"You are no less pleased than I," Thuko agreed. "But we must take care that nothing happens to the ship in that time. Loss of it would mean the end of all this."
He did not need to mention the reason. Koosh knew that it was because the small craft was the only one in existence. At least, as far as Mars was concerned. And of course that was because—well, actually it was not a Martian ship.
Thousands of years ago a lone, exploring Jovian had landed on Mars. After brief inspection of the machine, the Martians had decided it was a thing much worth having. They promptly murdered the Jovian, thereby neatly solving the problem of how to gain the gleaming silver sphere for themselves.
Operation of the ship had proved only a matter of learning the right buttons to push. And the Martians were more than capable of making the few simple repairs it required from time to time. But they were stumped completely by the anti-gravity plates that drove it. All attempts to duplicate them had ended fruitlessly. The original would have to serve them until another Jovian came.
"Where shall we put it for safekeeping?" Koosh asked. Then, answering his own question, "I imagine a likely place would be on the roof of an unoccupied building in whatever city we choose as our initial—ah—host."
"That is a good suggestion," said Thuko. "A rooftop would be ideal. Let us proceed to find one in a suitable metropolis."
Reentering the ship they took it aloft and skimmed over Earth's surface, presently coming above a large city. A Terran would have recognized it as Chicago. Eye-stalks pressed to the quartz window, the alien pair scrutinized closely each building they passed over.
"There's one!" exclaimed Koosh. He pointed with the longest three of his nine tendril-like appendages. "See it, Thuko?"
"I see it. Yes, it is obviously empty of life and has been for some time. Set down the sphere, Koosh."
Ten minutes later they were standing on a gravelled rooftop, sucking in more of the wonderful air of this hospitable world.