"No. Wass, how much time have we?"
"The ship leaves in eleven hours."
"Eleven hours," Rodney repeated. "Eleven hours!" He reached out for the
switch again. Martin swore, stepped forward, pulled him back roughly.
He directed his flashlight at Rodney's thin, pale face. "What do you
think you're doing?"
"We have to find out what all this stuff's for!"
"Going at it blindly, we'd probably execute ourselves."
"We've got to--"
"No!" Then, more quietly--"We still have eleven hours to find a way
out."
"Ten hours and forty-five minutes," Wass disagreed softly. "Minus the
time it takes us to get to the lifeboat, fly to the ship, land, stow
it, get ourselves aboard, and get the big ship away from the planet.
And Captain Morgan can't wait for us, Martin."
"You too, Wass?"
"Up to the point of accuracy, yes."
Martin said, "Not necessarily. You go the way the wind does, always
thinking of your own tender hide, of course."
Rodney cursed. "And every second we stand here doing nothing gives us
that much less time to find a way out. Martin--"
"Make one move toward that switchboard and I'll stop you where you
stand!"
* * * * *
Wass moved silently through the darkness beyond the torches. "We all
have guns, Martin."
"I'm holding mine." Martin waited.
After a moment, Wass switched his flashlight back on. He said quietly,
"He's right, Rodney. It would be sure death to monkey around in here."
"Well...." Rodney turned quickly toward the black arch. "Let's get out
of here, then!"
Martin hung back waiting for the others to go ahead of him down the
metal hall. At the other arch, where the ramp led downward, he called a
halt. "If the dome, or whatever it is, is a radiation screen there must
be at least half-a-dozen emergency exits around the city."
Rodney said, "To search every building next to the dome clean around
the city would take years."
Martin nodded. "But there must be central roads beneath this main level
leading to them. Up here there are too many roads."
Wass laughed rudely.
"Have you a better idea?"
Wass ignored that, as Martin hoped he would. He said slowly, "That
leads to another idea. If the band around the city is responsible for
the dome, does it project down into the ground as well?"
"You mean _dig_ out?" Martin asked.
"Sure. Why not?"
"We're wearing heavy suits and bulky breathing units. We have no
equipment."
"That shouldn't be hard to come by."
Martin smiled, banishing Wass' idea.
Rodney said, "They may have had their digging equipment built right in
to themselves."
"Anyway," Martin decided, "we can take a look down below."
"In the pitch dark," Wass added.
Martin adjusted his torch, began to lead the way down the metal ramp.
The incline was gentle, apparently constructed for legs shorter, feet
perhaps less broad than their own. The metal, without mark of any sort,
gleamed under the combined light of the torches, unrolling out of the
darkness before the men.
At length the incline melted smoothly into the next level of the city.
Martin shined his light upward, and the others followed his example.
Metal as smooth and featureless as that on which they stood shone down
on them.
Wass turned his light parallel with the floor, and then moved slowly in
a circle. "No supports. No supports anywhere. What keeps all that up
there?"
"I don't know. I have no idea." Martin gestured toward the ramp with
his light. "Does all this, this whole place, look at all familiar to
you?"