world was three-quarters drowned in water. But there were
two factors that weighed so heavily against that choice that they rendered
it impossible. In the first place, by far the greater proportion of the
local inhabitants' commerce was between the asteroids and the third
planet. Second, and much more important, the fourth world was at such a
point in her orbit that the energy required to land would destroy the ship
beyond any doubt.

It would have to be the third world.

As the ship fell inward, the Nipe watched his pitifully inadequate
instruments, doing his best to keep tabs on every one of the
feebly-powered ships that the local life form used to move through space.
He did not want to be spotted now, and even though the odds were against
these beings having any instrument highly developed enough to spot his
craft, there was always the possibility that he might be observed
optically.

So he squatted there in the ship, a centipede-like thing about five feet
in length and a little less than eighteen inches in diameter, with eight
articulated limbs spaced in pairs along his body, any one of which could
be used as hand or foot. His head, which was long and snouted, displayed
two pairs of violet eyes which kept a constant watch on the indicators and
screens of the few instruments that were still functioning aboard the
ship.

And he waited as the ship fell towards its rendezvous with the third
planet.

II

Wang Kulichenko pulled the collar of his uniform coat up closer around his
ears and pulled the helmet and face-mask down a bit. It was only early
October, but here in the tundra country the wind had a tendency to be
chill and biting in the morning, even at this time of year. Within a week
or so, he'd have to start using the power pack on his horse to
electrically warm his protective clothing and the horse's wrappings, but
there was no necessity of that yet. He smiled a little as he always did
when he thought of his grandfather's remarks about such "new-fangled
nonsense".

"Your ancestors, son of my son," he would say, "conquered the tundra and
lived upon it for thousands of years without the need of such womanish
things. Are there no men anymore? Are there none who can face nature alone
and unafraid without the aid of artifices that bring softness?"

But Wang Kulichenko noticed--though, out of politeness, he never pointed
it out--that the old man never failed to take advantage of the electric
warmth of the