"Seven hundred and fifty feet to touchdown," reported Tom.
"Keep counting, Corbett!" yelled Connel enthusiastically.
"Five hundred feet!"
Connel quickly cut back the nose braking rockets and again opened the main drive rockets as the ship plummeted tailfirst toward the surface of Mars.
"Two hundred feet!" came the warning call over the intercom.
Connel glanced up at the teleceiver screen over his head that showed the spaceport below. The concrete runways and platforms were rushing up to meet the giant ship. He opened the main rockets full.
"Seventy-five feet! Stand by!" yelled Tom.
Connel's hands flashed over the control panel of the ship, snapping switches, flipping levers, and turning dials in an effort to bring the ship to a smooth landing. There was a sudden roar of rockets and then a gentle bump.
"Touchdown!" roared Connel.
He flipped off the main switches on the control board, spun around in his chair, and noted the time on the astral chronometer. "Touchdown Marsport, 2117!" he announced.