Moran took an experimental step. He hurt, but he was sound.
"Nonsense!" he said. "The crew of the Malabar went off without taking the fuel-block from the wreck's engines. It's in a drawer in the Nadine's control-room with a note to Carol that I asked her to read should something happen to me. We may have to machine it a little to make it fit the Nadine's engines. But we're all right!"
Carol's voice came in his helmet-phone. It was shaky and desperately glad.
"You're—all right? Quite all right? Please hurry back?"
"We're on the way," said Moran.
He was pleased with Carol's reaction. He also realized that now there would be the right number of people on the Nadine; they would take off from this world and arrive reasonably near due-time at Loris without arousing the curiosity of space-port officials.
He looked about him. The way the others had come down was a perfectly good way to climb up again. On the surface, above, their trail would be clear on the multi-colored surface rusts. There were four men together, all with blast-pistols and three with torches. They should be safe.
Moran talked cheerfully, climbing to the plateau on which the Nadine had landed, trudging with the others across a world on which it was impossible to see more than a quarter-mile in any direction. But the way was plain. Beyond the mist Carol waited.