The voice from the ground said carefully:
"Better stand by your controls. If anything happens down here you may need to take emergency action."
Calhoun raised his eyebrows. But he said:
"All set."
He felt the cushiony, fumbling motions as force fields from the landing grid groped for the Med Ship and centered it in their complex pattern. Then there came the sudden solid feeling when the grid locked on. The Med Ship began to settle, at first slowly but with increasing speed, toward the ground below.
It was all very familiar. The shape of the continents below him were strange, but such unfamiliarity was commonplace. The voice from the ground said matter-of-factly:
"We think everything's under control, but it's hard to tell with these paras. They got away with some weather rockets last week and may have managed to mount war heads on them. They might use them on the grid, here, or try for you."
Calhoun said:
"What are paras?"
"You'll be briefed when you land," said the voice. It added: "Everything's all right so far, though."