While the theorists pondered, the practical side of the world took over. The first shaft to Way Down had been drilled in search of scientific data. The second one, ten times as wide, aimed at commercial exploitation. It had an exotic setting, a limited capacity, a good deal of mystery, and always a hint of danger. What more could be asked for a luxury club and secret hideaway for the world’s wealthiest?
The elevator shaft that Rob and Corrie had used was a little way from the main entrance, at the very end of the vaulted chamber. They had to walk a hundred meters across the smooth basalt floor before reaching the official entry point. Above them hung the great central chandeliers, drawing their power from generators on the surface far above. Just before they reached the main reception point, Rob paused and turned again to Corrie.
“I don’t want to make the same mistake twice about what you know,” he said. “You must have a lot more scientific training than you admit to, just to see that connection so fast between the Spider and the Coal Moles. What is your real specialty?”
Corrie grinned at him. “Aw, I’m just a little old go-fer for Regulo, you know that. But I am a licensed engineer — and my graduation project was in large space structures. And I do have engineering on both sides of the family, if you believe in heredity as a major influence. One thing about me, though—”
She stopped in mid-sentence, and the smile on her lips died. Her mouth twisted as she looked past Rob, on into the main reception area of Way Down. “I’m sorry, Rob,” she said. “This is the thing that I was afraid of when you first suggested Way Down, but I didn’t expect it to happen the moment we arrived. Look behind you. There’s the reason I had my doubts about coming here. And now it’s too late to turn back.”
CHAPTER 5: “The Light of Other Days”
In front of them the cavern that was Way Down broadened to its main chamber, five hundred meters across. Smaller side chambers led off from each side, connected to the main area by a series of natural arches and tunnels. The floor was all of smooth basalt, leading in a gentle curve to the low point of Way Down, just beyond the middle of the vast dome. Rob and Corrie stood at the head of the escalator leading to the central dispersal point, from which patrons and guests could make their choices of the casinos, sensory chambers, private booths, and pleasure rooms, or any one of the six renowned restaurants that made Way Down famous throughout the System.
Corrie was standing motionless, her eyes fixed on a small group of people standing by a reception center twenty meters ahead of them. Rob followed her gaze as they moved on down the escalator. There were four people in the party in front of them, two men and two women.
As Rob and Corrie paused at the bottom of the escalator, one man in the group turned and glanced at them casually. Then he looked back again, quickly, and spoke softly to the others. They all turned to face the escalator.
There was a long and awkward pause, during which Rob had time to appraise the members of the other group. The two men were tall and slim, impeccably dressed in colorful and formal dinner wear. Rob formed the instant, negative impression that he was seeing a couple of social escorts, at the same time as he belatedly realized that his own clothes were suited to an environment less socially pretentious than Way Down. He looked at Corrie, recognizing for the first time the fine cut and elegant design of her leisure suit — she had understood the setting far better than he.
One woman in the other party was a tall blonde, with a thin, red-cheeked face and graceful bare arms. Although both the women facing Rob wore iridescent, full-length dresses, the impressions they created were very different. The tall woman’s gown was like a sheath for a fragile and delicate ornament, the other’s like the container for a moving flame.
It was that second woman who drew Rob’s full attention. She was short, no taller than Corrie herself. Instead of the latter’s slim figure, however, she possessed a full and sensuous build, shown off to advantage by the clinging formal gown. Her hair was dark and glossy, framing her small head and taken smoothly back from her brown forehead. Rob saw the delicacy of her cheekbones under a tanned flawless skin, the wide mouth, and the dark irises of her eyes with their clear blue-white surrounding.
It was she who broke the tension between the two groups, as she laughed and said, “Cornelia, my dear. This is certainly not the place that I ever expected to find you. What is it that brings you to sample the pleasures of Way Down?”
Her voice was a surprise, deeper and fuller than Rob expected. She was still smiling, revealing small, even teeth of glittering white. Rob looked instinctively at her temples and the side of her neck. The scars were there, but the job had been superbly done. The marks were scarcely visible, so that with make-up it was hard to tell that a rejuvenation had ever taken place. Rob kept on staring, unable to control his curiosity. The woman seemed to vibrate and pulsate with an unnatural energy and vitality, while her skin appeared to glow beneath the surface. Then he looked at her eyes again, and caught the first hint of something else. The pupil of one seemed to be fractionally bigger than the other. Suspicious, he glanced down at her hands. It was there, the slight characteristic trembling — and there was a fine line of perspiration above the upper lip. Rob felt a sudden twist of pity.
“I’m sorry, Senta.” Corrie’s tone was stiff and uncomfortable as she took the dark-haired woman by the hand. “I knew that you came here regularly, but I thought the chance that we would meet was small. I came here myself by invitation.” She turned to Rob. “I would like to introduce you to a friend” — her voice was husky on the last word — “of mine. Senta, this is Rob.”
“I’m delighted to meet you.” Senta took Rob’s hand in both of hers and inspected him closely, while he stood silent. Her grip was burning hot against his skin. “Very good,” she said at last. “Now let me introduce my friends. This is Howard Anson.”
The taller of the two men nodded politely at Rob, whose hand was still imprisoned in Senta’s. Then, surprisingly, he gave Rob a broad wink and a friendly grin.
“And this is Eiro and Lucetta Perion,” Senta continued.
The other couple stared at Rob in confusion. It was obvious that they knew something that he didn’t, and they were less good than Howard Anson at hiding it or accepting it.
Senta seemed quite unaware of any of their reactions. “He’s not at all your usual space-hero type,” she said to Corrie, finally releasing Rob’s hand. “He’s very nice.” She looked up at him through long, dark lashes. “What did you say that your name was?”
In spite of his knowledge of what she was, Rob could feel a tug of sexual attraction emanating from the woman in front of him. How old was she? Fifty at least, assuming one rejuvenation treatment. Her face and body were those of a twenty-year-old, overlain with the subtle odor of desirability of a mature and knowing woman. It was nature, heightened by another factor. The appearance of those dark eyes and the trembling of the hands were unmistakable. Senta — beautiful, sensual, and obviously wealthy — was a taliza addict.
The drug had been widely tested and used for five years after its discovery. It seemed an ideal tool, the answer to the psychologists’ dreams. A patient could re-live, in complete detail, the previous experiences of life.
Rob had seen taliza at work before. Apply the correct input stimulus, and the return would be instantaneous and total. The patient did not remember the original scene — he re-lived it, as it had happened. Conversations were re-heard, scenes re-visited in memory, old messages played back through the stimulated brain. The patient repeated his exact words, as audio and visual input streams were short-circuited and replaced by recollection.