Then in the vision lens which mapped that segment of space immediately before them, Flick Muldoon glimpsed the rapidly swelling globe which was Deimos, lesser moon of Mars. Like a great, gaunt blood-red rock it looked; quartering, then halving, then completely blotting out the vision plate. Muldoon was momentarily aware of razor-sharp cliffs, high rocky plateaus, and jagged tors unsoftened by a blade of vegetation. Then the motors whined in shrill and screaming protest. The _Liberty's_ nose came up, and the ship struck with a resounding crash. Struck ... bounced ... shook itself angrily ... and ground to a grating stop.... CHAPTER VIII Power from Mars "Well!" said Flick Muldoon. "Everything happens to us!" Lark O'Day pushed a final stud which silenced the _Liberty's_ motors. The ship lay still upon the satellite's rocky surface. "That," said the pilot moodily, "is that! You all right, fellows? How about you, Muldoon?" Flick eased himself from his chair, flexed arms and legs gingerly. "They _seem_ to be all right," he admitted cautiously. "I'll study them for defects when the goose pimples go down." Mac was already at the intercommunicating system, rasping queries to the far chambers of the ship. "Everybody O.Q.? No casualties?" The responses were encouraging if somewhat blasphemous. Typical was the reply from Slops, the ship's chef. He snarled irately, "_I'm_ all right, Lootenant, but did you say we was to have soup for dinner?" "Eh? Why, yes. But--" "'Cause if you did, everybody better come on up to the galley right now with spoons. Dinner's slip-sloppin' all over the floor." There came the sound of footsteps on the ramp. The door burst open, admitting that quartet which Lark O'Day had humorously dubbed "the brains of this here outfit." All were excited. Gary Lane demanded intently, "Hugh.... Lark.... What is it? Where are we? We're not on Mars?" Warren shook his head. "No. We are about twelve thousand miles short of our goal. This is what you might call 'time out by command performance.' We're grav-locked. Have you tried to make her respond, Lark?" O'Day had again been jiggling the activating studs. Now he said, "Yeah, but it's no go. Just our luck. We've blundered into one of Deimos' unpredictable magnetic periods. We're frozen tighter than a pollywog in a Plutonian puddle." "How long," demanded Muldoon, "does this here magnetic grab operate?" Dr. Bryant answered for the navigators. "That, Muldoon, is as unpredictable as the phenomenon itself. Sometimes these periods last but a few hours; at other times they are sustained for months. I'm afraid we must just resign ourselves to remaining here as long as need be." "Which being the case," drawled Lark O'Day, rising and stretching nonchalantly, "I might as well take a stroll outside and make sure we didn't split any seams when we pancaked. Come along, Hugh?"