THE CORRIDORS LED, as the Titanian chieftain said, downward, winding, through the hill to the vale below, where rested Amborg’s navigable life-skiff. The small cruiser in which they were to fly to neighboring Uranus, there find aid and eager ears into which to pour their story.
And it did not surprise Chip Warren in the least to discover, about halfway down the flickering tunnel, a ledge of brightly gleaming ore that was resilient to the touch but broke the keen edge of the knife with which Chip attempted to scratch it.
“Ekalastron!” he cried. “See—a whole mountain of it! Not just a mine; a mountain! Enough to fill Man’s needs for centuries!”
Syd’s eyes, behind the quartzite globe, were big as saucers. He gulped, “C-chip—are you sure we’re alive? Do you think maybe we died back there in
