He turned questioning eyes to Lark O'Day. The one-time privateer took time from his labors for an encouraging grunt.
"I think so. We're hooked, but I think I can bounce her down on a slant. Hold tight, everybody."
Then in the vision lens which mapped that segment of space immediately before them, Flick Muldoon glimpsed the rapidly swelling globe which was Deimos, lesser moon of Mars. Like a great, gaunt blood-red rock it looked; quartering, then halving, then completely blotting out the vision plate.
Muldoon was momentarily aware of razor-sharp cliffs, high rocky plateaus, and jagged tors unsoftened by a blade of vegetation. Then the motors whined in shrill and screaming protest. The Liberty's nose came up, and the ship struck with a resounding crash. Struck ... bounced ... shook itself angrily ... and ground to a grating stop....
CHAPTER VIII
Power from Mars
"Well!" said Flick Muldoon. "Everything happens to us!"
Lark O'Day pushed a final stud which silenced the Liberty's motors. The ship lay still upon the satellite's rocky surface.
"That," said the pilot moodily, "is that! You all right, fellows? How about you, Muldoon?"
Flick eased himself from his chair, flexed arms and legs gingerly. "They seem to be all right," he admitted cautiously. "I'll study them for defects when the goose pimples go down."