Followed by Barger and Kindt, he set out toward the wrecked liner. The going was rough, uncertain, over the great jagged meteors. They were forced to leap from rock to rock, skirt huge meteorites. Small stones rolled and slipped under their feet and once Barger fell through a space between two of the dark ferrous rocks, was saved only by gripping a projecting ledge, hanging on with torn hands until the others dragged him up to safety.
Sliding, stumbling over the rubble, Haller kept his gaze on the Cosmic. The liner was badly battered, her nose crumpled as if she had crashed on landing. Haller forged ahead grimly through the gray half-light of the twilight zone that lay between darkside and sunside of the mad little world. Past ship after ship they toiled, rusty freighters, queer century-old exploring craft, gaunt skeletons of vessels half-buried in the débris.
No signs of life were visible aboard the Cosmic as they drew near. Haller's face was a strained mask.
"Cap'n!" Barger paused, his gray-stubbled face drawn. "Look! Out there!"
Haller turned, staring, but there was nothing to be seen except the shattered rocks, the desolate, silent ships.
"Well?" he said sharply. "What was it?"
"Thought I saw something moving over yonder," Barger muttered. "Queer-looking figure that was human and still wasn't. Nerves, I guess, or this damned shadowy light."
"Sure. Nerves." Haller moved ahead impatiently. What would he find aboard the Cosmic? What had happened to those on the wrecked vessel?
The silent, dust-shrouded liner loomed above them, now. One of her airlocks was curiously fused, blackened, and nearly twisted from its massive hinges. Haller seized the flush-sunk ring bolt and, followed by his companions, drew himself into the ship.