as still. This
soundless wreckage! In the dim glow of the wrecked turret with its two
motionless, broken human figures, it seemed as though Anita and I were
ghouls prowling. I saw that the turret had fallen over to the
_Planetara's_ deck. It lay dashed against the dome side.

The deck was aslant. A litter of wreckage! A broken human figure
showed--one of the crew who, at the last, must have come running up.
The forward observation tower was down on the chart room roof: in its
metal tangle I thought I could see the legs of the tower lookout.

So this was the end of the brigands' adventure. The _Planetara's_ last
voyage! How small and futile are humans' struggles. Miko's daring
enterprise--so villainous--brought all in a few moments to this silent
tragedy. The _Planetara_ had fallen thirty thousand miles. But why?
What had happened to Hahn? And where was Coniston, down in this broken
hull?

And Snap! I thought suddenly of Snap.

I clutched at my wandering wits. This inactivity was death. The
escaping air hissed in my ears. Our precious air, escaping away into
the vacant desolation of the Lunar emptiness. Through one of the
twisted, slanting dome windows a rocky spire was visible. The
_Planetara_ lay bow down, wedged in a jagged cradle of Lunar rock. A
miracle that the hull and dome had held together.

"Anita, we must get out of here!"

"Their helmets are in the forward storage room, Gregg."

She was staring at the fallen Miko and Moa. She shuddered and turned
away and gripped me. "In the forward storage room, by the port of the
emergency exit."

If only the exit locks would operate! We must find Snap and get out of
here. Good old Snap! Would we find him lying dead?

We climbed from the slanting, fallen turret, over the wreckage of the
littered deck. It was not difficult. A lightness was upon us. The
_Planetara's_ gravity-magnetizers were dead; this was only the light
Moon gravity pulling us.

"Careful, Anita. Don't jump too freely."

We leaped along the deck. The hiss of the escaping pressure was like a
clanging gong of warning to tell us to hurry. The hiss of death so
close!

"Snap--" I murmured.

"Oh, Gregg, I pray we may find him alive!"

With a fifteen foot leap we cleared a pile of broken deck chairs. A
man lay groaning near them. I went back with a rush. Not Snap! A
steward. He had been a brigand, but he was a steward to me now.

"Get up! This is Haljan. Hurry, we must get out of here The air is