Foundation and Earth - Isaac Asimov [142]
“So the moss grows there.”
“Yes.”
It seemed a long walk back to the ship, much longer and, of course, hotter than the one they had taken at dawn. The ship was still in the shade when they got there, however; that much Trevize had calculated correctly, at least.
Pelorat said, “Look!”
Trevize saw. The boundaries of the mainlock were outlined in green moss.
“More leakage?” said Pelorat.
“Of course. Insignificant amounts, I’m sure, but this moss seems to be a better indicator of trace amounts of carbon dioxide than anything I ever heard of. Its spores must be everywhere and wherever a few molecules of carbon dioxide are to be found, they sprout.” He adjusted his radio for ship’s wavelength and said, “Bliss, can you hear me?”
Bliss’s voice sounded in both sets of ears. “Yes. Are you ready to come in? Any luck?”
“We’re just outside,” said Trevize, “but don’t open the lock. We’ll open it from out here. Repeat, don’t open the lock.”
“Why not?”
“Bliss, just do as I ask, will you? We can have a long discussion afterward.”
Trevize brought out his blaster and carefully lowered its intensity to minimum, then gazed at it uncertainly. He had never used it at minimum. He looked about him. There was nothing suitably fragile to test it on.
In sheer desperation, he turned it on the rocky hillside in whose shadow the Far Star lay. —The target didn’t turn red-hot. Automatically, he felt the spot he had hit. Did it feel warm? He couldn’t tell with any degree of certainty through the insultated fabric of his suit.
He hesitated again, then thought that the hull of the ship would be as resistant, within an order of magnitude at any rate, as the hillside. He turned the blaster on the rim of the lock and flicked the contact briefly, holding his breath.
Several centimeters of the moss-like growth browned at once. He waved his hand in the vicinity of the browning and even the mild breeze set up in the thin air in this way sufficed to set the light skeletal remnants that made up the brown material to scattering.
“Does it work?” said Pelorat anxiously.
“Yes, it does,” said Trevize. “I turned the blaster into a mild heat ray.”
He sprayed the heat all around the edge of the lock and the green vanished at the touch. All of it. He struck the mainlock to create a vibration that would knock off what remained and a brown dust fell to the ground—a dust so fine that it even lingered in the thin atmosphere, buoyed up by wisps of gas.
“I think we can open it now,” said Trevize, and, using his wrist controls, he tapped out the emission of the radio-wave combination that activated the opening mechanism from inside. The lock gaped and had not opened more than halfway when Trevize said, “Don’t dawdle, Janov, get inside. —Don’t wait for the steps. Climb in.”
Trevize followed, sprayed the rim of the lock with his toned-down blaster. He sprayed the steps, too, once they had lowered. He then signaled the close of the lock and kept on spraying till they were totally enclosed.
Trevize said, “We’re in the lock, Bliss. We’ll stay here a few minutes. Continue to do nothing!”
Bliss’s voice said, “Give me a hint. Are you all right? How is Pel?”
Pel said, “I’m here, Bliss, and perfectly well. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so, Pel, but there’ll have to be explanations later. I hope you know that.”
“It’s a promise,” said Trevize, and activated the lock light.
The two space-suited figures faced each other.
Trevize said, “We’re pumping out all the planetary air we can, so let’s just wait till that’s done.”
“What about the ship air? Are we going to let that in?”
“Not for a while. I’m as anxious to get out of the space suit as you are, Janov. I just want to make sure that we get rid of any spores that have entered with us—or upon us.”
By the not entirely satisfactory illumination of the lock light, Trevize turned his blaster on the inner meeting of lock and hull, spraying the heat methodically along the floor, up and around, and back