o vapor which was the
trail of the enemy rocket. For an instant the flowing confusion which
was Earth was blotted out. Then it was visible again. The ship was
plunging downward, but its sidewise speed was undiminished and much
greater than its rate of fall.

"Mike," panted Joe. "Get the news out. What we did--and why. I'm--going
to turn the ship's head back on our--course. We can't slow enough
but--I'd rather crash on Earth than let them blast us----"

The ship turned again. It pointed back in the direction from which it
had come. With the brutal sternward pressure produced by the
landing-rockets, it felt as if it were speeding madly back where it had
come from. It was the sensation they'd felt when the ship took off from
Earth, so long before. But then the cloud masses and the earth beneath
had flowed toward the ship and under it. Now they flowed away. The
appearance was that of an unthinkably swift wake left behind by a ship
at sea. The Earth's surface fled away and fled away from them.

"Crazy, this!" Joe muttered thickly. "If the ship were lighter--or we
had more power--we could land! I'm sorry, but I'd rather----"

Haney turned his head from where he clung near the bow-ports. His
features changed slowly as he talked because of acceleration-driven
blood engorging his lips and bloating his cheeks. After one instant he
closed his eyes fiercely. They felt as if they would pop out of his
head. He gasped, "Yes! Get down to air-resistance. A chance--not good
but a chance--ejection seats--with space suits--might make it...."

He began to let himself back toward his acceleration chair. He could not
possibly have climbed forward. It was a horrible task to let himself
down, with triple his normal weight pulling at him and after the beating
taken a little while ago.

Sweat stood out on his skin as he lowered himself sternward. Once his
grip on a hand-line slipped and he had to sustain the drag of nearly six
hundred pounds by a single hand and arm. It would not be a good idea to
fall at three gravities.

The landing rockets roared and roared, and Joe tilted the bow down a
little farther, so that the streaming flood of clouds drew nearer.

Haney got to his acceleration chair. He let himself into it and his eyes
closed.

Mike's sharp voice barked: "What's the chance, Haney?"

Haney's mouth opened, and closed, and opened again. "Rocket flames," he
gasped, "pushed back--wind--splash on hull--may melt--lighten
weight--hu