In their sallow faces, and baggy eyes, Lamont could see that the days of long shifts, low oxygen and rationed food were beginning to show their effects on the crew.
Lamont experienced a moment of disorientation as he emerged into Westward's cavernous storage bay. The open belly of the asteroid pod was facing him near the center of the bay. For a few seconds, his eyes saw the large open hatch with the yellow status indicator light above it as something entirely incongruous: A gaping mouth, filled with cartoonishly long needle-like teeth, with a murkily glowing lantern suspended above it. He felt himself reeling on his feet until he was steadied by a firm hand on his arm. He looked up to see Lazarus Long, whose eyes regarded the newspaperman with open concern.
"Steady there, pops," Lazarus said.
"I'm alright," Lamont insisted, brushing the pilot's hand away. He had never noticed before that the blue of Lazarus' eyes, contrasting sharply with his black mop of hair, was almost purple. He remembered the moment of confusion he had experienced when he had returned to the command deck after a month's absence to find Lazarus occupying Rex's position at the helm. There were some ways in which the two were very much alike.
"There'll be other trips down to the moon," Lazarus reminded him, taking a step back. "Maybe you should take some time to rest."
"How much rest have you gotten lately?" Lamont asked sharply.
The young man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his serious expression changing in a flash to his usual quirky grin. "Touché. Liftoff is in ten minutes."
The turned to lope quickly in the direction of the asteroid pod. As Lamont followed him, his eye was distracted by a brief flash of sparks from one side of the bay. In the shadows, he noticed that two crew members were crouched beside a tall stack of metal crates, using what looked like welding torches.
Inside the belly of the asteroid pod, the atmosphere was subdued. Lamont counted eight crew members, all wearing copper-colored Martian undersuits, busily preparing for the expedition in near-silence. In their sallow faces, and baggy eyes, Lamont could see that the days of long shifts, low oxygen and rationed food were beginning to show their effects on the crew. Half of them were occupied with securing two large metal tanks to anchors in the floor of the pod. The others were inspecting and packing other equipment: Drills, spectrometer cameras, and some simple pick axes. At first, the crew members were so absorbed in their work that they apparently either didn't notice the newspaperman or simply disregarded him.
Then, suddenly, they all seemed to snap to attention, standing straight and looking in Lamont's direction. For a moment, Lamont thought that they had been startled by suddenly noticing his arrival, but the misconception was broken by the quiet creak of the gangplank behind him. He turned to see two more figures boarding the pod, both dressed like the rest in vacuum suits. One was the tall, slender form of Captain Carter, leaning on his cane as he climbed the ramp. The other was the much taller, much more slender form of Phobos. A murmur echoed through the cargo area as the Martian ducked his oversized head, nearly doubling over to enter the cramped interior of the pod.