The others couldn't see McPartland's broad shoulders sag momentarily at the question. He thought of Almira Denton somewhere in Terra Base, and bunching muscles snapped his shoulders back. "We'll find out when we land," he answered slowly. "That'll be soon, man!" McTavish cried suddenly. They felt the _Avenger_ lurch, and quiver as port and forward rocket tubes thundered. Jon looked upward to where the view screens hung. Those screens should be splashed with a riot of color as the ship changed course and plunged through the jet wash. But nothing was visible to Jon's straining eyes. He heard the Engineer explaining: "Parek has a mechanical timer rigged with an alarm, to tell him when to correct course." * * * * * McPartland thought for a moment of the officer down below, sitting motionless, his hands strapped into fixtures. The empty seconds would be eternities, while he listened to the monotonous ticking of the timer. Then the strident alarm would shatter his nerves, and his fingers search the guide wires for the right controls. "Can he do it?" Clemens murmured anxiously, as though reading his commander's thought. "If he can't, there isn't a Navigator in the System who can," the other said tightly. All of them could feel the deck sloping. The _Avenger_ was heading down. Parek was feeling for Terra Base, balancing the forces of the retarding and propulsion jets, listening to the beat of the timer. McTavish, too, was feeling for their goal. "Steady, man, steady," he said aloud, his sense attuned to the ship's familiar vibrations. "Landing speed, now," he added. All of them braced their legs against the increasing tilt of the floor. They rocked on their feet, as Parek poured a richer mixture into the blast tubes. For a long second the _Avenger_ hung balanced on her jets. Every spaceman aboard her felt his heart stop. Then the ship settled. There was a bump. A moment of rocking, and they had landed! McPartland spoke into the intra-ship phone: "Attention all stations! All hands remain at their posts until further orders." He turned from the instrument, trying again to find those about him. "Mister McTavish. You will go out with me. "Mister Clemens, you are in command. Take no action without orders from me--or Marshal Denton himself." "Very good, Sir," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. "I am at the door, Sir," said the Engineer. "Good. Mister Reynolds will close the port behind us. No one is to enter the ship, Mister Clemens, unless accompanied by myself or the Marshal. We don't know what the situation is here, and we can't take chances. Is that clear?" "Very clear, Sir," Clemens answered, his tone anxious. "Mister Reynolds will remain at the port, and open it only as instructed." The three of them groped down the passage. At the port, McPartland spoke into the blackness: "I've switched on audiphone, Mister Reynolds. You will open the port only to my voice or that of Marshal Denton."