Tempting as it was to try to reach those, he had already had one close brush with disaster and who knew what traps awaited him in these strange chambers? Over and above that, he just shouldn't touch anything. This location was pristine and should be studied with care.

Before he was a quarter of a turn around the circle, he found another ramp going up— as well as one going down that he had no desire to investigate. He ran up the ascending way; it curved, indicating that it was following the outer skin of the habitat and not diving into the interior. By the time he reached the top he was weightless.

This was no longer a room, but something like the space between the walls of two cylinders, laid on their sides. He had no doubt that the inner surface was the floor that verged on the lake. He bounced around the space until he found a gray oval with an indentation next to it, set into the inner wall. He couldn't recall seeing anything like this from the lakeside, but if the aquatic residents of the habitat were blind then they wouldn't have signified the door with color anyway. He pushed the indentation and when the door had deliquesced, he borrowed Corinna's maneuver and flipped himself through it.

The light here was different— yellow and multishadowed. It came from floodlights that poised in the microgravity like cobras on their cables. He was inside the axis cylinder… and there were his people.

Rue Cassels perched on one hand on the edge of the lake. Beside her Evan Laurel was playing out line. Their eyes were intent on the surface below them, as if they could drill through it by eyesight alone.

The temptation was too great. Michael eased off his helmet and drifted over as silently as he could, careful not to cast a shadow over the two watchers. When he was right behind them, he said in his most innocent voice, "What's up?"

"Listen, we're going after him no matter what you say," said Rue without looking up. Evan did look, did a double take and shouted, "Hey!"

Rue looked up too. Then, "He's back, he's back," "We've got him, come back!" they were shouting. Both grabbed the lines that led into the aerogel and began hauling on them.

Michael watched them pull for a few seconds; then he said, "Aren't you going to ask me how I got here?"

"Sorry," gasped Rue. "We gotta get out of here."

"What…?" A gloved hand gripped the side of the lake and a second later Dr. Herat was flying through the air, scattering sparkling aerogel beads. He was mouthing something inside his suit— grinning, of course.

"There's been an explosion on the Banshee," said Evan. "We've got to get back there with the sleds right away."

"The bastard wanted us to leave you," said Rue. She pulled and Corinna Chandra's faceplate broke the surface. "We told him to get stuffed."

Herat had his helmet off now. "Bequith, good to see you! Nothing broken, not too shaken, I hope?"

"A bit shaken," he admitted with a grin of his own. "But nothing serious. Professor, I've found it! Proof of the multispecies theory."

Herat gave a whoop and threw his helmet. It flew up past the axis and splashed into the aerogel. "Oh, I guess I need that. Excuse me." He dove after it.

The marines emerged from the gray soup and immediately started gesturing in the direction of the strap palace.

Michael watched Dr. Herat retrieve his helmet. "What about this explosion?"

Rue sighed heavily. "I don't know. Crisler said it was in the main life-support stacks. Dr. Katz flew back right away to help save them. Crisler wanted us all to come back and the marines pulled everybody out of the lake. We told them to go yank themselves and went back in."

So that was why nobody had come to his aid. He didn't feel any better about having been abandoned, but still the news was chilling. Had the explosion been deliberate? If so, was somebody willing to risk suicide in order to stop the expedition? Because destroying their life support this far from home was just that: suicide.

"Was anybody hurt?" he said after an awkward pause.

She shook her head. "But if the stacks are blown… we won't be able to stay. We'll have to go back into cold sleep and try to make it back to Chandaka." He could hear the deep disappointment in her voice, though her face showed nothing.

He frowned. "Maybe not. I don't know about food, but we might be able to get our air from here." He told her about the passages he had gone through. Rue listened in silence, then pushed her hair back with a gloved hand and puffed out her cheeks.

"Okay," she said. "That's the first good news I've heard in a long time. Thanks, Mike."

"Move out!" commanded the lead marine. They secured their helmets, grabbed their instruments and data packs and one by one flew up to the strap palace.

They had no idea what awaited them back on the ship, but Michael found himself absurdly happy anyway. He had made a discovery, survived an adventure, and he had brought news that had made Rue Cassels happy. Maybe he had been right to come after all.

HALFWAY BACK TO the Banshee, Rue's radio crackled into life.

"Rue, they're locking us up! We haven't done anything, but the bastards are blaming us for the explosion!" It was Max's voice; he sounded outraged. "Hey, give me that, you—" The radio went dead.

Rue felt fury wash over her. "Crisler," she said. She'd been right not to trust him— he was a control freak just like Jentry.

The two sleds seemed motionless, while in the distance the two-lobed white shape of the Banshee approached. She could see a black smear on one of the lobes now: a torn section of hull, right where the life-support stacks had been. So Crisler wasn't lying about that, anyway.

"What do we do, Rue?" asked Evan. He was on the other sled.

"Just wait a sec," she said. Rue had to keep reminding herself that Jentry was not the model for all men. She was probably overreacting. She put a call directly through to Crisler.

He appeared in a little inscape window down near where her hands gripped the sled. "Ms. Cassels, I'm sorry for this inconvenience," he said immediately. "But we've got a situation here."

"When I spoke to you ten minutes ago you said you had everything under control," she said.

"Yes, well… the important thing right now is to ensure that no further damage is done. Since I don't know who caused this explosion, everyone's a suspect. I'm confining everyone to quarters and that includes your people. It's just until we can investigate properly and make sure the Banshee's safe."

"And what about me?"

He hesitated, for just a second. "Naturally, you'll be free to move about as you wish."

She didn't believe him. That little hesitation said it all.

"All right then. Cassels out." She closed the window and leaned back. Her marine was at the front of the sled, his helmet turned toward the Banshee. Behind him was Salas, then Corinna. Rue had boarded the sled last.

They were still several minutes from the decel burn. She eased her feet out of the straps that connected her to the sled. Her heart was pounding. "I'm going to count on you guys to cooperate," she said on a public channel. "Do what you're told and answer any questions they might have. We'll get through this quicker that way. I mean, none of us did it, so we've nothing to worry about."

She spread her arms wide and cocked her hands down. Lifting her legs from the sled slowly, she gently fired her wrist jets. For a second it felt like she was hanging onto something with both hands. Then she cut the jets and watched the sled glide away.

"But what about Max?" blurted Evan.

"Max throws a fit over anything that keeps him from his hammock," she said. Her mouth felt dry as she watched the two sleds converge on the habitats of the Banshee. It wasn't that she was afraid of being out here in space— this was her home. She was frightened of facing Crisler's anger.