But the murmur of voices continued.
He stepped outside. The airlock door clanged shut. He was caught by the biting dust and the shrill banshee wind. He fell, then scrambled erect.
To his right, he saw the silver sheen of Jacob's rocket shining behind a row of golden, eyelike portholes. Beneath it were black outlines of moving, helmeted figures.
He bent low to study the luminous dial of his compass.
Behind him was a grating and a sliding of metal. A movement in the darkness.
He turned.
Dimly illuminated by the glow from the rocket ports was the grim, stony face of Simple Simon.
The Venusian was like a piece of the night itself, compressed and solidified to form a living creature. The impression was contradicted only by the glowing whiteness of his eyes.
The reptilian body shuffled forward. The scales on his great face and chest reflected the lights from the rocket like Christmas tree ornaments dusted with gold.