ouds, but to Jamison the sight of
vegetation implied rooftops. There ought to be parapets where roofs
ended to let light down to windows and streets below. He had never
before seen grass save on elevated recreation-areas, nor bushes not
arranged as landscaping, and certainly not trees other than the
domesticated growths which can grow on the tops of buildings. To Jamison
this was desolation. On the moon, absence of structures was
understandable. There was no air. But here there should be a city!

The ship swayed a little as the rockets swung their blasts to balance
the descending mass. The intended Mars-ship slowed, and slowed, and
hovered--and there was terrifying smoke and flame suddenly all
about--and then there was a distinct crunching impact. The rockets
continued to burn, their ferocity diminished. They slackened again. And
yet again. They were reduced to a mere faint murmur.

There was a remarkable immobility of everything. It was the result of
gravity. Earth-value gravity, or very near it. There was a distinct
pressure of one's feet against the floor, and a feeling of heaviness to
one's body which was very different from Lunar City, and more different
still from free flight in emptiness.

Nothing but swirling masses of smoke could be seen out the ports. They
had landed in a forest, of sorts, and the rocket-blasts had burned away
everything underneath, down to solid soil. In a circle forty yards about
the ship the ground was a mass of smoking, steaming ash. Beyond that
flames licked hungrily, creating more dense vapor. Beyond that still
there was only coiling smoke.

Cochrane's headphones yielded Babs' voice, almost wailing:

"_Mr. Cochrane! We must have landed! I want to see!_"

Cochrane pressed the hand-mike button.

"Are we still hooked up to Lunar City?" he demanded. "We can't be, but
are we?"

"_We are_," said Babs' voice mutinously. "_The broadcast went through
all right. They want to talk to you. Everybody wants to talk to you!_"

"Tell them to call back later," commanded Cochrane. "Then leave the beam
working--however it works!--and come up if you like. Tell the moon
operator you'll be away for ten minutes."

He continued to stare out the window. Al, the pilot, stayed in his
cushioned seat before the bank of rocket-controls. The rockets were
barely alight. The ship stayed as it had landed, upright on its triple
fins. He said to Jones:

"It feels like we're solid. We won't topple!"

Jones no