Hands lifted the helmet from his head, deflated and unfastened the spacesuit. "How are the others making out?" Alan gasped.
"They're gone. All gone. Five ships, five brave crews...."
"And the Federation?"
"Three ships left."
"Can we beat them to the moon?"
"We can try."
Just then the reporter joined Alan and the two crewmen in the companionway. "You'll reach the moon, all right," he said.
He was pointing an atomic pistol at them.