Wass sighed and refused to meet Martin's gaze. Martin looked at him disgustedly, and then began to descend the rope, slowly, peering into the infinite, sparkling darkness pressing around him. At the bottom of the rope he sank to his knees in dust, and then was held even. He stamped his feet, and then, as well as he was able, did a standing jump. He sank no farther than his knees.
He sighted a path parallel with the avenue above, toward the nearest edge of the city. "I think we'll be all right," he called out, "as long as we avoid the drifts."
Rodney began the descent. Looking up, Martin saw Wass above Rodney.
"All right, Wass," Martin said quietly, as Rodney released the rope and sank into the dust.
"Not me," the answer came back quickly. "You two fools go your way, I'll go mine."
"Wass!"
There was no answer. The light faded swiftly away from the opening.
The going was hard. The dust clung like honey to their feet, and eddied and swirled about them until the purifying systems in their suits were hard-pressed to remove the fine stuff working in at joints and valves.
"Are we going straight?" Rodney asked.
"Of course," Martin growled.