The sudden surge of a retro rocket and the blast of moondust blinded the television eye, but there was a sense of crazy, rocking, rolling motion. Then the eye went dead. Jim almost cried out. The ship couldn't have crashed. * * * * * An operator quickly switched controls and the screens came alive again. He turned a dial slowly. The camera eye moved. It swept the craggy horizon and the nearby floor of the Sea of Rains. Others had seen this before, but it was the first time for Jim. He found himself pushing forward, drinking in the sight eagerly. "The moon--the moon--" he said softly to himself. But the others heard it and they understood. Signals were sent across space to collapse the landing legs and unfold the sides of the instrument cone like the leaves of a flower. The Prospector lay exposed to the environment for which it was built. Slowly, in response to other signals, the worm-screw drives, which had been retracted against the body of the vehicle, turned through an arc and lowered to the surface. Locked in position, the drive screws began turning slowly. The vehicle moved off the now-useless landing support and became an entity of its own. The ungainly arms of the solar cells automatically oriented toward the sun; the antennas pointed toward earth. The scanning cameras in the turret of the Prospector took control of the video circuits and the turret slowly turned as the vehicle moved across the face of the moon. The landing support remained behind and slowly dwindled like some useless wreckage. There was sudden pandemonium in the tracking center control room. The operators laid down their headsets and began pounding each other on the back, while ear-splitting Indian yells filled the air. Jim and Sam found themselves beating each other on the arms and yelling senselessly. "We made it!" Sam cried. "We made it! We got your little old laboratory up there for you!" * * * * * There were hours of testing and calibration yet to be done before the Prospector could be used for its primary mission. Hundreds of electronic circuits had to be checked to see that they survived the takeoff and landing without becoming distorted or inoperative. Jim went home for the rest of the night. When he returned the next morning Sam reported that all circuits were go, and the Prospector was his. He had operated the laboratory in the Prospector many times, either on a mock-up or from this control panel while the Prospector was in the hangar. But he couldn't keep the faint tremor from his hand as he reached for the first control that would manipulate the machine on the moon. The drill had been extended to operating position, but the head had not yet been energized. Jim touched it to the fine dust of the floor of the Sea of Rains. The drill went quickly to a depth of eighteen inches in the dust before it struck something firmer.