An Air Force General whom Jerry couldn't identify stepped forward. He circled the ship warily, and then said something to the others. They came closer, and he touched a small lever on the silvery surface of the funnel.
A door slid open.
"It's a box!" someone said.
"A crate—"
"Colligan! Moore! Schaffer! Lend a hand here—"
A trio came forward and hoisted the crate out of the ship. Then the voice spoke again; Jerry deduced that it must have been activated by the decreased load of the ship.
"Please open the crate. You will find our delegate within. We trust you will treat him with the courtesy of an official emissary."
They set to work on the crate, its gray plastic material giving in readily to the application of their tools. But when it was opened, they stood aside in amazement and consternation.