Free Day of the Dragonstar by Thomas F. Monteleone, David Bischoff Page B

“We’ve got something to breathe inside, believe it or not. Once we close the second lock, we can discard the EVA gear. However, I want everybody to wear LS-rigs in case of an emergency. Stay close together and keep your radios on at all times. Keep your sidearms in yourholsters. No one is to draw arms without my authorization. Clear?”
    It seemed to be. Everybody agreed, either immersed in wonder or obviously touched with anxiety. “Friends,” he announced. “I give you Artifact One!”
    The proper levers were manipulated. The chamber pressurized. The inner lock opened. Lanced by the concentrated power of everyone’s electric torches, the dark corridor appeared less forbidding, and much more like the functional access to the ship’s interior it was.
    One by one, the members of the team entered the corridor, until the last, Doctor Pohl, a lanky, red-faced man, floated through. He gave the all-clear. Coopersmith closed the interior hatch, instructing all to divest themselves of the cumbersome, Deep-Space environment suits.
    Pulling off his helmet, Ian Coopersmith smelled the air. It owned a cool, antiseptic quality which, while not offensive, seemed alien in his nostrils. Perhaps it was merely psychosuggestion that gave it that scent. Still, it seemed odd.
    He waited until everyone was ready. They all wore field jumpsuits, backpacks, and emergency life support modules strapped to their chests. The LS units had collapsible face-masks which could supply water and oxygen for several hours.
    “Huff, patch me into the Heinlein link,” Coopersmith said as he grabbed onto the ladder leading upward into the belly of the alien ship.
    “You’re on, Captain.”
    “Copernicus, this is Coopersmith. We have entered the airlock assembly without a hitch. There appears to be an access corridor leading up into the main body of Artifact One. We’re going up now. Stand by.”
    After receiving the go-ahead from Kemp and his lunar team, Ian led the group upwards. The scraping of their boots on the metallic rungs and their labored breathing penetrated the surrounding hollow silence. The corridor, under the influence of Artifact One’s artificial gravity, appeared to be going straight “up” — actually toward the geometric center of the cylinder. The distance they traveled was approximately a hundred meters, ending on a ten by ten-meter platform fronting an entry hatch directly above their heads.
    When everyone had gathered on the platform, Coopersmith relayed their progress and position back to Copernicus. Receiving another go-ahead, he ordered Huff and Valdone to open the hatch manually by means of two interlocking gear-wheels. The sound of metal, moving smoothly, filIed the chamber. Instead of sliding into the bulkhead, like the previous ones, this hatch opened vertically. As the hatch parted, a bright seam appeared, as if there was an intense light source immediately beyond it.
    Everyone tensed momentarily. The two men paused as Coopersmith held up a cautionary hand.
    “Right,” he said, climbing the short ladder leading to the hatch. “Keep your sidearms ready, just in case there’s an unfriendly reception committee. Not likely, that, but we’d best be ready for anything. I’m going in first. Then Valdone. If that goes well, Thalberg, Pohl, and Hagar follow, in that order. Huff, you bring up the rear and establish a homing beacon at this hatch just in case there’s a maze of passageways. I want everybody to lock into the beacon. That way nobody gets lost. Also, Huff, I want you to maintain the link through the Heinlein back to Copernicus. Everybody got that?”
    Coopersmith looked at the party. Pohl’s mouth was ajar. He breathed heavily. Hagar’s fingers twitched nervously. Huff was stolid and alert. Valdone licked his lips expectantly. Thalberg’s eyes were wide and dark.
    For the first time Coopersmith realized just how beautiful those eyes were as they looked up toward an unknown future.
    He turned back to the