had an ancient and alien look.

We held our course steadily, watching the stranger maneuver. Even at
this distance it looked huge.

"Captain," Clay said, "I've been making a few rough calculations. The
two spheres are about 800 yards in diameter, and at the rate the
structure is rotating it's pulling about six gravities."

That settled the question of human origin of the ship. No human crew
would choose to work under six gee's.

Now, paralleling us at just over two hundred miles, the giant ship spun
along, at rest relative to us. It was visible now through the direct
observation panel, without magnification.

* * * * *

I left Clay in charge on the bridge, and I went down to the Com Section.

Joyce sat at his board, reading instruments and keying controls. So he
was back on the job. Mannion sat, head bent, monitoring his recorder.
The room was filled with the keening staccato of the alien transmission.

"Getting anything on video?" I asked. Joyce shook his head. "Nothing,
Captain. I've checked the whole spectrum, and this is all I get. It's
coming in on about a dozen different frequencies; no FM."

"Any progress, Mannion?" I said.

He took off his headset. "It's the same thing, repeated over and over,
just a short phrase. I'd have better luck if they'd vary it a little."

"Try sending," I said.

Joyce tuned the clatter down to a faint clicking, and switched his
transmitter on. "You're on, Captain," he said.

"This is Captain Greylorn, UNACV Galahad; kindly identify yourself." I
repeated this slowly, half a dozen times. It occurred to me that this
was the first known time in history a human being had addressed a
non-human intelligence. The last was a guess, but I couldn't interpret
our guest's purposeful maneuverings as other than intelligent.

I checked with the bridge; no change. Suddenly the clatter stopped,
leaving only the carrier hum.

"Can't you tune that whine out, Joyce?" I asked.

"No, sir," he replied. "That's a very noisy transmission. Sounds like
maybe their equipment is on the blink."

We listened to the hum, waiting. Then the clatter began again.

"This is different," Mannion said. "It's longer."

I went back to the bridge, and waited for the next move from the
stranger, or for word from Mannion. Every half hour I transmitted a call
identifying us, followed by a sample of our language. I gave them
English, Russian, and Standard Interlingua. I didn't kno