The ship appeared to move smoothly closer, looming over us, fine golden lines of decorative filigree work visible now against the black. A tiny square of pale light appeared, grew into a huge bay door that swallowed us.
The screen went dark, there was a gentle jar, then motionlessness. The port opened, silently.
"We've arrived," Foster said. "Shall we step out and have a look?"
"I wouldn't think of going back without one," I said. I followed him out and stopped dead, gaping. I had expected an empty hold, bare metal walls. Instead, I found a vaulted cavern, shadowed, mysterious, rich with a thousand colors. There was a hint of strange perfume in the air, and I heard low music that muttered among stalagmite-like buttresses. There were pools, playing fountains, waterfalls, dim vistas stretching away, lit by slanting rays of muted sunlight.
"What kind of place is it?" I asked. "It's like a fairyland, or a dream."
"It's not an earthly scheme of decoration," Foster said, "but I find it strangely pleasing."
"Hey, look over there," I yelped suddenly, pointing. An empty-eyed skull stared past me from the shadows at the base of a column.
Foster went over to the skull, stood looking down at it. "There was a disaster here," he said. "That much is plain."
"It's creepy," I said. "Let's go back; I forgot to get film for my Brownie."
"The long-dead pose no threat," said Foster. He was kneeling, looking at the white bones. He picked up something, stared at it. "Look, Legion."