In a vain attempt to appear calm, Ian had started a third read through of the Thermomine Manual. But the possibility of life aboard the ship was too much for him. Returning the manual to his back pocket, he started to pore through the hardcopy charts, quickly looking back at the cylinder for reference.
"The docking ports are on either end of the cylinder, Stasz. Shall we move in?"
Stasz started to maneuver in for final approach.
"Who's going?" Ian asked quietly.
Shelley turned expectantly and he gave her the nod. He looked at Ellen, half expecting her to back away after the last experience, but to his surprise she mumbled a brief reply about earning her keep. The two women pushed off and floated back to the suit room and docking port.
Richard looked at Ian with a bleary gaze. He had yet to recover from last watch's feast. Ian suspected that he didn't look much better.
"Why don't you stay here with Stasz, as backup?"
"Most gentlemanly of you, my dear professor." He winked at Ian and glided up to Shelley's vacated chair.
Ian pushed off for the open hatchway. As he cleared the doorway he heard a muffled comment and, looking back, saw Richard pass his flask to Stasz.
"For God sake, we're going out to risk our asses and you're soaking it up in here."
Stasz gave a quick smile to Ian, took a pull on the straw, and floated the flask back to its owner.
"Steadies me nerves, it does," he said with an absurd brogue.
"If you need to go in there and get us out," Ian shouted indignantly, "I don't want a couple of drunks responsible for saving my life."
"I'm insulted, my overly righteous friend," Richard replied. "This doesn't sound like the comrade of my hap pier youth. Why, you're becoming too official, Ian Lack- lin."
With a miffed expression Richard turned away to gaze out at the docking bay, which was lining up in the center of the viewport.
"Idiots," Ian muttered, and continued aft to join the women.
"Port seals secured, Ian. You can open it up at your discretion."
"Right. Stasz, stand by if we need any help." He tried to detect any sign of drunkenness in the pilot's voice, but so far nothing.
Ian looked back at Ellen and Shelley. "Ready?"
They floated side by side at the back end of the cham ber. Shelley, of course, could barely contain her eager ness. Hell, maybe he should let her pop the door while he hid back there with Ellen. He was almost tempted to do it, but what little male chauvinism he possessed forced him to lead the way.
"You both have the specs on this unit. Given its found ing philosophy, if anyone is alive, we should find some interesting results."
They nodded silently, and he knew that a nightmare image was hovering in Ellen's mind. It floated in his consciousness, as well.
Ian punched up the control panel command and the airlock hatch slid back, revealing the colony's door on the other side. It was lightly pitted by micrometeor im pacts, but the old Anglo-American writing and instructions were still clearly visible. He double-checked the procedure, took hold of the handles, and braced his feet in the magnetic footholds that Stasz had installed. With one sharp pull, the doorway silently opened and a whoosh of air whistled past him. Instinctively he closed his eyes and braced for another nightmare. Nothing touched him; finally he opened his eyes and looked around.
The vessel's airlock chamber was empty. Pushing off, Ian and the two women drifted into the narrow room. Ellen turned and fumbled with the hatch mechanism, se curing the vessel from the outside.
She gave Ian the go-ahead. Talcing a deep breath, he popped the next door, which opened onto the main dock ing chamber. The room was dimly lit by translucent panels, and a quick scan told him that the chamber had not been maintained or entered in years.
The vast majority of light panels were dark, and all were covered with a thin coating of dust.
"Must be running on automatic," Shelley whispered.
"If my Old English spelling is good," Ellen interrupted, "I believe that sign over there points us to the main cham ber."
Following Ellen's lead, they soon faced a large circular doorway at the end of the corridor.
"This is the end of the nonrotational shaft," Ian said, "assuming, of course, that the blueprints are correct. We clear this door and then enter the main rotating cylinder. Be careful as you go through, you'll be a hundred and fifty meters up from the floor. If you push off too rapidly, you'll float out into the center and it will be a pain to get you back. Just grab hold of the handrails and start to pull yourself down. Watch how I do it."
"Tell me, Dr. Lacklin," Ellen interjected with a playful touch of malice, "how much experience have you had doing this sort of thing?"
"None," he whispered, trying to cover the rush of fear.
He pulled the door release, and as it started to slide open, he felt a moment of panic. But the hatch slid quietly back and there was a barely perceptible rush of air as the pressure equalized. Ian gulped and pushed out.
It was stunning; beyond his wildest imaginings… and he was terrified.
The cylinder stretched on for nearly a kilometer, ver dant with lush semitropical growth. Broad bands of green alternated with narrow fields of black, through which the reflected images of the stars shone in blazing intensity. Illumination came from the opposite end of the cylinder, where a battery of lights emitted a soft yellow glow that bathed the world in a gentle late-afternoon light. He looked down as he drifted out the doorway and a squeal of terror burst from his lips. He had the sensation of falling and the wild vertigo turned his stomach upside down. The network of handhold cables were all around him and in desperation he snagged hold of one and hung on for dear life.
Laughing, Shelley came up and grabbed hold alongside of him.
"Do as you do, Dr. Lacklin," Shelley said teasingly, and she pushed herself off the handhold and drifted over to the stairs that spiraled down along the cylinder wall. He started to follow her.
Within the first fifty feet he started to detect a faint sense of gravity, but Shelley still continued in a head-down direction, as if diving toward the ground.
"Not too fast, Shelley," Ian called, as if advising an overzealous child, "it can be deceiving. Gravity will pick up significantly the farther we are from the center of ro tation."
He looked straight up and noticed that Ellen was com ing down feet first, still holding on to the handrailings. He liked the fact that she was frightened; somehow it made his own fear more palatable.
They passed the fifty-meter marker and now even Shel ley was feet down and using the steps. She was taking ten steps at a bound, but at least she was slowing down.
"Ian, look at that."
Ellen had stopped at the fifty-meter observation plat form. He suddenly realized that she had followed the right course of action. They all should have observed the sit uation carefully before barging down to the cylinder floor.
"What is it?"
"First off, none of the structures down there seems occupied, they're all overgrown. Second, I've yet to see a person. But third, look up overhead and about halfway down the cylinder."
Ian leaned his head back and gazed up to where she was pointing. It was a shock to see the greenness directly above them, where a lifetime of conditioning had taught him that the sky should be located. He scanned the distant floor for several minutes before finally locating what she had pointed out.
"It looks like smoke."
"Shelley, hold it up for a minute." He looked down and saw that she was continuing on.
"Shelley!"
She stopped, looked back up, and tapped the side of her helmet to signal there was something wrong with her transceiver. Ian gestured for her to hold, but she turned and kept on going.
"She's full of crap," Ellen muttered.