And to make matters worse, this unexplored region of space had few suns and fewer planets. Perhaps there was a slight possibility of replenishing their water supply, but the odds were enormous against finding anything they could eat. "Look at that place," Casker growled. Hellman shook himself out of his reverie. The planet was like a round gray-brown porcupine. The spines of a million needle-sharp mountains glittered in the red dwarf's feeble light. And as they spiraled lower, circling the planet, the pointed mountains seemed to stretch out to meet them. "It can't be _all_ mountains," Hellman said. "It's not." Sure enough, there were oceans and lakes, out of which thrust jagged island-mountains. But no sign of level land, no hint of civilization, or even animal life. "At least it's got an oxygen atmosphere," Casker said. Their deceleration spiral swept them around the planet, cutting lower into the atmosphere, braking against it. And still there was nothing but mountains and lakes and oceans and more mountains. On the eighth run, Hellman caught sight of a solitary building on a mountain top. Casker braked recklessly, and the hull glowed red hot. On the eleventh run, they made a landing approach. "Stupid place to build," Casker muttered. The building was doughnut-shaped, and fitted nicely over the top of the mountain. There was a wide, level lip around it, which Casker scorched as he landed the ship. * * * * * From the air, the building had merely seemed big. On the ground, it was enormous. Hellman and Casker walked up to it slowly. Hellman had his burner ready, but there was no sign of life. "This planet must be abandoned," Hellman said almost in a whisper. "Anyone in his right mind would abandon this place," Casker said. "There're enough good planets around, without anyone trying to live on a needle point." They reached the door. Hellman tried to open it and found it locked. He looked back at the spectacular display of mountains. "You know," he said, "when this planet was still in a molten state, it must have been affected by several gigantic moons that are now broken up. The strains, external and internal, wrenched it into its present spined appearance and--" "Come off it," Casker said ungraciously. "You were a librarian before you decided to get rich on uranium." Hellman shrugged his shoulders and burned a hole in the doorlock. They waited. The only sound on the mountain top was the growling of their stomachs. They entered. The tremendous wedge-shaped room was evidently a warehouse of sorts. Goods were piled to the ceiling, scattered over the floor, stacked haphazardly against the walls. There were boxes and containers of all sizes and shapes, some big enough to hold an elephant, others the size of thimbles. Near the door was a dusty pile of books. Immediately, Hellman bent down to examine them.