Nasha paused, rubbing her cheek. There was a deep scratch there, still red and swollen. "Then how do you explain--_it_? According to your theory the inhabitants must have died in their skins, fried like yams. But who fired on us? Somebody detected us, made a decision, aimed a gun." "And gauged distance," the Captain said feebly from the cot in the corner. He turned toward them. "That's the part that worries me. The first shell put us out of commission, the second almost destroyed us. They were well aimed, perfectly aimed. We're not such an easy target." "True." Fomar nodded. "Well, perhaps we'll know the answer before we leave here. What a strange situation! All our reasoning tells us that no life could exist; the whole planet burned dry, the atmosphere itself gone, completely poisoned." "The gun that fired the projectiles survived," Nasha said. "Why not people?" "It's not the same. Metal doesn't need air to breathe. Metal doesn't get leukemia from radioactive particles. Metal doesn't need food and water." There was silence. "A paradox," Nasha said. "Anyhow, in the morning I think we should send out a search party. And meanwhile we should keep on trying to get the ship in condition for the trip back." "It'll be days before we can take off," Fomar said. "We should keep every man working here. We can't afford to send out a party." Nasha smiled a little. "We'll send you in the first party. Maybe you can discover--what was it you were so interested in?" "Legumes. Edible legumes." "Maybe you can find some of them. Only--" "Only what?" "Only watch out. They fired on us once without even knowing who we were or what we came for. Do you suppose that they fought with each other? Perhaps they couldn't imagine anyone being friendly, under any circumstances. What a strange evolutionary trait, inter-species warfare. Fighting within the race!" "We'll know in the morning," Fomar said. "Let's get some sleep." * * * * * The sun came up chill and austere. The three people, two men and a woman, stepped through the port, dropping down on the hard ground below. "What a day," Dorle said grumpily. "I said how glad I'd be to walk on firm ground again, but--" "Come on," Nasha said. "Up beside me. I want to say something to you. Will you excuse us, Tance?" Tance nodded gloomily. Dorle caught up with Nasha. They walked together, their metal shoes crunching the ground underfoot. Nasha glanced at him. "Listen. The Captain is dying. No one knows except the two of us. By the end of the day-period of this planet he'll be dead. The shock did something to his heart. He was almost sixty, you know." Dorle nodded. "That's bad. I have a great deal of respect for him. You will be captain in his place, of course. Since you're vice-captain now--"