itself balanced. It was not in full control.

"Clear the room!"

"Watch out!"

The probe sensed pin-pricks of light, showing through the damaged doors. It turned and rammed its blunt end, It's 'head' at them. The doors burst open, and a sharp triangle of sunlight cut across the floor. Turning for a third try, the probe managed to break through this time. It spun dizzily as it climbed higher and higher into the sky.

Gasping, people gathered outside to watch.

"Not one of ours," said one man.

"Who sent it then?"

"Where's it heading?"

"We've got Hubble onto it. Arcturus I think."

"Arcturus? What's out there?"

The probe was invisible to the naked eye now. Only the exquisite tools of man could keep it "in sight'. They turned as they tracked, following it in hypothetical terms, projected from its last know direction, as far as Saturn, and presumably beyond, until only a very rough estimate could be given. It was gone and still going, far away, past cold, barren Pluto.

And in the year 3004, when the probe returned to them, the scientists in the star system remote from Earth played the data back and listened with great pleasure.

"Words!" they said, "And wind!"

"Is that a machine?"

"Some sort of flying devise. Probably a helicopter!"

"Mountains."

"Is it one of ours?"

"Listen!"

"Can't tell. No markings. "

"Dig it out a bit more. "

The sound of axes, chipping ice.

"American?"