t of a machine with
the unmistakable outline of a snub-nosed rocket. The small flyer--or a
jet, or whatever it was--had been fitted into a pocket in the side of
the big structure as a ship into a berth, and it must have been set
there to shoot from that enclosing chamber as a bullet is shot from a
rifle barrel. But why?

Ross's imagination jumped from fact to theory. The torpedo craft could
be an atomic jet. All right, he had been in bad shape when he fell into
it by chance and the bed machine had caught him as if it had been
created for just such a duty. What kind of a small plane would be
equipped with a restorative apparatus? Only one intended to handle
emergencies, to transport badly injured living things who had to leave
the building in a hurry.

In other words, a lifeboat!

But why would a building need a lifeboat? That would be rather standard
equipment for a ship. Ross stepped into the corridor and stared about
him with open and incredulous wonder. Could this be some form of ship,
grounded here, deserted and derelict, and now being plundered by the
Reds? The facts fitted! They fitted so well with all he had been able to
discover that Ross was sure it was true. But he determined to prove it
beyond all doubt.

He closed the door leading to the lifeboat berth, but not so securely
that he could not open it again. That was too good a hiding place. On
his cushioned feet he padded back to the stairway, and he stood there
listening. Far below were sounds, a rasp of metal against metal, a low
murmur of muted voices. But from above there was nothing, so he would
explore above before he ventured into that other danger zone.

Ross climbed, passing two more levels, to come out into a vast room with
a curving roof which must fill the whole crown of the globe. Here was
such a wealth of machines, controls, things he could not understand that
he stood bewildered, content for the moment merely to look. There
were--he counted slowly--five control boards like those he had seen in
the small escape ship. Each of these was faced by two or three of the
bucket-seats, only these swung in webbing. He put his hand on one, and
it bobbed elastically.

The control boards were so complicated that the one in the lifeboat
might have been a child's toy in comparison. The air in the ship had
been good; in the lifeboat it had held the pleasant odor of the jelly;
but here Ross sniffed a faint but persistent hint of corruption, of an
old malo