den turned on the space phone. Nothing. He frowned. A grounded ship
awaiting help should transmit a beam signal to guide its rescuer. But
nothing came up from the ground.

Patrolman Willis looked at him uncertainly. Sergeant Madden rumbled and
swung the telescope below. The surface of the planet appeared--deep
water, practically black beneath a surface reflection of daytime sky.
The image shifted--a patch of barren rocks. The sergeant glanced at the
survey picture, shifted the telescope, and found the northern-most
island. He swelled the picture. He could see the white of monstrous surf
breaking on the windward shore--waves that had gathered height going all
around the planet. He traced the shoreline. There was a bay up at the
top.

He centered the shoreline of the bay and put on maximum magnification.
Then he pointed a stubby forefinger. A singular, perfectly straight
streak of black appeared, beginning a little distance inland from the
bay and running up into what appeared to be higher ground. The streak
ended not far from a serpentine arm of the sea which almost cut the
island in half.

"That'll be it," said Sergeant Madden, rumbling. "The _Cerberus_ had to
land on her rockets. She had some ground speed. She burned a ten-mile
streak on the ground, coming down." He growled. "Commercial skippers!
Should've matched velocity aloft! Take her down."

The squad ship drove for ground.

Patrolman Willis steadied the ship no more than a few thousand feet
high, above the streak of scorched ground and ashes.

"It was heading inland, all right," rumbled Sergeant Madden. "Lucky! If
it'd been heading the other way, it could've gone out and landed in the
sea. That would ha' been a mess! But where is it?"

The squad ship descended farther. It followed the lane of carbonized
soil. That marking narrowed--the _Cerberus_ had plainly been descending.
Then the streak came to an end. It pinched out to nothing. The
_Cerberus_ should have been at its end.

It wasn't. There was no ship down on Procyron III.

* * * * *

The matter ceased to be routine. If the liner's drive conked out where
Procyron III was the nearest refuge planet, it should have landed here
at least six days ago. Some ship had landed here recently.

"Set down," grunted Sergeant Madden.

Patrolman Willis obeyed. The squad ship came to rest in a minor valley,
a few hundred yards from the end of the rocket-blast trail. Sergeant
Madde