Hutch, watching through the imagers they had clipped to their harnesses, broke in on a private channel: “Matt, you’re going to use the cable to get down there, right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I can imagine either Rudy or Antonio climbing back out on a cable.”

“Trust me, Hutch. We’ll be fine.” His tone must have carried a hint of annoyance because she said nothing more.

He cut a second hole in the roof, about a meter away. This one was only an inch or two wide. He looped the cable through both holes, and dropped the ends into the building. Then he looked up at Rudy and Antonio. “Wait,” he said.

He lowered himself through the hole, let go, and landed on a frozen surface. His feet went out from under him, and he fell with a crash.

He got the predictable cries from everyone. Was he okay? What happened? You sure you’re all right, Matt?

“I’m fine,” he said. He was picking himself up from an icy carpet, flashing his wrist lamp around the room, across shelves, wooden boxes, and cabinet doors. He saw tools, fabrics that had long since rotted away, dishware that was cracked and broken from the cold. A variety of knives. Pots and cabinets and frozen paper pads. Everything was made a size or two larger than would have been comfortable for him. And it was all buried under a thick layer of dust.

“Hey!” Rudy’s voice. “What are you doing down there?”

“Okay, guys. Just a second.” He went back to where the cable dangled from the holes in the roof, and held one line while Rudy climbed down the other. He dropped onto the floor and got awkwardly to his feet, smiling the whole time, the way people do when they’re trying to look casual and relaxed.

And, finally, Antonio.

While the others poked around the storage area, Matt found an open door and looked into the next room. He saw two chairs, a cabinet, a table, another stove, several doors. Lots of ice and snow on the floor where windows had broken. One door opened onto a corridor. Another was frozen shut. Several unidentifiable objects lay on the floor.

He stepped out into the corridor. “Hutch,” he said, “are you reading this?”

No response.

The cabinet was secured to the wall, or possibly had become a permanent part of it. He put his lamp down and went back to the cables. “Hutch,” he said, “do you copy?”

Hutch’s voice broke through: “Lost you for a minute, Matt.”

“The signal doesn’t penetrate.”

“That’s not good.”

“I’ll call you when we’re clear.”

HE TRIED TO open the cabinet, but nothing had any give. There were curtains in the room, stiff as boards and in places inseparable from the ice and the walls.

The mantel and the doorframes were all ornately carved. Everything, the furniture, the windows, the doors, was heavy. The place had a Gothic feel to it.

The corridor was lined with doors. Some had been left open, revealing spaces that looked as if they’d once been living quarters. Two were filled with snow.

Antonio and Rudy came out behind him. Antonio was talking about the furniture, how everything was on a slightly larger scale. As it had been on the station. “What do you think these things looked like?” he asked.

“Obviously they were bipeds,” said Rudy, adopting his professorial tone. “That means they had to have chairs.” He shook his head. “I wonder what they talked about.”

They looked into the open rooms and saw little other than frozen debris. In some, beams had collapsed and ceilings given way.

At the end of the corridor, a stairway descended deeper into the building.

They paused at the top and looked down into another corridor. Matt tried the first step. It was long, and slippery, but the stair felt solid.

The next step down was almost half again the height to which he was accustomed. Taller creatures, longer legs, longer feet. It was tricky going. There was a handrail, a bit higher than was comfortable. But he put it to use and kept going.

Some ice had gotten onto the stairs, making them still more dangerous. They crunched and cracked under his weight, so he directed the others to wait until he got to the bottom. Then they followed. They all had trouble negotiating the ice, but everybody made it down in good order.

More doors. And another staircase, continuing down into a large room. A lobby, he thought, or maybe a meeting room or dining area. He could see tables and chairs. He was about halfway down when he heard a noise.

The others heard it, too. Above them.

Everyone froze.

It had been barely discernible, but there had been something. Like a branch falling somewhere.

“Wind,” said Rudy.

It had sounded inside the building.

They listened to the silence, sweeping their lamps across the walls and along the passageways and up and down the staircases.

Antonio finally started breathing again. “The place is oppressive,” he said.

Whatever it had been, it was gone. They went the rest of the way down the lower stairway, this time together, Matt leading the way, Antonio at the rear.

It had been a dining room at one time. Several of the tables had been set with plates, cups, and knives. No spoons or forks. The dinnerware was cracked and broken.

“The place is not that old,” said Rudy. “Not like the space station.”

“How much you think?” asked Antonio.

“I don’t know. Frozen the way it is, I just don’t know.”

One wall had a fireplace.

Antonio began wandering around, talking to himself, wondering aloud how to capture the mood of the place. How to make people feel the claustrophobia.

Matt went through a large open doorway. The adjoining space, which might have been the area inside the front doors, was half-filled with snow. A set of windows had given way.

At the edge of the snow, and partially engulfed in it, was a cluster of carved wooden chairs arranged around a central table. Two of the chairs had collapsed. The furniture showed decent workmanship and had padding that still looked soft but was, of course, rock hard. Two rectangular blocks lay on the tabletop. And a pitcher.

He gazed at the blocks. Saw symbols on them.

Books.

They were books.

Both were bound in black, and both were frozen to the surface.

He wiped the dust from them and saw more symbols on the spines. He called Rudy over.

“Beautiful,” Rudy said. “We have to take these back with us.” When Matt demonstrated that they were frozen in place, he frowned. “Careful. Don’t damage them.”

Matt used the laser to remove the legs from the table, then to cut around each book, reducing the tabletop to two manageable pieces. He handed one to Rudy and took the other himself.

“How advanced you think these people were?” asked Antonio.

“They had the printing press,” said Rudy.

“Ah, yes.” Matt looked down at his own ghostly hand. “The printing press again.”

Rudy pointed at some wiring hanging down from the ceiling. “Looks as if they had electricity, too.”

Antonio touched one of the books. Reverently. “You were right, Rudy. This was a resort hotel. The tower was a ski lift.”

Matt backed out of the room. Despite the e-suit, he was beginning to feel cold. “If we scan under the snow,” he said, “we’ll probably find a couple more towers upslope.”

“I don’t believe it.” Antonio was shaking his head. “What kind of alien uses a ski resort?”

“The Noks like skiing,” said Rudy. “And on Quraqua—”

Matt heard another noise. Above them.

They all heard it. A whisper. A sound like a wet sack being dragged across a floor.

Antonio raised both hands, palms wide, behind his ears. “Something’s up there.”