2001_ A Space Odyssey - Arthur C. Clarke [28]
That left two alternatives — the planets, and the stars. Yet all the evidence was against intelligent life elsewhere in the Solar System — or indeed life of any kind except on Earth and Mars. The inner planets were too hot, the outer ones far too cold, unless one descended into their atmosphere to depths where the pressures amounted to hundreds of tons to the square inch.
So perhaps these visitors had come from the stars — yet that was even more incredible. As he looked up at the constellations strewn across the ebon lunar sky, Floyd remembered how often his fellow scientists had “proved” that interstellar travel was impossible. The journey from Earth to Moon was still fairly impressive; but the very nearest star was a hundred million times more distant… Speculation was a waste of time; he must wait until there was more evidence,
“Please fasten your seat belts and secure all loose objects,” said the cabin speaker suddenly. “Forty degree slope approaching.”
Two marker posts with winking lights had appeared on the horizon, and the bus was steering between them. Floyd had barely adjusted his straps when the vehicle slowly edged itself over the brink of a really terrifying incline, and began to descend a long, rubble-covered slope as steep as the roof of a house. The slanting earthlight, coming from behind them, now gave very little illumination, and the bus’s own floodlights had been switched on. Many years ago Floyd had stood on the lip of Vesuvius, staring into the crater; he could easily imagine that he was now driving down into it, and the sensation was not a very pleasant one.
They were descending one of the inner terraces of Tycho, and it leveled out again some thousand feet below. As they crawled down the slope, Michaels pointed out across the great expanse of plain now spread out beneath them.
“There they are,” he exclaimed. Floyd nodded; he had already noticed the cluster of red and green lights several miles ahead, and kept his eyes fixed upon it as the bus edged its way delicately down the slope. The big vehicle was obviously under perfect control, but he did not breathe easily until it was once more on an even keel.
Now he could see, glistening like silver bubbles in the earthlight, a group of pressure domes — the temporary shelters housing the workers on the site. Near these was a radio tower, a drilling rig, a group of parked vehicles, and a large pile of broken rock, presumably the material that had been excavated to reveal the monolith. This tiny camp in the wilderness looked very lonely, very vulnerable to the forces of nature ranged silently around it. There was no sign of life, and no visible hint as to why men had come here, so far from home.
“You can just see the crater,” said Michaels. “Over there on the right — about a hundred yards from that radio antenna.”
So this is it, thought Floyd, as the bus rolled past the pressure domes, and came to the lip of the crater. His pulse quickened as he craned forward for a better view. The vehicle began to creep cautiously down a ramp of hard-packed rock, into the interior of the crater. And there, exactly as he had seen it in the photographs, was TMA-1.
Floyd stared, blinked, shook his head, and stared again. Even in the brilliant earthlight, it was hard to see the object clearly; his first impression was of a flat rectangle that might have been cut out of carbon paper; it seemed to have no thickness at all. Of course, this was an optical illusion; though he was looking at a solid body, it reflected so little light that he could see it only in silhouette.
The passengers were utterly silent as the bus descended into the crater. There was awe, and there was also incredulity — sheer disbelief that the dead Moon, of all worlds, could have sprung this fantastic surprise.
The bus came to a halt within twenty feet of the slab and broadside on so that all the passengers could examine