Suddenly a rough branch scraped along the side, making metallic echoes in the double walls. Seconds later the ship settled with a gritty crunching. A few kicks of the drive leveled it off.
II
There was profound silence for a moment after the drive died away. Someone yelled "Wahoo!" Then Rogers came clattering down the ladder. He beckoned to Stuart, who was already climbing out of the seat eagerly.
"Time for the landing party," said the scout. He eyed the camera. "Remember now, play your cards close to your chest. Don't go skittering off to take pictures. First we patrol once around the ship, then we get the camouflage nets pegged down, right away. Then we sit tight 'till we've had a good look around in daylight."
As they approached the arms locker, they found Nestor drawing out three blast-rifles. He held out two of them. "Your weapons, gentlemen," said the chubby engineer, bowing. "I'm guarding the airlock while you're out there. And next time we cut cards for this little privilege, I'm going to shuffle the deck myself. Six years in the Patrol before this trip, and I've been first-to-land only once in my life!"
The linguist smiled, feeling his taut nerves relax a bit. He pushed the Outside Test button beside the lock at the end of the corridor. A green light flashed. "Air's already been okayed," Nestor told him.
Stuart pushed another button. The inner door withdrew from its permoid gasket and swung aside. The three men clanked into the echoing airlock chamber, where a touch on a third stud slid shut the inner door and opened the outer.
The night lay mysterious before them, full of exotic odors, unfamiliar sounds, and double shadows. The slender linguist clambered like an eager monkey down the fin rungs and stood inhaling deeply.
He was adjusting his camera when Rogers whispered in his ear, "Come on, let's make a tour around the clearing." Into his microphone, the scout reported: "Beginning our circuit, chief. Circling counterclockwise."