"The ship isn't wrecked," Hawkins said levelly. "It's in the same condition that it was in when it landed."
"It's not wrecked?" MacFarland repeated blankly. "Now who in hell—" He turned to Gallifa. "I thought we were the first crew on the planet," he said, almost accusingly. "It's very strange no one told us of any other expedition."
Gallifa frowned in annoyance. "We are the first. I'm sure of that. The other ship must be a free-lance." He turned to Hawkins. "How about the crew? Are they still with the ship?"
"They're still with the ship," Hawkins said quietly. "But they're all dead. It's quite a mess," he added simply.
"A mess?" Gallifa echoed. "Could you tell how they died? Was it a disease? Were they killed by some animals? Speak up, man!"
"You aren't going to believe this," Hawkins said grimly. "But it sure looks like they killed each other."
"Why would they want to do that?" MacFarland protested. "Are you sure, Hawkins? How could you tell, anyway?"
"I could tell," Hawkins insisted. "You better come and have a look for yourselves. I'll take you in the 'copter, then bring you back for the truck."
Gallifa shrugged, and the men joined Hawkins in the helijet. The mapping man handled the controls, and the ship soared into the air.
"There is something else kind of funny, too," Hawkins volunteered. "The ship landed almost on top of a colony of the screwiest bunch of things you ever saw. They look something like little gnomes, only with a pinkish fur. They are all around the ship, but they haven't bothered anything."