The four of us managed to haul Quade back by using the powered joints in our suits. Hoffman suggested that he had once seen an injured man walked back inside his suit like a robot, but it was a delicate adjustment, controlling power circuits from outside a suit. It was too much for us--we were too tired, too numb, too drunk. At first sight of the spacer in the distance, transphasia left me with only a chocolate-tasting pink after-image on my retina. It was now showing bare skeleton from cannibalization for tractor parts, but it looked good to me, like home. The wailing call sounded through the amber twilight. I realized that I was actually _hearing_ it for the first time. The alien stood between us and the ship. It was a great pot-bellied lizard as tall as a man. Its sound came from a flat, vibrating beaver tail. Others of its kind were coming into view behind it. "Stand your ground," I warned the others thickly. "They may be dangerous." Quade sat up on our crisscross litter of arms. "Aliens can't be hostile. Ethnic impossibility. I'll show you." Quade was delirious and we were drunk. He got away from us and jogged toward the herd. "Let's give him a hand!" Farley shouted. "We'll take us a specimen!" I couldn't stop them. Being in Alpine rope with them, I went along. At the time, it even seemed vaguely like a good idea. As we lumbered toward them, the aliens fell back in a solid line except for the first curious-looking one. Quade got there ahead of us and made a grab. The creature rose into the air with a screaming vibration of his tail and landed on top of him, flattening him instantly. "Sssh, men," Nagurski said. "Leave it to me. I'll surround him." The men followed the First Officer's example, and the rope tying them to him. I went along cheerfully myself, until an enormous rump struck me violently in the face. My leaded boots were driven down into fertile soil, and my helmet was ringing like a bell. I got a jerky picture of the beast jumping up and down on top of the others joyously. Only the stiff space armor was holding up our slack frames. "Let's let him escape," Hoffman suggested on the audio circuit. "I'd like to," Nagurski admitted, "but the other beasts won't let us get past their circle." It was true. The aliens formed a ring around us, and each time a bouncing boy hit the line, he only bounced back on top of us. "Flat!" I yelled. "Our seams can't take much more of this beating." I followed my own advice and landed in the dirt beside Quade. The bouncer came to rest and regarded us silently, head on an eighty-degree angle. I was stone sober. The others were lying around me quietly, passed out, knocked out, or taking cover. The ring of aliens drew in about us, closer, tighter, as the bouncer sat on his haunches and waited for us to move. * * * * * "Feeling better?" I asked Quade in the infirmary.