The figure didn't move. He didn't even blink his eyes. He only stared. Not a flicker of movement crossed his face.
"He's dead," Mick said. He bent his legs and shot up to the ledge beside the man. "Dead and turned to stone!"
"Stone?"
"Ice, rather. He's frozen hard as a rock. Probably he's been here for years. Not enough heat to thaw him out."
"But why hasn't he fallen down?" Alf asked.
"Why should he? There's hardly enough gravity to pull him down; there's no wind to blow him down. There are no earthquakes on a planet as small as this."
"How did he get there?"
Mick shrugged his shoulders. It was a puzzle, certainly; but there were possible solutions. The first and most logical was that this fellow had exposed himself, rather than to die a lingering death from starvation or lack of oxygen.
"Let's take a look at his quarters," Mick suggested.
He dropped lightly to the ground and entered the lock. He quickly inspected the lock control apparatus, making sure that the outer doors would function properly. Then he closed the locks and opened the inner doors.