As Hawkins had promised, they passed the gate unchallenged, the little purser volunteering the password for all of them. And as they left the gate behind, young Dr. Lane breathed a deep sigh of relief. The one hazardous point of their effort now lay behind them. Five hundred yards away lay the ship upon whose flaming jets they soon would thrust voidward on a quest of magnificent daring. The gate crashed to behind them, and the sentry's amused drawl advised, "All right, lads, hop along back to your ship and sleep it off before your skipper finds out--Wait a minute! What's the matter there?" His voice lifted in sharp query, and beside Gary, Nora Powell gasped in swift alarm; her right hand sought and gripped his arm in a clutch of panic fright. For, awkwardly, in the darkness, one of their party had slipped and fallen. And as he sprawled on the rough, uneven ground, he cried in a loud and decidedly unsailorlike voice, "_Oh, goodness gracious! How perfectly stupid of me!_" It was the rotund little scientist, Dr. Anjers! CHAPTER V En Route to Venus A coldness gripped Lane's heart; his breath caught in his throat. In a moment the sentry's flashlight would dart its questing beam upon their group. Their shoddy disguise could brook no such probing revelation. He guessed right. A sudden shaft of silver split the darkness dazzlingly, revealing the round, stunned face of Dr. Anjers lifted in woebegone chagrin. And the sentry cried again, "Say, hold on! What does this mean?" It was no time for considered action. Lane did what must be done ... and did it swiftly. In a single, swooping motion he whirled, raced, dove for the sentry's legs. Both men went down in a flurry of tangling limbs. Arms strained to escape Gary's viselike grip that a marksman's hand might find its weapon. But if strength and armed superiority was the sentry's, the element of surprise favored Gary. Before the patrolman could reach his weapon, before even his startled wits advised him to lift his voice in a cry of warning, Lane's arm lifted once ... twice. The spaceman sighed--and slumbered. Gary leaped to his feet, lashing a cry of command out over the now swiftly wakening rocketdrome. "Take his other arm, there, Hawkins! We'll carry him. There, that's it! Now, to the ship, folks--quickly! There's not a second to lose!" And with the aid of the little steward he swept Anjers to his feet, half-lifted, half-bore him to the entrance port of the _Liberty_, now shining like a white rectangular beacon in the darkness before them. An instant later, all five were within the craft. The airlock closed behind them, and Captain Hugh Warren was rasping swift commands over the audiophone system: "_Lift gravs! Throw all thrusts at five gees immediately! No time to warm hypos. Give her the gun! Hurry! For God's sake--!_"