Carter glanced around his small ship. Its maximum capacity was fifteen; he could just about make it. "I'll be right down," he said. "Give me landing coordinates."
They read off a string of figures and he computed an orbit. Minutes later, he had set his ship down in the exact spot they had selected, only to find the planet bare of life and no Earthmen in sight.
He had looked around, puzzled. Then the rangy spaceman had struck him from behind.
And now, Carter was following his captive through a wild, untamed jungle, heading into some strange mystery at whose nature he could only guess. The titanium plate in his skull was beginning to itch faintly as he moved deeper and deeper into the jungle.
After a while, signs of inhabitation began to appear. Carter spotted the golden hull of a spaceship towering above the trees, and touched his guide's arm. "Is that the Vanguard?"
"Yes."
Behind the ship, Carter could now see a large clearing, and people moving around in it, clad in the uniform of the Survey Division of the Intergalactic Federation. There was a building in the background, square and dull-gray.
A man stepped forward to meet them. He was distinguished-looking and wore the uniform of a Squadron Leader.
"I'm Gendron," he said. "Commander of the Vanguard."
"The name's Dave Carter, navigator, late of Starship Alpha Centauri. I picked up your SOS call."