An hour later Baiel and I stood at the control panel reading through the list of damages. Remarkably little had happened--nothing, at least, that we could not repair with material we had at hand. We organized all survivors into repair crews of five each; even the women were given assignments. Baiel and I made preliminary soil tests for fissionable metals. The computer prognosis from such highly selective data is never infallible, but the probable degree of error is no more than .0006. Over a period of two hours we made five tests, with the same results. There was fissionable matter on the planet--no doubt of that--but it was locked in a chemical combination we could not release without building a giant separation plant such as we used on Earth. "Our data is too limited if we sample so close to the ship," I told Baiel. "Possibly." There was a long pause before he added the prescribed, "sir." I nodded toward the hill sloping away from the glacier toward a forest of tangled pines. "We'll make another test down there." With a shrug, Baiel followed after me obediently. Three miles from the _Olympus_, in a thick grove of trees, we found the man. Naked, he lay bound over a heap of boulders, his dead eyes staring up at the sky. A gash had been torn in his chest and his blood had spilled out over chunks of glacial ice arranged in a crude pyramid beside him. To both of us, the sight of a man and the thing it implied was vaguely terrifying. For almost five centuries expeditions of Earthmen had explored the skies, slowly reaching beyond our own solar system toward the stars. Where the atmosphere was hospitable, we had built thriving colonies. But nowhere had we found a race of people like ourselves. The planets had been so consistently untenanted that we had grown to expect nothing else. Now here, on this unknown world, twenty-five million light years beyond the periphery of the Earth patrols--here we found men, men like ourselves! Baiel cut the thongs and lifted the rigid body off the pile of rock. "If you don't mind, Captain," he said, "I'd like to examine--this--up in the ship lab. Since there's a chance--just a chance, sir"--His sarcasm was unmistakable, "--that we'll be staying here, I want to know what we're up against." Late that night, while the rest of the expedition slept, Baiel and I carried the body into the laboratory. Baiel performed a thoroughgoing, workman-like autopsy. It was impossible not to admire his efficiency and skill. We were momentarily united in the rising excitement of mutual curiosity. "There's a fascinating structural similarity to our own," Baiel pointed out. "Identical organs; identical blood composition. All the differences are minor--a smaller brain case, with a retreating forehead, and pronounced orbital ridges. And look at those teeth and the chinless jaw!" "In a way, it suggests Bonn's Hypothesis," I said.