The earthlight on Luna, thirteen times that of moonlight on the earth, showed up the men clearly. One was carrying a tripod. This he set up in a moment, swung a tube on its tip skyward--earthward. The tube began spouting vivid white flame in spurts. "Code!" shouted Crane. "Continental. But in those five-letter combinations. They're signalling eastern Asia!" "Come on," husked Bonwitt. "We're going to search Peterson's hangout." They scudded to the other dome. * * * * * Crane stood guard while Bonwitt searched with a flash. Outside, the signalling continued interminably. The engineer found nothing. "They're starting back," Crane warned. But they weren't heading here; those space-suited figures sped in the direction of the air-locked hangars of the small lunar ships. "After them!" gritted Bonwitt. "This is the pay-off." He and Crane whirlwinded through refinery and undersurface tubes to the hangar. Got there just as the inner seal was opening. They crouched in the shadow of a local ship. A space-suited figure parked the signalling instrument and yanked off its flexglass helmet. Gates, Peterson, too, removed his helmet. "Now for the other side," rasped the super, diving toward one of the smooth-hulled local ships. "This the one?" "Yes. She's all set." "Good." Peterson climbed through the entrance port. Both men were inside and the port closed behind them. "Come on, Crane," whispered the engineer. They took the ship that had hidden them in its shadows. Bonwitt knew these little skimmers. Their control was simple, their gravity propulsion just the ticket here where the down-pull was only a sixth of Terra's. "Damn!" growled Bill. "They've five minutes' start. We have to wait till they're through the lock." Crane said confidently: "We'll snatch 'em." The other ship taxied to the airlock and was quickly inside. The inner door swung home. The wait seemed interminable. Then the inner door swung back. Bonwitt juggled the magnetic remote control. They were inside. Through. And, in a moment, on the airless surface of Luna. Above, high over Tycho's vast wall, was the gleaming, torpedo-shaped hull of the super's ship. Bill went hot after it, more than ever puzzled as to what was going on. The other side, Peterson had said. That would mean the opposite side of Luna--never seen from Earth. * * * * * Directly toward Luna's south pole and flying high, went Peterson's ship. Bonwitt drove after him. At this speed they'd soon pass the terminator and be in sunlight. "No sense to any of it," Crane was saying. "Nothing much different on the other side than this side. What can they do around here?" "So says me," agreed Bonwitt. "Anyway--a hope--we'll learn." "There's the terminator ahead," chirped Crane. "Sun glasses!"