He’d taken to talking to the nodule in the last few hours. Now he said, “We can make it. Don’t you worry.” As he was chattering, his eyes fell on the small TV unit, but there would be no stations here, he told himself—for the tenth time. Still…. He turned the set on and just sat there, staring at the glowing empty screen, until finally he fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next thing he knew, he was wide awake. The time-dial showed that he’d slept for several hours. But something had awakened him. What was it? It took him several moments before he realized that a pattern was trying to form on the TV screen. Quickly he leaned forward, but the pattern wouldn’t stabilize. Instead there was static. His excitement grew, and suddenly the static turned into words.

“Turn off your illumination at once. Then leave your nodule,” the voice said. The patterns jumped, but no images formed.

“What? Are you talking to me? Who are you?” Proteus shouted.

“Repeat. Proteus. Turn off your illumination. Then leave your nodule. Search parties are out looking for you. We can’t take the chance of using this channel any longer. If you receive this message, follow our directions. Wait for us. We’re friends. You have nothing to be worried about.”

“How do you know who I am? Who are you? Where are the search parties?” But the screen turned opaque. Proteus tried the other channels, but they were dead. For a moment he thought he’d imagined the whole thing. Who was out there? What did they want? Should he do what they said? The bumpy air was rushing all around the nodule. Any second now it could crash to the ground; ruined. He’d collapse it because of that; to save it, he thought. Then find a hiding place and see what happened. He couldn’t turn the illumination off anyhow as long as the nodule was inflated; the lighting was automatic.

He looked out again, this time searching for what he’d hoped to avoid earlier—an area of trees—only with a clearing to settle down in. It was a good hour before the nodule drifted close to any brush at all. Even then Proteus hesitated. He was under surveillance! He couldn’t get over it. He’d seen no signs of anyone, and he certainly hadn’t seen any Earth copters, such as a search party from home might use here.

The brush was coming closer. Quickly he grabbed his survival kit and pressed the nodule-collapse lever. Holding his breath, he came outside on the platform again, down the wobbly steps to the ground. The nodule shuddered, wrinkled, and collapsed beside him, a small white plastoid bag the size of a valise.