"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 the stern storeroom." It decided Brotow. He waved away the Martian who had stopped me. "Let them pass." Anita and I gave him our most friendly smiles. "Thanks." He bowed to Anita with a sweeping gesture. "I will show you over the control room presently." His gaze went to the peak of the bow. The little hooded cubby there was the control room, then. Satisfaction swept me. Then above us in the tower, must surely be the signal room. Would Brotow follow us up? I hoped not. I wanted to be alone with the duty man up there, giving me a chance to get at the projector controls if Miko's signal should come. I drew Anita past Brotow, who had stood aside. "Thanks," I repeated. "We won't be long." We mounted the little ladder. XXXI "Hurry, Anita!" I feared that Potan might come up from the hull at any moment and stop us. The duty man over us gazed down, his huge head and shoulders blocking the small signal room window. Brotow called up in Martian, telling him to let us come. He scowled, but when we reached the trap in the room floor grid, we found him standing aside to admit us. I flung a swift glance around. It was a metallic cubby, not much over fifteen feet square, with an eight foot arched ceiling. There were instrument panels. The range finder for the giant projector was here; its telescope with the trajectory apparatus and the firing switch were unmistakable. And the signaling apparatus was here! Not a Martian set, but a fully powerful Botz ultra-violet sender with its attendant receiving mirrors. The _Planetara_ had used the Botz system, so I was thoroughly familiar with it. I saw too, what seemed to be weapons: a row of small fragile glass globes, hanging on clips along the wall--bombs, each the size of a man's fist. And a broad belt with bombs in its padded compartments.