The satellite had been in space less than a year. The development of spaceflight had put an end to the possibility of war on Earth by bringing into being a watchdog for the uneasy planet.
Put a satellite in the sky. Arm it with enough fission-fusion bombs to blast any country to flinders. Man it with a squad chosen from the leading countries of the world and let them keep watch over one another. Any threat of aggression on the mother planet could easily be squashed by the more potent threat of blazing vengeance from the skies. The satellite was the guardian of the world's peace.
The five men chosen to be the first crew were almost ideal for the job—sensitive, intelligent men, skilled in the techniques of spaceflight, loyal to the countries of their birth. There wouldn't be any chance of collusion among them, of a conspiracy against one country or against Earth itself, as some feared.
Their tasks for the hours immediately after the discovery of the strange spaceship were mostly routine; Lal dictated a comprehensive report on the spaceship and beamed it to United Nations Headquarters on Earth, while Beveridge and Golovunoff, spacesuited, filmed the alien ship from every conceivable angle, inside and out. Lasseux and Gregson tended to the workings of the satellite, overseeing the cybernetic governors which had the actual responsibility of operating the big wheel in the sky.
Lasseux was cook that night, according to the strict rotation that had been set up. The men ate a strange meal; their spirits seemed oddly dampened by the spaceship that had so unpredictably come into their midst. Lal's words preyed on them despite themselves. Suppose there had been an invisible alien aboard that ship? Suppose he lurked aboard the wheel this very moment?
"Suppose," said Beveridge suddenly, "that alien ship was an invasion scout."
"What's that?" Gregson asked.
"What I mean is, the advance guard of an invasion force. The alien finds the satellite and, being telepathic, parks here a while to see what's going on." He giggled self-consciously. "I'm speaking imaginatively, of course. The alien moors here and reads our minds; finds out we have a load of bombs here that can blow up the works down there. So he comes drifting out of the ship and takes over someone of us here. When no one else is looking—poof!—Earth is destroyed like that!" Again Beveridge giggled.
Gregson looked at him sourly. "You better leave those crazy magazines alone, Beveridge."
But Lasseux interjected, "We should devote careful attention to what he has said. There may be a grain of truth in it. After all, who moored the spaceship?"