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They were queer-looking specimens, these gentle, willing allies of the Earthmen. Their home planet is a place of ever-clouded skies and constant torrential rains. And so the Venusians were amphibians, web-footed, fish-faced, their skin a green covering of horny scales that shed water and turned the sharp thorns of their native jungles. When intrepid explorers discovered in the mazes of Mercury’s spongy interior the surta that was so badly needed as a base material for synthetic food to supply Earth’s famine-threatened population, it was to these loyal and amiable beings that ITA’s engineers turned for workers who could endure the stifling heat of the underground workings.

The tent-flap was thrust aside, and a hawk-nosed Scot came sleepily in, to be enthusiastically greeted by Jim.

“Hello, you old Caledonian. ‘Bout time you showed up.”

* * * * *

The newcomer fixed the speaker with a dour gaze. “An’ why should I commence my tour o’ dooty befair the time?”

“Because your chief, Mr. Darl Thomas, decided that he’s a filliloo bird or somethin’, flew to his little nest up top, an’ forgot to come down again.”

“Is this ain o’ your jests, James Holcomb? I eenquire mairly that I may ken when to laugh.”

“It’s no joke, Mac. Last I see o’ him he’s skippin’ around the roof like he has a buzzin’ propeller stuck to his shoulder blades. He lights on th’ air-lock platform, pops inside, an’ goes dead for all I know.”

From his bony legs to his scrawny neck the Scotchman’s angular body, as nearly nude as that of the others, radiated the doubt that was expressed in every seam and wrinkle of his hatchet face.

“That’s straight, Angus, may I kiss a pink-eared vanta if it ain’t. Here’s what happened.” The bantering grin disappeared from Jim’s countenance as he detailed the events that had preceded Darl’s vanishing. “That was two hours ago,” he concluded, “and I’ve been getting pretty uneasy about him.”

“Why did na ye call me, so that ain o’ us micht eenvestigate?”

“Hell. Darl wasn’t born yesterday, he can take care of himself. Besides, your last shift was pretty strenuous, an’ I thought I’d let you sleep. No tellin’ what might happen next; this forsaken place has been givin’ me the jim-jams lately.”

“Your conseederation is touching, but–” A scratching at the door, accompanied by a high squeak, interrupted him.

* * * * *

To Jim’s shouted “Come in,” there entered a Venusian, whose red rosette fastened to the green scales of his skin marked him an overseer. In the thread-like fingers of his hand he held a time-sheet, but the nervous pulsing of his gill-membranes caused Holcomb to exclaim anxiously: “What’s wrong, Ran-los? No accident, I hope?”

The shrill combination of squeaks and twitterings that came from the man-reptile’s toothless mouth meant nothing to the Scot, but Jim’s last service had been on Venus and he had gained a working knowledge of the language. Finally the interchange was ended, and Ran-los bowed himself out. Jim turned to his companion.

“There’s some more queer stuff for you, Angie. Just before shift-change, Ran-los heard odd sounds from the other side of the barrier at the end of gallery M-39. Says they seemed like signals o’ some kind. He’s a wise old bird and if he’s worried about something it’s damn well worth lookin’ into. I don’t know whether to find out first what’s happened to Darl, or–“

Again there was an interruption; this time from the usually silent radio-communication set in the far corner. Jim leaped to the instrument and snapped on the head-set. Angus leaned over him, watching his intent face.

Faintly, as from an immense distance, came the thin whistle of space-radio. “S-W-A … S-W-A … S-W-A….” The general attention signal for all Earth’s far-flung outposts from Jupiter to Mercury! The signal was coming from “M-I-T-A,” the Earth company’s home station on the Moon, outside the Heaviside layer. “S-W-A … S-W-A … M-I-T-A … M-I-T-A.” Again the signal rose and fell.