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They were gathered in the central room of the ship ten minutes after the all-clear rang through the corridors, informing everyone that the landing had been safely accomplished. From the portholes they could see the white bones of the Mavis’s crew lying on the reddish sand of the valley bottom.

“There they are,” Jervis said quietly. “Just bones. Those were my shipmates.”

Wayne saw Sherri repress a shudder. Little heaps of bones lay here and there on the sand, shining brightly in the hot sun. That was the crew of the Mavis–or what was left of them.

Colonel Petersen entered the room and confronted the crew. “We’re here,” he said. “You know the schedule from now on. No one’s to leave the ship until we’ve made a check outside, and after that–assuming it’s OK to go out–no more than six are to leave the ship at any one time.”

He pointed to a row of metal magnetic tabs clinging to the wall nearest the corridor that led to the airlock. “When you go out, take one of those tabs and touch it on your suit. There are exactly six tabs. If none are there, don’t go out. It’s as simple as that.”

Four men in spacesuits entered the room, followed by two others. The leader of the group saluted. “We’re ready, sir,” he said.

“Go out and get a look at the bodies,” the colonel told the men, who were Medical Corpsmen. “You know the procedure. Air and sand samples too, of course.”

The leader saluted again, turned, and left. Wayne watched the six spacesuited figures step one at a time to the wall, withdraw one of the metal tabs, and affix it to the outer skin of his suit. Then they went outside.

Captain Wayne and Sherri James stood by one of the portholes and watched the six medics as they bent over the corpses outside. “I don’t get it, I just don’t understand,” Wayne said quietly.

* * * * *

“What don’t you get?” Sherri asked.

“Those skeletons. Those men have only been dead for two months, and they’ve been reduced to nothing but bones already. Even the fabric of their clothing is gone. Why? There must be something here that causes human flesh to deteriorate much faster than normal.”

“It does look pretty gruesome,” Sherri agreed. “I’m glad we’ve been ordered to keep our spacesuits on. I wouldn’t want to be exposed to anything that might be out there.”

“I wonder–” Wayne muttered.

“What? What’s the matter?”

Wayne pointed to one figure lying on the sand. “See that? What’s that over his head?”

“Why–it’s a space helmet!”

“Yeah,” said Wayne. “The question is: was he wearing just the helmet, or the whole suit? If he was wearing the whole suit, we’re not going to be as well protected as we thought, even with our fancy suits.”

Fifteen minutes passed slowly before the medics returned, and five minutes more before they had passed through the decontamination chambers and were allowed into the ship proper. A ring of tense faces surrounded them as they made their report.

* * * * *

The leader, a tall, bespectacled doctor named Stevelman, was the spokesman. He shrugged when Colonel Petersen put forth the question whose answer everyone waited for.

“I don’t know,” the medic replied. “I don’t know what killed them. There’s dry bones out there, but no sign of anything that might have done it. It’s pretty hard to make a quick diagnosis on a skeleton, Colonel.”

“What about the one skeleton with the bubble helmet?” Peter Wayne asked. “Did you see any sign of a full suit on him?”

Stevelman shook his head. “Not a sign, sir.”

Colonel Petersen turned and glanced at Lieutenant Jervis. “Do you remember what the circumstances were, Lieutenant?”