We couldn’t see the other doors, so I backed away a few steps, which still didn’t provide visibility. But it could at least prevent a total surprise. I also kept an eye on the antennas. I couldn’t help wondering how the people at Earth’s moonbase would have felt had aliens shown up and come knocking. Which brought Octavia to mind.
Gabe said, He went no further.
“We could try the other doors.”
He knocked again.
I wondered how long it had been since anything had set down on the launchpad. The terrestrial moonbase, of course, was now a museum. When I was there with Alex a few months earlier, it had been crowded with visitors. This place didn’t look as if anybody had ever dropped by.
We waited another minute or two and finally Gabe reached up and pressed the button. There was no immediate way to know whether it was working. Gabe held his left hand against the door in an effort to determine if anything was happening inside. Then without warning the door swung outward, revealing an air lock.
If we’d been hesitant before, the sight of that empty cubicle, sealed off by a second door, introduced a sense that we were being careless. asked Gabe.
I had a cutter, so we didn’t need to worry about getting trapped in the air lock. “We’ve come this far,” I said.
I could hear the reluctance in his voice. Which told me he retained the good sense I’d always known. But we were committed, and the stakes were too high to walk away.
He went in and I followed. The cubicle was large enough to provide space for about six people. The outer hatch closed with no help from us. A ceiling light came on. And I became aware of air pressure starting to build. Gabe was facing the inner door. He kept me behind him.
I didn’t see another button anywhere. Presumably everything was automatic once you started the process. The inner door should open on its own as soon as the air pressure matched whatever was normal in the interior.
It took about a minute. Then the door swung wide. More lights came on and we were looking across an empty room. There were a couple of oversized chairs. The interior was circular and lined with display screens and what looked like communication equipment. A few doors lined the walls. And on the other side of the dome a passageway opened probably into the other building. Nothing moved. The temperature was cool but much warmer than outside.
We walked over and looked at the communication equipment: microphones, speakers, wiring, probably an amplifier, a keyboard. Gabe was studying the keys.
he asked, thinking of the symbols on Rick Harding’s trophy.
“Not really. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them.”
We were both watching the exit from the passageway.
“Let’s go look,” I said.
The attendant building dome was also empty. It contained eight sets of living quarters, a combined galley and dining area, and a couple of large rooms that probably served simply for hanging out. There were clothes in some of the rooms, large sizes again. The owners were bipeds, but we found no pictures to reveal what they looked like. There was extensive electronic equipment. Washrooms had toilet and shower facilities, sinks and mirrors. Cabinets contained paste and medications. The paste might have been for teeth, or it was possibly a disinfectant. We opened faucets and got running water, though not much more than a dribble. And it was cold.
We came out the same way we’d gone in. Neither of us was saying much. We returned to the lander, took a last look around, and lifted off. The world in the sky still floated in the same place, almost directly overhead. “It probably never moves,” said Gabe.
Belle said.
That night I sent another message to Chad: .
XXIV.
.
The planet was lush and green and alive. We looked through the scopes and saw animals everywhere. Birds fluttered through the skies and four-legged creatures wandered in the sunlight. But there was still no sign of vehicles. No bipeds moved across the bridges linking skyscrapers. The roads were empty, no ships rode the vast oceans, and no planes were visible anywhere. Stranger still, nothing moved in the small villages scattered across the countryside.
“What is going on here?” I said.
Gabe nodded. “I thought at first that maybe they did underground transport, but that makes no sense. It wouldn’t even explain why all the beaches are empty.”
His expression suggested his shoes were too tight.
We were approaching orbit. Normally, I’d have told Belle to take us in, but we were still waiting for something to happen and I wanted to have my hands on the controls if we got a surprise. So I eased us into a low orbit just above the atmosphere and as much away from clouds as I could manage.
The sun was behind us, and we were moving across a boundless ocean with occasional strings of islands. Eventually we passed above an empty shoreline and continued over what appeared to be a series of small towns. Sometimes houses were clustered in fields, sometimes they were spread out over a wide area. And there cars. But none moved. A couple of animals that might have been deer stood in the middle of one of the towns chewing on something.
The sun got farther behind. We overtook the twilight, which gradually turned into night.
Gabe was leaning to his right, looking out the side window. “What the hell is this about?” he asked. No lights were coming on. The darkness on the ground was unbroken. “Maybe,” he said, “we should go down and knock.”
“I’m not sure we should try that again.”
A big city appeared off to port. Shrouded in darkness. The buildings had no lights. Nor did the streets and parks. Or the houses scattered through the area.
“Belle,” said Gabe, “is it possible the radio transmissions came from somewhere else?”
she said.
“Is there another planet in the zone?”
Gabe sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “This is really strange.”
We traveled through the night and caught up with the sun about forty minutes later. By then Belle was certain there was no other world in the system that could support life. “Good enough,” said Gabe. “Are we getting any transmissions from the satellites?”