"I shall stop it before it lands. Don't worry."

The humans were all talking at once. Some of them had started to run toward the falling Ship. Some were running away from it.

Masklin risked a glance at Grandson Richard's face. It was watching the Ship with a strange, rapt expression.

As Masklin stared, the big eyes swiveled slowly sideways. The head turned around. Grandson Richard, 39, stared down at the nome on his shoulder.

For the second time, the human saw him. And this time, there was nowhere to run.

Masklin rapped the Thing on its lid.

"Can you slow my voice down?" he said quickly. An amazed expression was forming on the human's face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you just repeat what I say, but slowed down. And louder. So it-so he can understand it?"

"You want to communicate? With a human?" "Yes! Can you do it?"

"I strongly advise against it! It could be very dangerous!"

Masklin clenched his fists. "Compared to what, Thing? Compared to what?

How much more dangerous than not communicating, Thing? Do it! Rightnow! Tell him ... tell him we're not trying to hurt any humans! Rightnow! I can see his hand moving already! Do it!" He held the box right upto Grandson Richard's ear.

The Thing started to speak in the low, slow tones of human speech.

It seemed to go on for a long time.

The human's expression froze.

"What did you say? What did you say?" said Masklin.

"I said. If he harms you in any way I shall explode and blow his head off," said the Thing.

"You didn't!"

"I did"

"You call that communicating?"

"Yes. I call it very effective communicating."

"But it's a dreadful thing to say! Anyway ... you never told me youcould explode!"

"I can't. But he doesn 't know that. He's only human," said the Thing.

The Ship slowed its fall and drifted down across the scrubland until itmet its own shadow. Beside it, the tower where the shuttle had beenlaunched looked like a pin alongside a very large black plate.

"You landed it on the ground! I told you not to!" said Masklin.

"It's not on the ground. It is floating just above the ground."

"It looks as though it's on the ground to me!"

"It is floating just above it," repeated the Thing patiently.

Grandson Richard was looking down the length of his nose at Masklin. He looked puzzled.

"What makes it float?" Masklin demanded.

The Thing told him.

"Auntie who? Who's she? There are relatives on board?"

"Not auntie. Anti. Antigravity."

"But there's no flames or smoke!"

"Flames and smoke are not essential."

Vehicles were screaming toward the bulk of the Ship.

"Um. Exactly how far off the ground did you stop it?" Masklin inquired.

"Four inches seemed adequate."

Angalo lay with his face pressed into the sandy soil.

To his amazement, he was still alive. Or at least, if he was dead, then he was still able to think. Perhaps he was dead, and this was wherever you went afterward.

It seemed pretty much like where he'd been before.

Let's see, now. He'd looked up at the great thing dropping out of the sky right toward his head, and had flung himself down expecting at any second to become just a little greasy mark in a great big hole.

No, he probably hadn't died. He'd have remembered something important like that.

"Gurder?" he ventured.

"Is that you?" said Gurder's voice.

"I hope so. Pion?"

"Pion!" said Pion, somewhere in the darkness.

Angalo pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

"Any idea where we are?" he said.

"In the Ship?" suggested Gurder.

"Don't think so," said Angalo. "There's soil here, and grass and stuff."

"Then where did the Ship go? Why's it all dark?"

Angalo brushed the dirt off his coat. "Dunno. Maybe ... maybe it missed us. Maybe we were knocked out, and now it's nighttime?"

"I can see a bit of light around the horizon," said Gurder. "That's not right, is it? That's not how nights are supposed to be."

Angalo looked around. There was a line of light in the distance. And there was also a strange sound, so quiet that you could miss it but that, once you had noticed it, also seemed to fill up the world.

He stood up to get a better view.

There was a faint thump.

"Ouch!"

Angalo reached up to rub his head. His hand touched metal. Crouching a little, he risked turning his head to see what it was he'd hit. He got very thoughtful for a while. Then he said, "Gurder, you're going to find this amazingly hard to believe."

"This time," said Masklin to the Thing, "I want you to translate exactly, do you understand? Don't try to frighten him!"

Humans had surrounded the Ship. At least, they were trying to surround it, but you'd need an awful lot of humans to surround something the size of the Ship. So they were just surrounding it in places.

More trucks were arriving, many of them with sirens blaring. Grandson Richard, 39, had been left standing by himself, watching his own shoulder nervously.

"Besides, we owe him something," said Masklin. "We used his satellite.

And we stole things."

"You said you wanted to do it your way. No help from humans, you said," said the Thing.

"It's different now. There is the Ship," said Masklin. "We've made it.

We're not begging anymore."

"May I point out that you're sitting on his shoulder, not him on yours," said the Thing.

"Never mind that," said Masklin. "Tell it-1 mean, ask him to walk toward the Ship. And say 'please.' And say that we don't want anyone to get hurt. Including me," he added.

Grandson Richard's reply seemed to take a long time. But he did start to walk toward the crowds around the Ship.

"What did he say?" said Masklin, hanging on tightly to the sweater.

"I don't believe it, " said the Thing.

"He doesn't believe me?"

"He said his grandfather always talked about the little people, but he never believed it until now. He said, Are you like the ones in the old Store?"

Masklin's mouth dropped open. Grandson Richard, 39, was watching him intently.

"Tell him yes," Masklin croaked.

"Very well. But I do not think it'll be a good idea."

The Thing boomed. Grandson Richard rumbled a reply.

"He says his grandfather made jokes about little people in the Store," said the Thing. "He used to say they brought him luck."

Masklin felt the horrible sensation in his stomach that meant the world was changing again, just when he thought he understood it.

"Did his grandfather ever see a nome?" he said.

"He says no. But he says that when his grandfather and his grandfather's brother were starting the Store, and stayed late every night to do the office work, they used to hear sounds in the walls and they used to tell each other there were little Store people. It was a sort of joke.

He says that when he was small, bis grandfather used to tell him about little people who came out at night to play with the toys."

"But the Store nomes never did things like that!" said Masklin.

"I didn 't say the stories were true."

The Ship was a lot closer now. There didn't seem to be any doors or windows anywhere. It was as featureless as an egg.

Masklin's mind was in turmoil. He'd always believed that humans were quite intelligent. After all, nomes were very intelligent. Rats were quite intelligent. And foxes were intelligent, more or less. There ought to be enough intelligence sloshing around in the world for humans to have some too. But this was something more than intelligence.

He remembered a book called Gulliver's Travels. It had been a big surprise to the nomes. There had never been an island of small people. He was certain of that. It was a-a-a made-up thing. There had been lots of books in the Store that were like that. They'd caused no end of problems for the nomes. For some reason, humans needed things that weren't true.