0399: Contemplating the Gravity

Ziggurat #314

Now that he could see the surface of the tower slipping by at close proximity, the uniform smoothness of its surface was disturbing. This was a fool's errand, and he was a fool for concocting it.

"If it's fun you want, sister, there are better ways to have it," Ed remarked from his seat at the pilot's console. "You'll be taking a real gamble. The properties of the tower's surface are basically unknown. It behaves as if it's magnetic, but that could just be the side-effect of some other mechanism. For all we know, it's not uniform, and not consistent."

"Do you mean that you're not sure these will work?" Lamont asked, looking down at the crampon attachment he was holding in his hand.

"They'll work great, as long as you're near a magnetic surface. The moment that stops being the case, they'll do nothing at all. The only chance you'll have at that point will be to use your grapple to find another magnetic surface within, say, a hundred feet at the most. Otherwise you'll be falling toward the moon, and the closer you are, the faster you'll fall."

"The tower has a gravity pull of its own," Constance pointed out. "We felt it when we approached the landing bay."

"That's synthetic," Ed replied. "Strongest at the top, weaker lower down, if it's there at all. I think that its artificial density toward the top is part of how it stays standing." As if to emphasize his point, the chief technician jabbed a button on his console, causing the asteroid pod to buck noticeably. "See, we just passed the halfway mark. If I weren't using counter-thrust, we'd be dropping toward the moon like a bowling ball."

Constance, who had already fastened her crampons to the thin-soled copper boots of her Martian suit, leaned over Lamont to peer through the port blister of the pod. "We'd best start looking for a place to jump off, then," she observed.

"Haven't you been listening?" Lamont asked tensely. Now that he could see the surface of the tower slipping by at close proximity, the uniform smoothness of its surface was disturbing. There were occasional protrusions of various kinds, but they were few and far between, and the notion that any one of them might provide him ingress seemed increasingly far-fetched. This was a fool's errand, and he was a fool for concocting it.

"You bet I have," Constance answered, turning her head briefly to look at the newspaperman. She was propped over his bucket seat, supporting herself by placing one hand on his headrest while the other gripped the back of the pilot's chair. "I've been listening to the Attendants. And I had to be careful what I said, because they've been listening to us too. I'll make it plain, Monty: They ain't going to let us go. We're what they've been waiting for, waiting ages. The only possible advantage we can have is if we catch them by surprise, and that sure as hell ain't going to happen from inside the tower."

Leaning back in his seat, Lamont looked at the young woman, wide-eyed. "Do you mean you don't want to stay here?"

Constance rolled her eyes dramatically before returning her attention to the view outside. "How's that for a breaking story? Hey, slow down, chief. There's something up ahead looks promising."