"Only a glancing blow, but it smashed all the main stern tubes, and evidently disabled the anti-gravitational shield transmitter. We're going down." Holden dashed to a port and glanced out. A welcome sight met his eyes. The enemy, also injured, was heading for home as fast as his disabled engines permitted. "Those _hexoxen_ bombs must have weakened his plating, so that it sprang when he rammed us," Edwards exclaimed when he saw what was happening. Slowly the _San Francisco_ sank toward the red and black volcanic ash of the crater floor. A hasty inspection revealed that Edwards had been correct in his diagnosis of the trouble. Extensive repairs would be necessary before they could proceed, but, fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, and the main shell showed no signs of strains or leaks. As soon as Edwards had brought them safely to rest on the ground, Holden called a council of war. "From the way these chaps fight, it's evident that they have no weapons, other than the bow of their ship, and possibly some short-range ray pistols, or the still more antiquated guns using some form of explosive to expel metal bullets. As soon as the shadow of the cliff throws this section of the crater into darkness, I'm going to do a little exploring, and see if I can't find out where these rats hide, when they're not out in space. Linet, you throw a line of pickets around the ship; Edwards, get started on repairs, and Erickson, keep on trying to get in touch with our companions." * * * * * Scarcely had he finished speaking when the light began to fade, and in a few minutes it was pitch black. Refusing to take anyone along with him, Holden crept out of the air-lock, and with an occasional glance at the compass fastened inside his suit, always pointing toward the _San Francisco_, he set out in the general direction of the wrecked space ships he had seen piled along the base of the cliff. He made good time, despite the weight of his suit and the poor footing afforded by the loosely piled dust, and finally saw ahead of him the silvery gleam of a ship's side. Afraid to use his light, he crept toward the bow of the craft, past a huge hole, and reached the name-plate. Following the deeply engraved characters, he slowly spelled out the name "G-L-O-R-," his heart gave a great thump. _Gloriana_, the Earth-Mars passenger transport into which his own Jean had stepped so happily a year previously! A sudden hope flared up and then died down as he remembered the gaping hole he had just passed. The cowards had probably attacked without warning; the terrible cold of outer space had flooded through the opening made by that sharp-pointed prow,--. He could not bear to carry the image further; with a sob in his throat and murderous hatred in his heart, he continued his search for the pirate stronghold.