"George Zebrowski - The Star Web" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zebrowski George)

overpants. In a moment the outer door closed gently.

Juan felt the sudden absence of the anxiety which had been eating away at the back of his consciousness
from the first minutes after Malachi's accident. He had restrained it, as they all had, together with their
distaste for Summet.

When he was dressed he woke Lena, then Magnus. In fifteen minutes they were standing outside in the
morning sun, squinting at him.

"Malachi's alive," he said, "he was just here and he wants us to meet him at the entrance to the structure,
minus Summet and his friend."

"I'm so glad he's alive," Lena said.

Magnus sighed, obviously relieved.

Shivering in his parka, Obrion led the way past the cabins housing the excavation teams, past the
helicopters squatting on the snow covered ice, toward the crater they had scooped out to placate human
curiosity.

The weather was perfect again—a blue, cloudless sky, making for long, clear morning shadows. Obrion
led them single file down into the crater.

Malachi was waiting at the entrance. Obrion grasped him by the hand; Lena hugged him while Magnus
patted him on the back.

"I guess it wasn't my time," Malachi said, "much too early, really."

"How are you, what happened?" Lena asked.

"I'll have to show you." He turned and sat down on the edge of the circular entrance. "Follow me," he
said and jumped down into the well of blue light.

One by one they followed him down into the opening. Once below, Juan reminded them all to put on the
packs they had left for the next day's exploring. Finally they went after Malachi into the curving
passageway. When they came again to the well, Malachi turned around and grinned. "Later we might all
become adept at using this thing, but for now we'll have to hike the way I came out."

Obrion led the way after him down the continuing curve, thinking of all the hundreds of chambers hiding
behind the sealed membranes of potentially fluid matter of which the doorways were made.
After a good quarter hour of marching, Obrion called after Malachi. "How much more?"

"Three or four kilometers," the black man said without turning around. "This is the long way."

For a moment Juan was surprised at his own easy acceptance of what they were doing, and the least of it
was the fact that they were in technical violation of Summet's orders. But more importantly he realized
that they knew nothing of what they were walking into. Their brains and senses drew a blank in terms of
an explanation of what they were seeing. Only Malachi seemed to know something, and Malachi was a
friend who had come back from near death as if in answer to a desperate wish.