For a full minute, the figure stood there, for all the world as though he were on the surface of a planet instead of on the outer hull of a space station. Then, slowly, it lowered the thing in its hands. When nothing happened, the figure put the weapon down on the steel hull at its feet and held its oddly double-jointed arms out from its body.
"Wild Bill Hickok," breathed Blake softly.
"Huh?" said the major.
"Hickok used to say: 'I'm a peaceable man.' I guess that's what this guy's trying to say."
"Looks like it," agreed MacIlheny. "I wish there were some way of signaling him."
"We've got the spotlights," suggested the major.
MacIlheny shook his head. "Leave 'em alone. We couldn't make any sense with them, and our friend out there might think they were weapons of some kind. I don't know what that thing he laid down will do, but I don't want to find out just yet."
The alien, his hands still out from his sides, walked slowly toward the RJ-37, his legs moving with a strange, loose suppleness. He came right up to the forward window and peered inside—at least, the attitude of his head suggested peering; within the dark purple helmet, the features could not be distinguished clearly.
At last, the figure stepped back and started making wigwag signs with his arms.
"Smart boy," said MacIlheny. "He recognizes that the ship is remote controlled. Wonder what he's trying to say."