d no longer be airtight.

Now!--he told himself. Or would it be better to wait fourteen more
Earth-days, till another lunar dawn? Hell no--that would be chickenish
procrastination. Rodan and Dutch were a good ten feet away from him--he
was out of their reach.

With the harmless-looking trowel held like a dagger, he struck with all
his might at the stellene outer wall of the dome, and then made a
ripping motion. Like a monster gasping for breath, the imprisoned air
sighed out.

Taking advantage of the moment when Rodan's and Dutch's hands moved in
life-saving instinct to reseal their collars, Frank Nelsen leaped, and
then kicked twice, as hard as he could, in rapid succession. At Dutch's
stomach, first. Then Rodan's.

They were down--safe from death, since they had managed to re-latch
their collars. But with a cold fury that had learned to take no chances
with defeat, Nelsen proceeded to kick them again, first one and then
the other, meaning to make them insensible.

He got Dutch's pistol. He was a shade slow with Rodan. "You won't get
anything that is mine!" he heard Rodan grunt.

Frank managed to deflect the automatic's muzzle from himself. But Rodan
moved it downward purposefully, lined it up on a box marked dynamite,
and fired.

Nelsen must have thrown himself prone at the last instant, before the
ticklish explosive blew. He saw the flash and felt the dazing thud,
though most of the blast passed over him. Results far outstripped the
most furious intention of his plan, and became, not freedom, but a
threat of slow dying, an ordeal, as the sagging dome was torn from above
him, and supplies, air-restorer equipment, water and oxygen flasks, the
vitals and the batteries of the solar-electric plant--all for the most
part hopelessly shattered--were hurled far and wide, along with the
relics from Mars. The adjacent garden and quarters domes were also
shredded and swept away.

Dazed, Nelsen still got Rodan's automatic, picked himself up, saw that
Dutch and Rodan, in armor, too, had apparently suffered from the
explosion no worse than had he. He glanced at the hole in the lava rock,
still smoking in the high vacuum. Most of the force of the blast had
gone upward. He looked at Helen's toppled tomatoes and petunias--yes,
petunias--where the garden dome had been. Oddly, they didn't wilt at
once, though the little water in the hydroponic troughs was boiling away
furiously, making frosty rainbows in the slanting light of