electronic
projector.

The roof of this little tower room was close under the dome--a space
of no more than four feet. A pressure lock exit in the dome was up
there, with a few steps leading up to it from the roof of the tower
signal room.

We could escape that way, perhaps. In the event of dire necessity it
might be possible. But only as a desperate resort, for it would put us
on the top of the glassite dome, with a sheer hundred feet or more
down its sleek bulging exterior side, and down the outside bulge of
the ship's hull, to the rocks below. There might be a spider ladder
outside leading downward, but I saw no evidence of it. If Anita and I
were forced to escape that way, I wondered how we could manage a
hundred foot jump to the rocks, and land safely. Even with the slight
gravity of the Moon, it would be a dangerous fall.

"You are Gregg Haljan?"

I stared as one of the brigands, coming up behind, addressed me.

"Yes."

"Commander Potan tells me you were chief navigator of the
_Planetara_?"

"Yes."

"You shall pilot us when we advance upon the Grantline camp. I am
control-commander here--Brotow, my name."

He smiled. A giant fellow, but spindly. He spoke good English. He
seemed anxious to be friendly.

"We are glad to have you and George Prince's sister with us." He shot
Anita an admiring glance. "I will show you our controls, Haljan."

"All right," I said. "Whatever I can do to help...."

"But not now. It will be some hours before we are ready."

I nodded, and he wandered away. Anita whispered: "Did he mean that
signal room up in the tower? Oh Gregg, maybe it's only the control
room."

"Suppose we go up and see? Miko's signals might start any minute."

And the electronic projector seemed about ready. It was time for me to
act. But a reluctant instinct was upon me. Our Erentz suits were close
behind us in Potan's cubby. I hated to leave them. If anything
happened, and we had to make a sudden dash, there would be no time to
garb ourselves in the suits. To adjust the helmets would be bad
enough.

I whispered swiftly, "We must get into our suits--find some pretext."
I drew her back through the cubby doorway where we would be more
secluded.

"Anita, listen. I've been a fool not to plan our escape more
carefully. We're in too great a danger here!"

Suddenly it seemed to me that we were in desperate plight! Was it
premonition?

"Anita, listen: if anything happens and we have to make a dash--"