He came down in the Crater Plato, tail first but far too fast. The tailfins crumpled and the sifting pumice drove up into the exhaust and packed like cement. A seam whistled far below to let out some air from a sealed compartment, cracked in the bump. The crash staggered him a bit, but all he suffered was a nosebleed and a set of sprained chest muscles. He sat up and looked around. The radio. He snapped it on and called: "_Lady Luna_ Gordon Holt reporting. Made a crash landing. May be dangerous. Will check and call at 0300." He eyed the radio thoughtfully; it only took about three seconds for an answer, but in that time Gordon considered smashing the radio in the middle of the next broadcast and then discarded the idea because it might lead people to think that he, too, had been smashed. Gordon wanted to be rescued, not given a hero's brief hail and farewell. "Calling _Lady Luna_. Holt! Are you all right? Explain!" "I am all right. I am not hurt. Crash landing rather rough but nothing broken. No air leakage, nothing completely ruined that I can tell. Landed as per program in the dead center of Plato, but a little too hard." That ought to do it. Let 'em get excited slowly. They'll forget me less slowly. "_Lady Luna_ what happened?" They were worried. "I don't know. I have a hunch that the pumice does not provide a true ground-plane for the radar. We landed as though the ground were about thirty feet below the surface." * * * * * That sounds logical. Such things are entirely possible, I'm told. Powdery, filmy stuff with no water shouldn't have a firm ground-plane. "_Lady Luna_ inspect your damage and report as planned at 0300." Holt checked his air first. Plenty of it. Not a bit gone. Water next and food next. He checked the hull as well as he could from the inside and then went out in his space suit to view the damage. He had done an admirable job. The tail fins were bent messily and the hull was crumpled a bit just above the place where the rocket motor ended. If this ship took off-- "_Lady Luna_ calling home. Reporting as per plan. Hull bent, tail fins ruined. Crater filled with powdery pumice and I feel that the exhaust is packed. Shall I try a blast to clear it?" While he waited for the answer Gordon found a bit of wire and shorted the battery for a second. He had to fade out slowly enough to fool them completely. "_Lady Luna_, do not try a clearing blast. You'll explode. Wait for instructions." "Will do. Will do." He shorted the battery a couple more times and watched the voltmeter drop. "_Lady Luna_ can you dig down to the exhaust port?" "Will try. Note battery dropping. Nothing else in danger. Food, water, air all okay. Hull sound but battery dropping." * * * * *