"Yes," I said.
We went back. Some ten of us--a line of grotesque figures bounding
with slow, easy strides over the jagged, rock-strewn plain. Our lights
danced before us.
The _Planetara_ came at last into view. My ship. Again that pang swept
me as I saw her. This, her last resting place. She lay here, in her
open tomb, shattered, broken, unbreathing. The lights on her were
extinguished. The Erentz system had ceased to pulse--the heart of the
dying ship, for a while beating faintly, but now at rest.
We left the two girls with some of Grantline's men at the admission
port. Snap, Grantline and I, with three others, went inside. There
still seemed to be air, but not enough so that we dared remove our
helmets.
It was dark inside the wrecked ship. The corridors were black. The
hull control rooms were dimly with Earthlight straggling through the
windows.
This littered tomb. Cold and silent with death. We stumbled over a
fallen figure. A member of the crew. Grantline straightened from
examining it.
"Dead," he said.
Earthlight fell on the horrible face. Puffed flesh, bloated red from
the blood which had oozed from its pores in the thinning air. I looked
away.
We prowled further. Hahn lay dead in the pump room. The body of
Coniston should have been near here. We did not see it. We climbed up
to the slanting, littered deck. The air up here had all almost hissed
away.