ed like a tomb which echoed and re-echoed the lugubrious voice
of Engineer Treadmore.

"We were warned, of course," he said, in a normally dismal tone, "that
it would be extremely difficult to set down the ship which carried
Snookums, and that we could expect the final base to be anywhere from
ten to thirty miles from the original, temporary base." He looked round
at everyone, giving the impression of a collie which had just been
kicked by Albert Payson Terhune.

"We understand, naturally, that you could not help landing so far from
our original base," he said, giving them absolution with faint damns,
"but it will entail a great deal of extra labor. A hundred and nine
miles is a great distance to carry equipment, and, actually, the
distance is a great deal more, considering the configuration of the
terrain. The...."

The upshot of the whole thing was that only part of the crew could
possibly be spared to go home on the _Fireball_, which was orbiting high
above the atmosphere. And, since there was no point in sending a small
load home at extra expense when the _Fireball_ could wait for the
others, it meant that nobody could go home at all for four more weeks.
The extra help was needed to get the new base established.

It was obviously impossible to try to move the _Brainchild_ a hundred
miles. With nothing to power her but the Translation drive, she was as
helpless as a submarine on the Sahara. Especially now that her drive was
shot.

The Eisberg base had to be built around Snookums, who was, after all,
the only reason for the base's existence. And, too, the power plant of
the _Brainchild_ had been destined to be the source of power for the
permanent base.

It wasn't too bad, really. A little extra time, but not much.

The advance base, commanded by Treadmore, was fairly well equipped. For
transportation, they had one jet-powered aircraft, a couple of
'copters, and fifteen ground-crawlers with fat tires, plus all kinds of
powered construction machinery. All of them were fueled with liquid
HNO_{3}, which makes a pretty good fuel in an atmosphere that is
predominantly methane. Like the gasoline-air engines of a century
before, they were spark-started reciprocating engines, except for the
turbine-powered aircraft.

The only trouble with the whole project was that the materials had to be
toted across a hundred miles of exceedingly hostile territory.

Treadmore, looking like a tortured bloodhound, said: "But we'll