The New Frontiers shuddered to a halt, hung a second in midair, then abruptly slid forward and down. This was it!
Gene threw his arms over his eyes as ship and mountain met violently, throwing him from his seat and smashing his helmet-protected head against the control panel. Overhead a crossbeam groaned tormentedly and gave way under the stress, while outside an avalanche of stone, dislodged from the lofty heights, smashed against the thick hull in a steady rain—setting up such a din as only the forces of nature could.
Then all was still.
Gene climbed unsteadily to his feet and felt tenderly of his throbbing head. It still rested atop his shoulders. A wonder he hadn't been stretched out for the count. Except for minor bruises and cuts he was no worse for the experience.
A quick look about assured him that the damage to the interior of the ship was slight. The crumpled girder would not impair the craft's flight.
Clambering outside, he found one of the stern tubes smashed beyond repair. No matter. He could replace it with one of the two spare tubes the New Frontiers carried.
Altogether, the small scouter was not much worse for its experience. It would take but a few hours to install the new tube, and the battered but faithful ship would be ready to blast off to new adventures.
Gene turned curiously and took up a minute inspection of this tenth planet's terrain. Bleak and forbidding, jumbled masses of black rock stretch away to the horizon. Here and there, patches of slatish soil, naked and sterile, contended with the ever-present stone for surface space. He became aware of an insidious chill gnawing at his bones.
Cautiously lifting the air helmet he had donned before emerging from the ship, he sniffed tentatively of the dry, thin air. It seemed to have no ill effects on him. He removed the helmet and stood irresolute, wondering what next to do.