. In a moment the door
was closed behind him, air was hissing into the lock again.

He started to open the face-plate of his helmet, longing for a breath
of air that did not smell of sweat and stale tobacco smoke, as that in
his suit always did, despite the best chemical purifiers. Then he
hesitated. Perhaps some deadly gas, from the combustion chambers....

Thad opened the inner valve, and came upon the upper deck of the
vessel. A floor ran the full length of the ship, broken with hatches
and companionways that gave to the rocket rooms, cargo holds, and
quarters for crew and passengers below. There was an enclosed ladder
that led to bridge and navigating room in the dome above. The hull
formed an arched roof over it.

The deck was deserted, lit only by three dim blue globes, hanging from
the curved roof. All seemed in order--the fire-fighting equipment
hanging on the walls, and the huge metal patches and welding equipment
for repairing breaks in the hull. Everything was clean, bright with
polish or new paint.

And all was very still. The silence held a vague, brooding threat that
frightened Thad, made him wish for a moment that he was back upon his
rugged ball of metal. But he banished his fear, and strode down the
deck.

Midway of it he found a dark stain upon the clean metal. The black of
long-dried blood. A few tattered scraps of cloth beside it. No more
than bloody rags. And a heavy meat cleaver, half hidden beneath a bit
of darkened fabric.

Mute record of tragedy! Thad strove to read it. Had a man fought here
and been killed? It must have been a struggle of peculiar violence, to
judge by the dark spattered stains, and the indescribable condition of
the remnants of clothing. But what had he fought? Another man, or some
thing? And what had become of victor and vanquished?

He walked on down the deck.

The torturing silence was broken by the abrupt patter of quick little
footsteps behind him. He turned quickly, nervously, with a hand going
instinctively to his welding arc, which, he knew, would make a fairly
effective weapon.

* * * * *

It was merely a dog. A little dog, yellow, nondescript, pathetically
delighted. With a sharp, eager bark, it leaped up at Thad, pawing at
his armor and licking it, standing on its hind legs and reaching
toward the visor of his helmet.

It was very thin, as if from long starvation. Both ears were ragged
and bloody, and there was a long, u