I stood then with my hand holding Anita. And I whispered, "It's Grantline! We're safe, Anita, my darling!" Death had been so close! Those horrible last minutes on the _Planetara_ had shocked us, marked us. We stood trembling. And Grantline and his men came bounding up, weird, inflated figures. A helmeted figure touched me. I saw through the helmetpane the visage of a stern-faced, square-jawed young man. "Grantline? Johnny Grantline?" "Yes," said his voice at my ear-grid. "I'm Grantline. You're Haljan? Gregg Haljan?" They crowded around us. Gripped us, to hear our explanations. Brigands! It was amazing to Johnny Grantline. But the menace was over now, over as soon as Grantline realized its existence. We stood for a brief time discussing it. Then I drew apart, leaving Snap with Grantline. And Anita joined me. I held her arm so that we had audiphone contact. "Anita, mine." "Gregg--dear one!" Murmured nothings which mean so much to lovers! As we stood in the fantastic gloom of Lunar desolation, with the blessed Earthlight on us, I sent up a prayer of thankfulness. Not that the enormous treasure was saved. Not that the attack upon Grantline had been averted. But only that Anita was given back to me. In moments of greatest emotion the human mind individualizes. To me, there was only Anita. Life is very strange! The gate to the shining garden of our love seemed swinging wide to let us in. Yet I recall that a vague fear still lay on me. A premonition? I felt a touch on my arm. A bloated helmet visor was thrust near my own. I saw Snap's face peering at me. "Grantline thinks we should return to the _Planetara_. Might find some of them alive." Grantline touched me. "It's only human--" "Yes," I said. We went back. Some ten of us--a line of grotesque figures bounding with slow, easy strides over the jagged, rock-strewn plain. Our lights danced before us. The _Planetara_ came at last into view. My ship. Again that pang swept me as I saw her. This, her last resting place. She lay here, in her open tomb, shattered, broken, unbreathing. The lights on her were extinguished. The Erentz system had ceased to pulse--the heart of the dying ship, for a while beating faintly, but now at rest. We left the two girls with some of Grantline's men at the admission port. Snap, Grantline and I, with three others, went inside. There still seemed to be air, but not enough so that we dared remove our helmets. It was dark inside the wrecked ship. The corridors were black. The hull control rooms were dimly with Earthlight straggling through the windows. This littered tomb. Cold and silent with death. We stumbled over a fallen figure. A member of the crew. Grantline straightened from examining it. "Dead," he said. Earthlight fell on the horrible face. Puffed flesh, bloated red from the blood which had oozed from its pores in the thinning air. I looked away.