“He’s lying.”
“Damn right he is.” Saying the words made Nigel sure of it.
“So our chances are good.”
“Better than Dave says, anyway. They must be.”
“If the Egg goes off at all. We’ve hauled it all this way, maybe it’s crapped out by now. They told us there would be a seven percent probability of that even before we left, remember? The thing might not work at all, Nigel.”
“I’ll bet it’s going to, though.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much will you bet? The lives of the rest of the human race?”
“If I have to.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No. The odds are good. Dave is lying to us.”
“Why would he do that?”
Nigel frowned. Len’s doubts were beginning to reinforce his own. How sure was he? But he shook off the mood and said, “They don’t want any risk, Len. They want two heroes and a lot of lives saved and no worries. They want to just keep it simple.”
“And you’re after—”
“I want to know what this thing is. Who built it. How they propelled it, where they came from—”
“That’s a lot to expect of a bunch of artifacts.” “Maybe not. I saw some panels and consoles in there, I think. Could be the computerized records they used are still around.”
“If they used computers at all.”
“They must’ve. If we could get to some of the storage units—”
“You really think we could?”
Nigel shrugged. “Yes, I think so. I don’t know—nobody does. But if we can find out something new here, Len, it could pay off. New technology could get us out of the mess the world is in.”
“Like what?”
“A new power source. Maybe something with higher efficiency. That would be worth the chance.”
“Maybe.”
“Well …” Nigel felt his energy begin to drain away. “If you’re not with me, Len…”
There came a silence.
Ping went the capsule, stretching with the sun’s uneven heating. A metallic voice, asking tick ping its own questions. Could he really do it? No, absurd. Pointless. For what, after all? Why this comical risk? (Why leave England? Why go into space? Ping.) His parents had wondered that, he knew, though they’d never said it. Worried, even as they nudged him onward, where it would lead. And what was he going to look for in there? New wine, in this rocky old bottle? Or had humanity had enough wine already, thanks, hand held flat over the mouth of the glass, no. No, absurd. He was being impolite. All this stuff he’d done, all the work, really, you see, what was the point? Very well to search, but who pays the bill? Did he know—here his hands clenched, whitening—did he know what he was looking for? Step aside for a moment. Look at this matter. Was it rational? No. Absurd. No. He couldn’t. He spun from tick the voice but could not escape it. No. Ping. He spun… spun…
Nigel wet his lips and waited. The sun lay hot on the rock rim above. Its light reflected in the cabin and deepened the lines of strain in his face. He found he was holding his breath.
Then: “Nigel… look… don’t put me on the spot like this.”
Nigel sealed his suit again, automatically. He reached up and popped the hatch cover.
“I… I’ve got to go with Dave, buddy. This thing is too big for me to—”
“Okay,” Nigel said abruptly. “Okay, okay.”
“Look, I don’t want you to feel—”
“Yeah.” He reached up and pulled himself through the hatch, into the full glare. Looking up, his inner ear played a trick and he suddenly felt as though he was falling down a narrow canyon and into the sun, drawn by it. Automatically he clung to the hatch and twisted himself out, letting his equilibrium return with the sense of motion. He felt curiously calm.
“Nigel?”
He said nothing. Halfway along the module’s length was a flat brown box the size of a typewriter. He went for it hand over hand, legs free, his breath sounding abnormally loud. The clamps around the box opened easily and with one hand he swung it to his side and clipped it to his utility belt.
“Nigel? Dave wants to know—”
“I’m here. Wait a second.”
He found the extra food and air units to the aft of the module—emergency supplies, easily portable. He felt clumsy with all of them clinging to his waist, but if he moved carefully he should be able to carry them some distance without tiring. Sluggishly he made his way to the brownish-black rock below.
“Nigel?”
