sider what follows to be equally valid.
The final entry in the log will be seen to record that we were approaching Mars on a spiral. The last message we sent before landing will be found on the file: "About to attempt landing area Isidis—Syrtis Major. Intended location: Long. 275: Lat. 48."
When Camilio had despatched that message, he swung the transmitter across on its bracket to lock it safely against the wall, and then lay back on his couch. Raul and I were already in position on ours. My work was finished, and I had nothing to do but wait. Raul had the extension control panel clamped across his couch in a position where he would still be able to operate it against a pressure of several gravities, if necessary. Everything had gone according to expectations except that our outer surface temperature was somewhat higher than had been calculated—suggesting that the atmosphere is a trifle denser than has been assumed—but the error was small, and of little practical significance.
Raul set about adjusting the angle of the ship, tilting her to preserve the inclination in relation to the braking thrust as we slowed. Our couches turned on their gimbals as the speed decreased and the braking thrust of the main tubes gradually became our vertical support. Finally, when the speed was virtually zero, and we were standing balanced on our discharge, his job, too, was over. He switched-in the landing-control, and lay back, watching the progress of our descent, on the dials.
Beneath us, there now splayed downwards eight narrow radar beams matched for proximity, and each controlling a small lateral firing-tube. The least degree of tilt was registered by one or more of the beams, and corrected by a short blast which restored the ship to balance on the point of the main drive. Another beam directed vertically downwards controlled the force of the main drive itself, relating it to the distance of the surface below, and thus regulating the speed of the descent.
The arrangement lowered us, smoothly, and there was only the slightest of lurches as our supporting tripod set down, Then the drive cut out, vibration ceased, and an almost uncanny peace set in.
No one spoke. The completeness of the silence began to be broken by the ticking
