"Hold it!" I grabbed Foster's arm and pointed overhead. "What's that?" Foster looked up. A brilliant point of blue light, brighter than a star, grew perceptibly as we watched. "Maybe we won't get to notify anybody after all," I said. "I think that's our bomb--coming home to roost." "That's illogical," Foster said. "The installation would hardly be arranged merely to destroy itself in so complex a manner." "Let's get out of here," I yelled. "It's approaching us very rapidly," Foster said. "The distance we could run in the next few minutes would be trivial by comparison with the killing radius of a modern bomb. We'll be safer sheltered in the cleft than on the open." "We could slide down the tunnel," I said. "And be buried?" "You're right; I'd rather fry on the surface." We crouched, watching the blue glare directly overhead, growing larger, brighter. I could see Foster's face by its light now. "That's no bomb," Foster said. "It's not falling; it's coming down slowly ... like a----" "Like a slowly falling bomb," I said. "And it's coming right down on top of us. Goodbye, Foster. I can't claim it's been fun knowing you, but it's been different. We'll feel the heat at any second now. I hope it's fast." The glaring disc was the size of the full moon now, unbearably bright. It lit the plain like a pale blue sun. There was no sound. As it dropped lower, the disc foreshortened and I could see a dark shape above it, dimly lit by the glare thrown back from the ground. "The thing is the size of a ferry boat," I said. "It's going to miss us," Foster said. "It will come to ground several hundred feet to the east of us." We watched the slender shape float down with dreamlike slowness, now five hundred feet above, now three hundred, then hovering just above the giant stones. "It's coming down smack on top of Stonehenge," I yelled. We watched as the vessel settled into place dead center on the ancient ring of stones. For a moment they were vividly silhouetted against the flood of blue radiance; then abruptly, the glare faded and died. "Foster," I said. "Do you think it's barely possible----" A slit of yellow light appeared on the side of the hull, then it widened to a square. A ladder extended itself, dropping down to touch the ground. "If somebody with tentacles starts down that ladder," I said, in an unnaturally shrill voice, "I'm getting out of here." "No one will emerge," Foster said quietly. "I think we'll find, Legion, that this ship of space is at our disposal." * * * * * "I'm not going aboard that thing," I said for the fifth time. "I'm not sure of much in this world, but I'm sure of that." "Legion," Foster said, "This is no twentieth century military vessel. It obviously homed on the transmitter in the underground station, which appears to be directly under the old monument--which is several thousand years old----"