And then, when it seemed that it must fly utterly to pieces, the thunder
diminished gradually to a bellow, and the bellow to a roar, and the
roaring.... And the unthinkable weight oppressing him grew less.

The Earth was farther away and moving farther still. They were 100 miles
high. They were 200 miles high....

There was no longer any sound at all, except their gaspings for breath.
Their muscles had refused to lift their chests at all during the most
brutal of the deceleration period.

Presently Joe croaked a question. He looked at the hull-temperature
indicators. They were very, very high. He found that he was bruised
where he had strapped himself in. The places where each strap had held
his heavy body against the ship's vibrations were deeply black-and-blue.

The Chief said thickly: "Joe, somehow I don't think this is going to
work. When do we hit again?"

"Three hours plus or minus something," said Joe, dry-throated. "We'll
hear from the ground."

Mike said in a cracked voice: "Radar reports we went a little bit too
low. They think we weren't tilted up far enough. We didn't bounce as
soon as we should."

Joe unstrapped himself.

"How about the other ship?"