Arlen looked behind him. The locks of the space ship were open. He moved wearily to the door and stuck his head inside.
"McFerson!" he called.
There was no answer.
Arlen entered the ship. He carried his disintegrator in his hand. Venusians might have entered the ship ahead of him. Lights were still burning in the living quarters, but McFerson was gone.
Arlen moved on; he searched each cabin, but there was no sign of McFerson, until he reached the control room. There furniture had been overturned, instruments smashed, and a pool of blood lay on the floor.
Gheal had done this. Arlen was sure that no other Venusian could have entered the ship and crept up on McFerson without arousing suspicion. McFerson's disintegrator lay on the floor beside the pool of blood, indicating that McFerson had grown suspicious too late. The gun had not been discharged.
The first thing Arlen had to do was to protect himself from further attack. He drew his own gun and closed the outer locks. The next thing would be to decide what had happened and what to do.
Renzu probably had suffered the same fate as McFerson, Arlen decided. He was alone, in a strange world, face to face with a race of mankilling monsters. The only thing in his favor was that one of these monsters had befriended him. But how long and how far could Arlen trust this friendship?
There was, however, a chance that McFerson or Renzu still might be living. He had to know for sure about this before he did anything else. And the only way to learn was to investigate.
He left the ship, carefully closing the locks and fastening them behind him. He found many tracks leading away from the ship, along the banks of the stream that flowed from the mountains.