"Up through that dome lock, Gregg? It's a manual control; you can see
the levers."

"Yes. It's a manual. But once up there how would we get down?"

She was far calmer than I. "There may be an outside ladder, Gregg."

"I don't think so. I haven't seen it."

"Then we can get out the way they brought us in. The hull port--it's a
manual, too."

"Yes, I think I can find our way down through the hull corridors."

"There are guards outside on the rocks."

We had seen them through the dome windows. But there were not many,
only two or three. I was armed and a surprise rush would do the trick.

We donned our Erentz suits.

"What will we do with the helmets?" demanded Anita. "Leave them here?"

"No, take them with us. I'm not going to get separated from them!"

"We'll look strange going up to that signal room equipped like this."

"I can't help it, Anita. We'll explain it, somehow."

She stood before me, a queer-looking little figure in the now
deflated, bagging suit with her slim neck and head protruding above
it.

"Carry your helmet, Anita. Ill take mine."

We could adjust the helmets and start the motors all within a few
seconds.

"I'm ready, Gregg."

"Come on, then. Let me go first."

I had the bullet projector in an outer pouch of the suit where I could
instantly reach it. This was more rational; we had a fighting chance
now. The fear which had swept me began to recede.

"We'll climb the tower to the signal room," I whispered. "Do it
boldly."

We stepped from the cubby. Potan was not in sight; perhaps he was on
the further deck beyond the central cabin structure.

On the deck, we were immediately accosted. This was different--our
appearance in the Erentz suits!

"Where are you going?" This fellow spoke in Martian.

I answered in English, "Up there."

He stood before us, towering over me. I saw a group of nearby workers
stop to regard us. In a moment we would be causing a commotion, and it
was the last thing I desired.

I said in Martian, "Commander Potan told me, what I wish I can do.
From the dome we look around to see where is the Grantline camp from
here. I am pilot of this ship to go there."

The man who had called himself Brotow passed near us. I appealed to
him.

"We put on our suits. After our experience, we feel safer that way. If
I'm to pilot the ship...."

He hesitated, his glance sweeping the deck as though to ask Potan.
Someone said in Martian:

"The Commander is down in