The roof of this little tower room was close under the dome--a space of no more than four feet. A pressure lock-exit in the dome was up there, with a few steps leading up to it from the roof of the tower signal-room. We could escape that way, perhaps. In the event of dire necessity it might be possible. But only as a desperate resort, for it would put us on the top of the glassite dome, with a sheer hundred feet or more down its sleek bulging exterior side, and down the outside bulge of the ship's hull, to the rocks below. There might be a spider ladder outside leading downward, but I saw no evidence of it. If Anita and I were forced to escape that way, I wondered how we could manage a hundred foot jump to the rocks and land safely. Even with the slight gravity of the Moon it would be a dangerous fall. "You are Gregg Haljan?" I started as one of the brigands, coming up behind us, addressed me. "Yes." "Commander Potan tells me you were chief navigator of the _Planetara_?" "Yes." "You shall pilot us when we advance upon the Grantline camp. I am control-commander here--Brotow, my name." He smiled. A giant fellow, but spindly. He spoke good English. He seemed anxious to be friendly. "We are glad to have you and George Prince's sister with us." He shot Anita an admiring glance. "I will show you our controls, Haljan." "All right," I said. "Whatever I can do to help...." "But not now. It will be some hours before we are ready." I nodded, and he wandered away. Anita whispered: "Did he mean that signal room up here in the tower? Oh, Gregg, maybe it's only the ship's control room!" "I don't know. But the projector range-finders are up there, and I think it's the signal room." "Suppose we go up and see? Gregg, Miko's signals might start any minute." * * * * * And the electronic projector now seemed about ready. It was time for me to act. But a reluctant instinct was upon me. Our Erentz suits were here close behind us in Potan's cubby. I hated to leave them: if anything happened and we had to make a sudden dash, there would be no time to garb ourselves in the suits. To adjust the helmets was bad enough. I whispered swiftly, "We must get into our suits--find some pretext." I drew her back through the cubby doorway where we would be more secluded. "Anita, listen: I've been a fool not to plan our escape more carefully! We're in too great a danger here." It seemed to me suddenly that we were in desperate plight. Was it premonition? "Anita, listen: if anything happens and we have to make a dash--" "Up through that dome-lock, Gregg? It's a manual control; you can see the levers." "Yes. It's a manual. But 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-porte--it's a manual, too."