They walked back and the lead wall swung closed behind them. The soldiers left the chamber.
"Two periods from now," Franks said softly, "an initial investigating party will be ready to go surface-side. We're going up the Tube in suits, up to the top—the first human party to leave undersurface in eight years."
"It may mean nothing," Moss said, "but I doubt it. Something's going on, something strange. The leady told us no life could exist above without being roasted. The story doesn't fit."
Taylor nodded. He stared through the peep slot at the immobile metal figure. Already the leady was beginning to stir. It was bent in several places, dented and twisted, and its finish was blackened and charred. It was a leady that had been up there a long time; it had seen war and destruction, ruin so vast that no human being could imagine the extent. It had crawled and slunk in a world of radiation and death, a world where no life could exist.
And Taylor had touched it!
"You're going with us," Franks said suddenly. "I want you along. I think the three of us will go."
Mary faced him with a sick and frightened expression. "I know it. You're going to the surface. Aren't you?"
She followed him into the kitchen. Taylor sat down, looking away from her.
"It's a classified project," he evaded. "I can't tell you anything about it."