"Estimated distance to touchdown is two hundred thousand feet," answered
Roger crisply.

"Reduce thrust to minimum, Astro," barked Tom, his eyes watching every
dial and meter on the control board.

"Distance one hundred fifty thousand feet," reported Roger. "Looks like
an open plain right below us. Maybe we'd better try for it, eh?"

"I guess so," said Tom. "Relay your scan down here to the control-deck
scanner." Tom gave it a quick glance, saw that there was plenty of room
on the plain Roger had mentioned to hold the entire fleet, and turned to
Vidac. "Request permission to touch down, sir," said Tom.

"Granted," replied Vidac.

The curly-haired cadet turned back to the control board and once again
checked his instruments. Behind him, Vidac and Governor Hardy watched
the surface of Roald as the _Polaris_ began to turn for her tailfirst
landing.

"Cut all thrust at one hundred thousand feet, Astro," ordered Tom.

"Aye, aye," replied Astro.

"One hundred ten thousand feet," reported Roger. "One-O-seven,
one-O-four, one hundred!"

Almost immediately, the blasting roar of the rockets was cut to a
whisper and the ship began to drop toward the surface of the satellite.

Vidac jumped forward and grabbed Tom's shoulder. "What're you trying to
do, Corbett? We're falling!"

"I have no data on the gravity of Roald," said Tom calmly. "The best way
to find out is to check our rate of fall. I can then gauge the amount of
braking power necessary."

Behind the two spacemen, Governor Hardy smiled. He stepped forward and
tapped Vidac on the shoulder. "Whatever your difficulties coming out
here with them, Paul, you've got to admit that they know how to handle
this ship."

"Yeah," growled Vidac. "Too bad they don't know how to handle themselves
as well."

Tom smarted under the sarcasm but concentrated on the task of getting
the ship safely to the ground.

"Fifty thousand feet," reported Roger. "I'd say that the gravity of
Roald is about 2.7 over Earth's, Tom."

"O.K., Roger," replied Tom. "Give her one-quarter thrust, Astro. We'll
have to feel our way down."

As the rumble of the main rockets started again, Tom waited for the
ship's descent to be checked, and sudden concern welled up within him as
the ship failed to respond.

"Thirty-five thousand feet," reported Roger from the radar deck.

"Full thrust, Astro," called Tom, anxiously watching the approaching
surface of Roald. He checked his instruments again an