Cattle would not be found deep in a mountainous terrain.  The mine would not be on a prairie.  The settlement on Orede, then, would be near the edge of mountains, not far from a prairie such as wild cattle would frequent, and it would be in a temperate climate.

Forested areas could be ruled out.  And there would be a landing-grid.  Handling only one ship at a time, it might be a very small grid.  It could be only hundreds of yards across and less than half a mile high.  But its shadow would be distinctive.

Calhoun searched among low mountains near unforested prairie in a temperate zone.  He found a speck.  He enlarged it manyfold.  It was the mine on Orede.  There were heaps of tailings.  There was something which cast a long, lacy shadow:  the landing-grid.

“But they don’t answer our call,” observed Calhoun, “so we go down unwelcomed.”

He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency rockets boomed.  The ship plunged planetward.

A long time later it was deep in the planet’s atmosphere.  The noise of its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce the sound.

“Hold on to something, Murgatroyd,” commanded Calhoun.  “We may have to dodge some ack.”

But nothing came up from below.  The Med Ship again inverted itself, and its rockets pointed toward the planet and poured out pencil-thin, blue-white, high-velocity flames.  It checked slightly, but continued to descend.  It was not directly above the grid.

It swept downward until almost level with the peaks of the mountains in which the mine lay.  It tilted again, and swept onward over the mountaintops, and then tilted once more and went racing up the valley in which the landing-grid was plainly visible.  Calhoun swung it on an erratic course, lest there be opposition.

But there was no sign.  Then the rockets bellowed, and the ship slowed its forward motion, hovered momentarily, and settled to solidity outside the framework of the grid.  The grid was small, as Calhoun reasoned.  But it reached interminably toward the sky.

The rockets cut off.  Slender as the flames had been, they’d melted and bored thin drill-holes deep into the soil.  Molten rock boiled and bubbled down below.  But there seemed no other sound.  There was no other motion.  There was absolute stillness all around.  But when Calhoun switched on the outside microphones a faint, sweet melange of high-pitched chirpings came from tiny creatures hidden under the vegetation of the mountainsides.

Calhoun put a blaster in his pocket and stood up.

“We’ll see what it looks like outside,” he said with a certain grimness.  “I don’t quite believe what the vision screens show.”

Minutes later he stepped down to the ground from the Med Ship’s exit port.  The ship had landed perhaps a hundred feet from what once had been a wooden building.  In it, ore from the mines was concentrated and the useless tailings carried away by a conveyer belt to make a monstrous pile of broken stone.  But there was no longer a building.