"Try again. By the infernal, Snap Dean, if you do anything to balk us,
you die!"
Miko scanned the apparatus with keen eyes. How much technical
knowledge of signaling instruments did this brigand leader have? I was
tense and cold with apprehension as I sat in a corner of the radio
room, watching Snap. Could Miko be fooled? Snap, I knew, was trying to
fool him.
The Moon spread close beneath us. My log-chart, computed up to thirty
minutes past, showed us barely some thirty thousand miles over the
Moon's surface. A silver quadrant. The sunset caught the Lunar
mountains, flung slanting shadows over the Lunar plains. All the disc
was plainly visible. The mellow Earthlight glowed serene and pale to
illumine the Lunar night.
The _Planetara_ was bathed in silver. A brilliant silver glare swept
the forward deck, clean white and splashed with black shadows. We had
partly circled the Moon so as now to approach it from the Earthward
side.
Miko for a time had been at my side in the turret. I had not seen
Coniston or Hahn of recent hours. I had slept, awakened refreshed, and
had a meal. Coniston and Hahn remained below, one or other of them
always with the crew to execute my sirened orders. Then Coniston came
to take my place in the turret, and I went with Miko to the radio
room.
"You are skillful, Haljan." A measure of grim approval was in his
voice. "You evidently have no wish to try and fool me in this
navigation."
I had not, indeed. It is delicate work at best, coping with the
intricacies of celestial mechanics upon a semicircular trajectory with
retarding velocity, and with a makeshift crew we could easily have
come upon real difficulty.
We hung at last, hull down, facing the Earthward hemisphere of the
Lunar disc. The giant ball of the Earth lay behind and above us--the
Sun over our stern quarter. With forward velocity almost checked, we
poised, and Snap began his signals to the unsuspecting Grantline.
My work momentarily was over. I sat watching the radio room. Moa was
here, close beside me. I felt always her watchful gaze, so that even
the play of my emotions needed reining.
Miko worked with Snap. Anita too was here. To Miko and Moa it was the
somber, taciturn George Prince, shrouded always in his black mourning
cloak, disinclined to talk; sitting alone, brooding and sullen. This
is how they thought of Anita.