Hobbs gave a croaking laugh. "Not likely. There aren't any weapons here. The ship's been stripped clean."
Callahan said, "If we could break through the dome—"
"There might be enough fuel for that—if it hasn't deteriorated. But then what? We'd crash. Certain death. You know that."
Vanning clicked another button into its socket. "Let's see if the visi-plate works."
It did. On a panel before him a dim light glowed. It gave place to a picture, clouded and cracked across the middle. They could see the square, with the Swamja swarming into it in ever-increasing numbers, with the twisted buildings rising in the background, and the tower-tube shining far away.
Vanning caught his breath. "Listen," he said. "There's still a chance. A damned slim one—"
"What?"
The detective hesitated. If he took time to weigh this mad scheme, he knew it would seem utterly impossible. Instead, he snapped, "Brace yourselves! We're taking off for a crash landing!"
Callahan looked at Vanning's set, haggard face, and whirled. He picked up Lysla's limp body and braced himself in a corner. Zeeth and Hobbs did the same. Before any of them could speak, Vanning had swung the power switch.
He was praying silently that there was still a little fuel left in the chambers, just a little, and that it would still work. His prayer was answered instantly. With a roaring thunder of rocket-tubes the life-boat bulleted up from the ground!