Marie screamed as an inner door opened to disclose a long, narrow
corridor beyond.
Simultaneous with the opening of the second door, I felt air press
against my spacesuit. Before, our suits had been puffed outward by the
pressure of air inside. Now our spacesuits were slack and dangling on
our bodies.
We looked at each other and then at the inviting corridor beyond the
open door.
We went single file, first Kane, then his wife Marie. Verana followed
next and I was the last.
We walked slowly, examining the strange construction. The walls were
featureless but still seemed alien. At various places on the walls were
the outlines of doors without handles or locks.
Kane pressed his shoulder against a door and shoved. The door was
unyielding.
I manipulated the air-vent controls of my spacesuit, allowed a small
amount of the corridor's air into my helmet and inhaled cautiously.
It smelled all right. I waited and nothing happened. Gradually, I
increased the intake, turned off the oxygenating machines and removed
my helmet.
"Shut off your oxy," I suggested. "We might as well breathe the air in
this place and save our supply. We may need the oxygen in our suits
later."
They saw that I had removed my helmet and was still alive and one by
one removed their own helmets.
* * * * *
At the end of the corridor, Kane stopped before a blank wall. The sweat
on his face glistened dully; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Kane was
a pilot and one of the prerequisites for the job of guiding tons of
metal between Earth and the Moon was a good set of nerves. Kane excited
easily, his temper was fiery, but his nerves were like steel.
"The end of the line," he grunted.
As though to disprove the statement, a door on his right side opened
soundlessly.
He went through the doorway as if shoved violently by an invisible hand.
The door closed behind him.