The aliens began marching out of the houses, in twos from the ten-foot doors, singly from the foot-square openings of every other facing wall.
It wasn't his world of fire-works-streaked Ohio summers and bold green hills, this planet cowled with nun-like secrecy, looking acrid, tasting violet and transmitting a beauty and confusion only a trio of physical scientists could solve.
But there was only one thing to do.
Barnhart let down his force field and went out.
The human body wasn't well-adapted for it but Barnhart did his best to join the quronos in xenogutting.
Instantly the cry welled up.
"Master."
Barnhart stood up and faced the aliens, deeply disturbed.
He was even more disturbed when, later, he wrote again in his journal: