" asked Donna. "They didn't bring us all the way out here for
nothing. Varret was scared. If it's that dangerous, somebody just has to
do it--and we're here!"

"Not for long," said Brecken in an ugly tone. "Get hot on those
controls. You, Phillips! Run back to that rocket room and see that
things work!"

"You try it," suggested the engineer quietly.

He would have preferred to avoid the trouble the girl had been stirring
up, but he did not relish Brecken's tone. A few days off Luna, he
reflected, and already he was getting independent.

"Listen," said Donna, encouraged in her defiance, "when I touch those
controls, we'll go right up and touch noses with them. You'd better have
a torpedo ready!"

She turned to the banks of buttons and switches. Muffled thunder from
the stern jets trembled through the hull as the men staggered.

[Illustration: 3]

Brecken recovered his balance first. With a snarl, he grabbed the girl
by the nape of the neck and shook her roughly. Glimpsing Phillips' cold
sneer, he reached back and seized a heavy metal bar from the spacesuit
rack.

"Now, dammit!" he grated. "You'll do like I tell you! And _you_ get back
there an' see that those tubes recharge okay!"

Phillips felt a hard anger swelling his throat. From the corner of his
eye, he saw Truesdale shrinking back against the bulkhead. He glanced
about desperately for something with which to parry Brecken's bar.

It was the girl who broke the tense silence. With a gasping intake of
breath, she reached up to claw at Brecken's face. Cursing, the man
twisted his head away to protect his eyes. He released his grip on the
girl's neck and swung a clumsy, backhand blow at her head. Donna
stumbled, and collapsed to the deck.

_Now or never_, Phillips told himself. Without waiting to think, he
hurled himself forward.

Brecken saw him coming, and tried to shift around to meet the engineer's
charge. Phillips crashed into him shoulder first, and they both brought
up against the opposite bulkhead with a thud. He concentrated all his
strength into wringing the other's forearm until he heard the bar clang
to the deck.

Brecken clubbed him on the side of the head with a wild left swing, and
Phillips found the big man's foot in the way when he tried to sidestep.
He lost his balance, but kept his grasp on the other so that they went
down together, thrashing about for some opening. Brecken was red-faced
with a maniacal rage. Beads of saliva