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done. By a million to one chance, his impulsive shot had uncovered the top of an artificial shaft, which had been let into the asteroid, loosely covered over, by a surface that now obviously seemed artificial, or at least, if natural, very unusual. He imagined the effect he would have gotten in the limestone hill country, had he taken a shot somewhere in the hills of Derbyshire. He imagined himself gazing down an 800-foot cavern or mine shaft. Natural or artificial was, at the moment, still a matter of conjecture. The point was that his chance shot had uncovered the lid of some kind of sub-asteroidanean passageway, cavern or tunnel.
    The intelligence that lurked in the depths of his subconscious was putting things together for him, even though his conscious mind was still fogged and shaken from the crash and the shock of seeing all his friends dead… It dawned on him like a sudden idea from outside, like a sudden flash of inspiration, that here was the obvious escape route from the radioactivity. If the surface of the asteroid was radioactive, might it not be safe in its interior regions? Should he descend? Would it not be better to risk the radioactivity and remain on the surface?
    The auditory receivers on the outside of his suit were tuned in to maximum reception. He suddenly became aware that there was another odd noise. It might have been imagination—but he didn't think it was. It was a very low, dull rumble as though the ground were shaking. What the devil could that be? Distant footsteps? But what manner of creature would make footsteps like that? Thud! About a four-second pause, and then—thud! Three or four seconds, and then—thud!
    It told him something about the atmosphere as well. There had to be an atmosphere of some kind—albeit a thin one—otherwise he would have heard nothing, or would he have sensed a vibration? He wasn't sure. He was too muddled to think clearly. He guessed there was an atmosphere of some kind, though. Which again spoke of something unnatural, just as did the gravity. Thud! Definitely a footstep! But what a size! What kind of foot would make that sort of noise? Could it be some kind of trick of the asteroid? He wondered hopefully for a second whether someone from the ship had not been dead after all, and was even now coming to look for him—had followed his tracks through the shingle. Thud! Crunch! That was no human footstep, no matter how magnified. He made up his mind suddenly about the tunnel. It was the only place of concealment about the tunnel. Gingerly he lowered himself over the edge and hung by his hands, peering toward the horizon.
    Then he saw it. And the blood congested in his veins and arteries. His eyes stood out from his head as though they were going to touch the very lenses. He felt as though an iron hand had seized him by the throat and were shaking out his life and his courage at the same time.
    Something was coming, something so hideous and horrible that his first thought was that some unutterable prehistoric monster had risen from the pages of history where it belonged and was now stalking this nightmare world to destroy him. His nerveless fingers lost their grip and he found himself falling… falling sickeningly into the subterranean depths of the asteroid.

CHAPTER IV
    Jonga and Krull were working round the clock! Nerves that had been previously badly frayed by monotony were now being stretched and strained by lack of sleep and anxiety.
    Jonga put the computer through its paces for the fourth time during its twelve-hour schedule.
    "I wish we could get some word, some report, from that patrol," he said for the tenth time.
    "So do I," said Krull. "I want to hear from them more than I want to win the inter-galactic sweep. I need news of them like I need blood."
    "You don't think the general's heard and hasn't told us?"
    "Rotherson's not that type of guy," said Krull, "and you know it."
    "Yes, yes, I know it. I'm sorry, Krull. It's just that I can't stick this