"I'm completely at a loss to clarify," said the Squadron Leader. "So far as I know, we sent out no SOS. We're in no danger here. We haven't even begun to complete our work. I'm sorry if we've caused you some inconvenience."
Carter shook his head. Maybe I'm going batty, he thought. Maybe that blast aboard the Alpha C juggled my brains as well as cracked my skull. Maybe I didn't hear any SOS after all.
"Okay," he said finally. "I'll go back to my ship and blast off. Forget the whole thing."
"That might be the best idea," Gendron agreed. "Would you want Sherman to show you the way?"
"I think I can find it myself," Carter said. He turned and headed out of the clearing, trying to convince himself that he still had a little of his sanity left.
He moved about three steps. Then something struck him a ringing blow on the back of his head, and he toppled to the ground.
Carter woke, feeling as if a mountain had fallen on him. His head ached miserably, his eyes wouldn't focus, his tongue felt thick and sand-papery.
He tried to move his hands, and discovered that he was securely bound. His arms were strapped together with what looked like leather thongs, and his ankles were tied as well.
He was in a dark, windowless room—probably somewhere in the squat building in the clearing.