 Upon landing, Craig is greeted by whom?
Rootless and footloose, a man in space can't help but dream of coming home. Flight Officer Robert Craig surrendered the tube containing his service record tapes and stood waiting while the bored process clerk examined the seal. "No specific destination," supplied the man as he punched a key on a small instrument, "Air-lock ahead and to your right. Craig obeyed the robot voice and began reluctantly to remove his flight jacket. "Well, what's next?" asked Craig somewhat more belligerently than he had intended. "Oh, I've landed a few times, even walked around for a while...." Through the ports of the headquarters base satellite, he scanned the constellations for the scores of worlds he had visited during his eleven years in space. He had been on Einstein IV, the planet of eight moons, and had felt the pulse of all eight of the satellites at once that no PON could completely nullify. But even if he could accept the psychologist's authority for the cumulative effect of a gravity system, he could not understand the unspoken warning he felt underlying all that the man said. "Mr. Craig," the psychologist said slowly, "you have my authorization for you to return to Terra as a private citizen of that planet. On the eighth day, two attendants, who showed the effects of massive doses of PON to protect themselves from the centrifugal force, had to carry a man out of the tank. Many others asked to be removed, begged to be allowed to withdraw their resignations. "The twelfth day is the worst," a grizzled spaceman told Craig. "How ... how do they know when you ought ... to come out?" Two white-clad figures, ridiculously out of proportion, hovered wraithlike over him. By the fourteenth day, Craig knew he could stand Grav 1. Either that or they had begun to produce ultra-sonic waves. The huge headquarters base centrifuge aboard the man-made satellite had gradually caused their bodies to respond once more to a single source of pull. They were now ready to become inhabitants of planets again, instead of free-falling ships. On the eighteenth day, automatic machinery freed them from their imprisoning cots. Then they again began taking paraoxylnebutal in preparation for the free-fall flight to Terra. Only one of the score of men in the centrifuge tank remained voluntarily in his cot. "Space article violator," the old man informed Craig. "Not to Chociante, if that's what you mean.
 Two screening technicians
 A reporter and his cameraman  Two members of Terra's welcoming committee  Two screening technicians  A psychologist and his assistant