hting
men, nature, and the perversity of inanimate objects--all of this now
was done.

No one moved; Frank verbalized it: "I'm scared." She sounded scared.

"Better than being petrified, which I am," I answered. "But we might as
well face it."

We dragged over to the TS building, an impressive structure.

The guide played it straight, told us exactly how to suit up. Then, in
the cart, we edged into the tunnel that was the first lock, and--warned
to set our filters--emerged onto the blinding surface of Mercury.

We felt the heat momentarily--Mercury and Venus were kept at a constant
140 F, the others at 0 F--but it was a deliberate thrill. Then cool air
from the cart suit-connections began circulating.

Bonestell was magnificent, as always. Yellow landscape, spatter cones,
glittering streaks that might be metal in the volcanic ground--created
by dusting ground mica on wet glue to catch the reflection of the sun.
It was a masterpiece.

The sun. Black sky holding a giant, blazing ball. Too damned yellow, but
filtered carbon arcs were the best we could do.

Down, into the tunnel that was lock two. This next one ... Venus,
obvious opposition point of attack, where we'd had the most trouble:
Venus _had_ to be right.

It was! A blast of wind struck us, and dust, swirling everywhere. We'd
discovered there's no such thing as a sand storm--it's really dust--so
we'd taken pains making things look right. Sand dunes were carefully
cemented in place; dust rippling over gave the proper illusion.

Oddly shaped rocks, dimly seen, strengthened the impression of
wind-abraded topography. Rocks were reddish, overlain by smears of
bright yellow. Lot of trouble placing all that flowers of sulfur, but we
postulated a liquid sulfur-sulfur dioxide-carbon dioxide cycle.

Overhead, a diffused, intense yellow light. The sun--we were on the
daylight side.

I sighed, relaxed, knowing this one had worked out.

We gave the moon little time. For those who had become homesick, Earth
was hanging magnificently in the sky. At a crater wall, we stopped,
ostensibly to let souvenir hunters pick at small pieces of lunar rock
without leaving the cart.

We'd argued hours on what type to use, till Mel dragged out his rock
book. Most, automatically, had wanted basalt. However, the moon's
density being low, heavier rocks are probably scarce--one good reason
not to expect radioactive ores there. We finally settled for rhyolite
and obsidian.

Stopp