The sky was black. No, it was white, dazzling white, white with heat, red with flame. He saw Red Dog with difficulty. The rocket was a hotel, complete with room clerk. He laughed inanely. A Single, please. No, I'll only be staying for the night. He fell again. This time it took him longer to regain his feet. He stumbled ... walked ... stumbled. His eyes sought the rocket. It was weaving, swaying back and forth. Foolish, he thought, there was no wind in Crater Arzachel. No air, no wind, no nothing. Nothing but death. Wait, there was someone sitting on top of the rocket--a giant of a man with a long white beard. He watched Crag and smiled. He reached out a hand and beckoned. Crag ran. The sky exploded within his brain, his legs buckled and he felt his face plate smash against the ashy floor. For all eternity, he thought. The blackness came. * * * * * Adam Crag opened his eyes. He was lying on his back. Above him the dome of the sky formed a great black canopy sprinkled with brilliant stars. His thoughts, chaotic memories, gradually stabilized and he remembered his mad flight toward Red Dog. This couldn't be death, he thought. Spirits didn't wear space suits. He sensed movement and twisted his head to one side. Gordon Nagel! The oxygen man's face behind the heavy plate was thin, gaunt, but he was smiling. Crag thought that he had never seen such a wonderful smile. Nagel's lips crinkled into speech: "I was beginning to wonder when you'd make it." Even his voice was different, Crag thought. The nasal twang was gone. It was soft, mellow, deep with concern. He thought it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard. "Thanks, Gordon," he said simply. He spoke the words thinking it was the first time he'd ever addressed the other by his first name. "How'd you ever locate me?" "Started early," Nagel said. "I was pretty sure you'd push yourself past the point of no return. You seemed pretty set on getting that critter." "It's a wonder you located me." He managed to push himself to a sitting position. "Prochaska didn't think I could. But I did. Matter of fact, I was pretty close to you when you broke from the rocks heading for Red Dog." Red Dog! Crag twisted his head and looked toward the rocket. "He's lying at the base of the rocket," Nagel said, in answer to his unspoken question. "Your last volley sprayed him." "Skipper!" Prochaska's voice broke impatiently into his earphones. "Still alive," Crag answered. "Yeah--just." Prochaska's voice was peevish. "You were lucky with that last burst of fire." "Thanks to my good marksmanship," Crag quipped weakly. "I wish you'd quit acting like a company of Marines and get back here." "Okay, Colonel." Prochaska cursed and Crag grinned happily. It was good to be alive, even in Crater Arzachel.