Mick who had been examining the damaged portion of the starboard rockets, glanced in the direction Alf was pointing. In even, nicely cultivated rows, stood tasseled stalks. "You don't suppose this place is inhabited by men!" Alf's voice was awed. "It can't be. There's no air," Mick replied. "Anyhow, it isn't corn. It must be something else. You know there are doubles all over the system. The Martian pumpkins aren't even vegetables, but they're a species of mollusk. Even if this is corn, it's different, because corn depends on carbon dioxide in the atmosphere." "Maybe there's carbon dioxide in the rocks." "Then this wouldn't be like terrestrial maize. Its leaves would serve some other purpose." "Mick! Look!" * * * * * As Alf spoke the rows of corn seemed to move. Bright phosphorescent beads seemed to pop from the tassels and float toward the two human beings. Like a rain of meteors, the brilliant specks came floating through the sky. But the brilliant shower fell with tantalizing slowness. Then one of the sparks dropped short, twenty feet from the feet of the spacemen. As it touched the ground, there was a bluish spark, and the rock beneath it glowed with heat. "Look out!" Mick cried. His hand unsnapped the lifeline. His legs doubled beneath his body and he shot upward into the air. Suddenly he plunged into daylight. The corona-crowned sun was sticking its head over the horizon. As Alf shot into the sky beside him, Mick noted that the ground was still dark, and that the terminator line that delineated night and day, still was a mile or so to the eastward, floating rapidly toward them. There were other things about this weird planet that also struck Mick's eyes. It was filled with growing things. Most of these were single stalks, crowned with a bluish bud. But there was a terrestrial note to some of the plants that clung to the rocks and sand of the asteroid. To the south was a huge tree, with gnarled branches and leaves. Tucked away in a small gully were reddish flowers that looked like roses in the distance. There were vines clinging to the rocks. The corn that had first attracted attention of the spacemen, occupied a small, rectangular patch and the stalks were so evenly spaced that the field suggested artificial cultivation. Slowly they came back toward the ground. Below was one of the budded stalks which slowly nodded its tip toward the terrestrials as their feet came in contact with the soil. Mick was ready this time. His gun was in his hand as the little white bead emerged from the tip of the bud. The gun sent a streak of flame into the middle of the stalk, and the plant was sliced as neatly as a knife could have cut through a stem. "It's not nearly as pleasant here as I expected," Alf panted into the phone of his space suit. "Who ever thought we'd have to fight plants on an asteroid?"