"Range one thousand feet," reported Alfie, his calm voice in striking
contrast to the nervous excitement in Tom's. "Seven hundred fifty--six
hundred--five fifty--"

"Fire braking rockets!" rasped Tom into the intercom.

The great ship bucked under the sudden thrust of the huge braking
rockets. The _Polaris_ held steady for a moment, then gradually, as the
pull of Tara began again, she settled back toward the dark-green
jungles beneath her.

"Two hundred and fifty feet," reported Alfie. "One hundred and
seventy-five--one fifty--" he droned.

"Ease her up, Astro," shouted Tom. "Easy! Ease her up, you Venusian
clunk, we're dropping too fast!"

Once again, from the heart of the _Polaris_, there came a roaring blast
of the powerful motors. The ship steadied once more and then slipped
back into her fall toward the new planet under more sure control.

"Fifty feet," reported Alfie. "Forty--thirty--twenty--"

There was a brief pause, as if everything had stopped and they were held
still by a giant hand, and then, suddenly, a rocking motion, a slight
bump and rumble. Tom knew they were down.

"_Touchdown!_" he yelled at the top of his voice. "Touchdown! We made
it--we made it!"

From the power deck, quiet except for the whining of the oxygen feed
pump, Astro's bellow could be heard vibrating through the passageways.

"_Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeooooooooooooowwwwwww!_"

Tom began shutting off the many circuits and switches and made a quick
last-minute check of the now dead ship. Satisfied, he glanced at the
great solar clock, noted the time in the log, and stepped to the ladder
leading to the radar bridge.

"Cadet Corbett reporting, sir," said Tom, saluting smartly. "I wish to
report, sir, that the _Polaris_ made touchdown on the planet Tara at
exactly seventeen fifty-nine, solar time!"

Connel, his great bulk bent over the tiny transmitter, was twirling the
dials, his head encased in a vacuum earphone helmet to ensure perfect
silence. He had acquired the knowledge of lip reading out of necessity
on the power decks of the old chemical burners thirty years before, and
while he couldn't hear what Tom had said, he knew what the report was.

"Very well, Corbett," he shouted, not being able to judge the volume of
his voice. "Good job! Can't seem to pick them up at the Academy again.
Had them once, then lost them. Am placing you in command of an
expedition for a quick look outside. Arm yourselves with paralo-ray guns
and rifles