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"I'd give two weeks' leave for a ray gun now," said Tom.

"Want me to try the door?" asked Astro.

"Go ahead. We can't learn anything standing out here."

Astro put his hand on the circular latch and twisted it slowly. The door slid back on rollers, exposing a dark interior. The two boys slipped inside.

"Better close the door, Astro," said Tom. "The ammonia doesn't seem to be so thick in here."

Astro twisted the latch on the inner side and the heavy door rolled back into place. They turned slowly and saw a room that was dark except for a single light gleaming weakly through the haze of the gas. When their eyes became adjusted to the semidarkness, they moved, searching for another door in the huge room.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked Astro.

"I can't be positive," said Tom. "The stuff outside was too thick—" He stopped, touched Astro on the arm, and pointed to his left. There was the sound of a door sliding back and light filtered into the murky room. Quent Miles stood framed in the doorway, the unmistakable outline of a paralo-ray gun in his right hand.

"Drop to the floor," hissed Tom.

The two cadets dropped lightly to the floor and lay face down, while Quent Miles walked toward them fanning the gun around menacingly. Then, as he was about to step on Astro's hand, he turned and walked quickly back to the door. "You must be nuts, Charley," the two cadets heard him say. "There's nobody here."

The door rolled closed and the light was cut off. Tom and Astro rose and quietly made their way toward the door. They stopped, leaned against the door, and tried to hear what was going on inside, but were unable to distinguish more than a vague mumble of voices, because of their masks and the thickness of the door. Suddenly, however, they were conscious of footsteps approaching from the other side.

There was no time to hide. Each boy flattened himself against the wall on opposite sides of the door and held his breath as the door opened slowly.

* * * * *

"There can be no doubt about it, Steve," said Commander Walters to the young captain. "What we need are more powerful pumping stations for oxygen and additional generators for supplying power to the force field."

"How do you figure that, sir?" asked Strong.

"It's simply this," replied Walters. "The population here has nearly tripled in the past two years. The force-field screens were set up originally to accommodate only a minimum number of miners and their families. With the heavy demand for crystal, and therefore, more civilians to dig it out, the force field has been overloaded."

"But I still don't see how, sir," Strong protested.

"The more people, the more oxygen needed to keep them alive, right?"

Strong nodded.

"The force screens hold back the methane ammonia gas and create a vacuum into which we pump oxygen, right?"

Again Strong nodded.

"Now we have a demand for more and more oxygen, and we pump it into the vacuum, but eventually we arrive at the point where the pressure of the oxygen inside is greater than the pressure outside. Therefore, the screening force field is broken in its weaker points and the oxygen escapes. When the balance is restored, the rupture isn't sealed and gas seeps in."

Strong glanced questioningly at Captain Howard and at Kit Barnard, who had been asked to remain on Titan and lend his assistance to the problem of the screens.

"Well, gentlemen?" asked Walters, noticing Strong's glance. "That is my theory. Do any of you have a better one? Or a more reasonable explanation?"

Strong, Barnard, and Howard shook their heads. A complete check of every possible source of trouble had been made by the four men and they had found nothing.

"We still have to wait for a report from the electronics sections, sir," said Howard, rubbing his eyes. He started to get up and then suddenly slumped to the floor.

"By the craters of Luna!" cried Walters, jumping to the young officer's side. Howard was picked up and placed on a nearby couch. While Strong and Kit loosened his clothing,