not in a panic. He showed
me his heat ray cylinder. "What do you want me to do?"

"Round up the crew. Get all you can. Bring them here to man the
pumps."

He dashed away. Snap called after him, "Kill them if they argue!"

Miko's voice sounded from the turret call grid: "Falling! Haljan, you
can see it now! Check us!"

Desperate moments. Or was it an hour? Coniston brought the men. He
stood over them with menacing weapon.

We had all the pumps going. The pressure rose a little in the tanks.
Enough to shift a bow plate. I tried it. The plate slowly clicked into
a new combination. A gravity repulsion just in the bow-tip.

I signaled Miko. "Have we stopped swinging?"

"No. But slower."

I could feel it, that lurch of the gravity. But not steady now. A
limp. The tendency of our bow was to stay up.

"More pressure, Snap."

One of the crew rebelled, tried to bolt from the room.

Coniston shot him down.

I shifted another bow plate. Then two in the stern. The stern plates
seemed to move more readily than the others.

"Run all the stern plates," Snap advised.

I tried it. The lurching stopped. Miko called, "We're bow down.
Falling!"

But not falling free. The Moon gravity pull on us was more than half
neutralized.

"I'll go up, Snap, and try the engines. You don't mind staying down
here? Executing my signals?"

"You idiot!" He gripped my shoulders. His eyes were gleaming, his face
haggard, but his pale lips twitched with a smile.

"Maybe it's good-bye, Gregg. We'll fall--fighting."

"Yes. Fighting. Coniston, you keep the pressure up."

With the broken tubes it took nearly all the pressure to maintain the
few plates I had shifted. One slipped back to neutral. Then the pumps
gained on it, and it shifted again.

I dashed up to the deck. Oh, the Moon was so close now! So horribly
close! The deck shadows were still. Through the forward bow windows
the Moon surface glared up at us.

Those last horrible minutes were a blur. And there was always Anita's
face. She left Miko. Faced with death, he sat clinging. Moa too, sat
apart--staring.

And Anita crept to me. "Gregg, dear one. The end...."

I tried the electronic engines from the stern, setting them in
reverse. The streams of their light glowed from the stern, forward
along our hull, and flared down from our bow toward the Lunar surface.
But no atmosphere was here to give resistance. Perhaps the electronic
streams checked our fall a little. The pumps g