n the
light of the headlamps over our foreheads.

I closed the locks after us: an instinct to keep the air in the ship
for the other trapped humans lying in there.

We slid down the sloping side of the _Planetara_. We were unweighted,
irrationally agile with this slight gravity. I fell a dozen feet and
landed with barely a jar.

We were out on the Lunar surface. A great sloping ramp of crags
stretched down before us. Gray-black rock tinged with Earthlight. The
Earth hung amid the stars in the blackness overhead like a huge
section of a glowing yellow ball.

This grim, desolate, silent landscape! Beyond the ramp, fifty feet
below us, a tumbled naked plain stretched away into blurred distance.
But I could see mountains off there. Behind us, the towering, frowning
rampart-wall of Archimedes loomed against the sky.

I had turned to look back at the _Planetara_. She lay broken, wedged
between spires of upstanding rock. A few of her lights still gleamed.
The end of the _Planetara_!

The three grotesque figures of Anita, Venza and Snap had started off.
Hunchback figures with the tanks mounted on their shoulders. I bounded
and caught them. I touched Snap. We made audiphone contact.

"Which way do you think?" I demanded.

"I think this way, down the ramp. Away from Archimedes, toward the
mountains. It shouldn't be too far."

"You run with Venza. I'll hold Anita."

He nodded. "But we must keep together, Gregg."

We could soon run freely. Down the ramp, out over the tumbled plain.
Bounding, grotesque, leaping strides. The girls were more agile, more
skillful. They were soon leading us. The Earth shadows of their
figures leaped beside them. The _Planetara_ faded into the distance
behind us. Archimedes stood back there. Ahead, the mountains came
closer.

An hour perhaps. I lost track of time. Occasionally we stopped to
rest. Were we going toward the Grantline camp? Would they see our tiny
waving headlights?

Another interval. Then far ahead of us on the ragged plain, lights
showed! Moving, tiny spots of light! Headlights on helmeted figures!

We ran, monstrously leaping. A group of figures were off there.
Grantline's party? Snap gripped me.

"Grantline! We're safe, Gregg! Safe!"

He took his bulb light from his helmet; we stood in a group while he
waved it. A semaphore signal.

"_Grantline?_"

And the answer came, "_Yes. You, Dean?_"

Their personal code. No doubt of this--it was Grantline, who had seen
th