"With the 'copters, I think. Since I can place her to within a couple of inches. I'll put her squarely into that far corner, where she'll be out of everybody's way." "No concrete out there," Garlock said. "But the ground seems good and solid." "We'd better not land on concrete," James grinned. "Unless it's terrific stuff we'd smash it. On bare ground, the worst we can do is sink in a foot or so, and that won't hurt anything." "Check. A few tons to the square foot, is all. Shall we strap down and hang onto our teeth?" "Who do you think you're kidding, boss? Even though I've got to do this on manual, I won't tip over a half-piece standing on edge." James stopped talking, pulled out his scanner, stuck his face into it. The immense starship settled downward toward the selected corner. There was no noise, no blast, no flame, no slightest visible or detectable sign of whatever force it was that was braking the thousands of tons of the vessel's mass in its miles-long, almost-vertical plunge to ground. When the _Pleiades_ struck ground the impact was scarcely to be felt. When she came to rest, after settling into the ground her allotted "foot or so," there was no jar at all. "Atmosphere, temperature, and so on, approximately Earth-normal," Garlock said. "Just as our friend said it would be." James scanned the city and the field. "Our visit is kicking up a lot of excitement. Shall we go out?" "Not yet!" Belle exclaimed. "I want to see how the women are dressed, first." "So do I," Lola added, "and some other things besides." Both women--Lola through her Operator's scanner; Belle by manipulating the ship's tremendous Operator Field by the sheer power of her Prime Operator's mind--stared eagerly at the crowd of people now beginning to stream across the field. "As an anthropologist," Lola announced, "I'm not only surprised. I am shocked, annoyed, and disgruntled. Why, they're _exactly_ like white Tellurian human beings!" "But _look_ at their _clothes_!" Belle insisted. "They're wearing anything and everything, from bikinis to coveralls!" "Yes, but notice." This was the anthropological scientist speaking now. "Breasts and loins, covered. Faces, uncovered. Heads and feet and hands, either bare or covered. Ditto for legs up to there, backs, arms, necks and shoulders down to here, and torsos clear down to there. We'll not violate any conventions by going out as we are. Not even you, Belle. You first, Chief. Yours the high honor of setting first foot--the biggest foot we've got, too--on alien soil." "To hell with that. We'll go out together." "Wait a minute," Lola went on. "There's a funny-looking automobile just coming through the gate. The Press. Three men and two women. Two cameras, one walkie-talkie, and two microphones. The photog in the purple shirt is really a sharpie at lepping. Class Three, at least--possibly a Two." "How about screens down enough to lep, boss?" Belle suggested. "Faster. We may need it."