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

He led them back to Lena and Rassmussen, and for a moment they all stared down into the drop.

"He must be dead," Summet said. "I don't see how anyone could survive a fall like that. Let's get out of
here. We'll be setting up a large base dome before getting into this thing any more." Suddenly Juan hated
the older man's cold British tones, his lack of concern for Malachi's life, as well as the rude hint that he
was about to assume command.

"We don't think he's dead, Titus," Juan said.

"Oh, why?"

"Well, you see, he didn't exactly fall. It seemed more like he floated down. He's in another section of this
thing and we've got to find him."

"What do you think, Rassmussen?" Summet asked.

"I tend to agree with Juan."

"Very well, we shall come back when we're better equipped for a search."

Juan was still angry as he led the way out.

Summet had insisted on the weapons. Obrion did not like wearing a gun, and he could tell that Lena
tolerated her own as she would a jawbone club attached to her waist. They had brought additional
provisions and first-aid supplies to add to their backpacks which they had left near the drop tube.

At the drop, Obrion led the way around, followed by Lena, Summet, Rassmussen and Ivan Dimitryk.
Ahead the passage continued in a slow curve, leading downward like a spiralling wormhole cutting
through an apple. Juan played with the image suggested by the corridor: a solid sphere locked in the
ageless ice. The impression seemed very immediate, almost as if it had been placed into his mind.
Malachi, you can't be dead, the thought intruded. He could not accept the picture of his friend's body
lying broken at the bottom of the strange well. Then he realized that there should be doors in a corridor,
unless the passage was for some kind of vehicle.

"Juan," Lena said behind him as they walked, "there's a sound coming from ahead, can't you hear it?"

He stopped and listened. Gradually a high whine became audible enough to be more than suggestion.

"I can hear it," Summet said. Juan detected a note of fear in his voice, while in his own mind grew the
image of a snakelike vehicle pushing through the curving passage to crush them.

"Quick, everyone against the wall!" Obrion shouted.

They all took a few steps to their right and waited with backs to the wall. As he started to lean against the
surface, Obrion felt it yield and he stumbled backward under the weight of his pack—

—and found himself in a brightly lit room, alone.

The silence was oppressive. The harsh white light made the skin of his hands seem almost transparent.