———— Thump! The _Wanderer_ came to rest on a broad landing field of light blue stone. The jets coughed, spluttered, died. The ship quivered, then lay still, its interior charged with an electric, pregnant silence. "You first, Captain." Lieutenant Gunderson’s voice cracked, and his face was flushed. "You be the first to go outside." Captain Wiley stepped through the airlock, his heart pounding. It was over now—all the bewilderment, the numbness. And his eyes were shining. He’d waited so long that it was hard to believe the waiting was over. But it was, he told himself. The journey was over, and the waiting, and now the loneliness would soon be over. Mankind was not alone. It was a good universe after all! He stepped outside, followed by Lieutenant Gunderson, then by Parker, Doyle and Fong. He rubbed his eyes. This couldn’t be! A world like this couldn’t exist! He shook his head, blinked furiously. "It—it can’t be true," he mumbled to Lieutenant Gunderson. "We’re still on the ship—dreaming." The landing field was huge, perhaps ten miles across, and its sides were lined with incredible ships, the smallest of which seemed forty times as large as the _Wanderer_. There were silver ships, golden ships, black ships, round ships, transparent ships, cigar-shaped ships, flat-topped ships. And scattered over the field were—creatures. A few were the size of men, but most were giants by comparison. Some were humanoid, some reptilian. Some were naked, some clad in helmeted suits, some enveloped with a shimmering, water-like luminescence. The creatures walked, slithered, floated, crawled. Beyond the ships and the field lay the great city, its web-work of towers, minarets, spheres and bridges like the peaks of an enormous mountain range stretching up into space itself. The structures were like the colors of a rainbow mixed in a cosmic paint pot, molded and solidified into fantastic shapes by a mad god. "I—I’m going back to the ship," stammered Parker. The whiteness of death was in his face. "I’m going to stay with Brown." He turned, and then he screamed. "Captain, the ship’s moving!" Silently, the _Wanderer_ was drifting to the side of the field. The toneless voice said: "We are removing your vessel so that other descending ships will not damage it." Captain Wiley shouted into the air. "Wait! Don’t go away! Help us! Where can we see you?" The voice seemed to hesitate. "It is difficult for us to speak in thoughts that you understand." ———— Silence. Captain Wiley studied the faces of his men. They were not faces of conquerors or of triumphant spacemen. They were the faces of dazed, frightened children who had caught a glimpse of Hell. He attempted, feebly, to smile.