He nodded. He knew, now, where they were. Or approximately. There was but one planet in the solar system which boasted such a phenomenon. The apparent distance of the Sun, judged by its diminished disc, argued his judgment to be correct. The fact that they had surged through an atmospheric belt for some length of time before finally meeting with disaster. "Titan," he said. "Hyperion possibly. But probably Titan." Sparks' gaze, following Greg's upward, contracted in an expression of dismay. "Dirty cow! You mean that's where we are?" "I believe so. There's Saturn, our mother planet, looming above us as large as a dinner plate. And the grav-drag here is almost Earth norm. Titan has a 3,000 mile diameter. That, combined with the Saturnian tractile constant, would give us a strong pull." Sparks wailed, "But Titan! Great morning, Malcolm, nobody ever comes to Titan! There ain't no mines here, no colonies, no--" He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening yet farther. "And, hey--this place is _dangerous_! There are--" "I know it," said Greg swiftly, quietly. "Shut up, Sparks. No use telling the others. If they don't guess it themselves, what they don't know won't alarm them. We've got to do something, though. Get ourselves organized into a defensive community. That's the only way--" Ralph Breadon's sharp, dictatorial voice interrupted him. "Well, Malcolm, stop soldiering and make yourself useful!" And J. Foster, not to have his authority usurped, supplemented the order. "Yes, Malcolm, let's get going! No time for day-dreaming, my man. We want action!" Sparks said, "Maybe you'll get it now, fatty!" under his breath, and looked at Malcolm hopefully. But his companion merely nodded, moved forward toward the others, quietly obedient to the command. "Yes, sir," he said. Hannigan groaned and followed him. III Breadon said, "All right, Tommy, dump them here. I have a few words to say." He glanced about him pompously. "Now, folks, naturally we want to get away from here as soon as possible. Therefore I delegate you, Sparks, to immediately get a message off. An SOS to the nearest space cruiser." Hannigan grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. He took his time answering. He spat thoughtfully on the ground before him, lifted his head. He said, "A message, huh?" "That's what I said." "And what'll I send it with?" drawled Sparks. "Tom-toms?" Breadon flushed darkly. "I believe the life-skiff was equipped with a radio? And theoretically you are a radio operator?" "Finest radio money can buy!" interpolated J. Foster Andrews proudly. "Put a million credits into the _Carefree_. Best equipment throughout." Sparks looked from one to another of them, grinned insolently. "You're both right. I _am_ a radio operator, and there _was_ a radio. But we crashed, remember? On account of some dope's sleeve got caught in the master switch--"