Two steps per second was half a million seconds of travel time. Eight three three three point three, etc., minutes, 138 hours, or nearly six days. Double that to include rest periods and sleep, at a conservative estimate ...
"I know what you're thinking," Gaby said, from behind her. "But can we do it in the dark?"
She had hit on the important point. The food could last two weeks. The water might be enough with rationing, but not for coming down.
But the crucial consumable at this stage was lamp fuel. They had no more than a five-hour supply, and no way to get more.
She was still working on it, trying to construct a mathematics that would get them to the top, when they emerged on the floor of the spoke.
Nothing had ever made Cirocco feel smaller. Not O'Neil One, not the stars in space, not the floor of Gaea herself. She could see everything, and her sense of perspective failed utterly.
It was impossible to detect the curvature of the walls. Like an upended horizon, they stretched away from her until suddenly they began to wrap around, making the space look more semi- circular than round.
Everything was bathed in a pale green luminescence. The source of the light was four vertical rows of windows which sent beams slanting down to cross each other in the empty center.
Not quite empty. Running straight as a ruler through the central space Were three vertical cables wound together like a braid, and drifting in and out of the light beams were odd, cylindrical clouds that twisted slowly as they watched.
Cirocco recalled thinking of the dark, narrow spaces beneath the cable they had explored as a cathedral. Gaea had exhausted her store of superlatives, but she knew that had only been an abandoned chapel. This was the cathedral.
"I thought I'd seen it all by now," Gaby said, quietly, pointing up at the wall behind them. "But a vertical jungle?"
There was no other way to describe it. Clinging to the walls, reaching outward or branching up, the inside of the spoke was crusted with more of the ubiquitous trees. They dwindled, becoming at some indeterminate distance just a smooth carpet of green. Beyond that was a gray roof.
"Would you say that's 300 kilometers up?"
Gaby squinted, then made a grid with her fingers and calculated with some system of her own.
"It covers the right number of degrees."
"Sit. Let's think on this."
She needed to sit more than she needed to think. Until this moment she had actually thought she could make it. She now saw that delusion had been fostered by an inability to visualize the problem. She could look at it now and she quailed inside. Three hundred kilometers, straight up.
Straight. Up.
She must have been insane.
"First. Does it look like there's any way through that roof?" Gaby looked, and shrugged.
"Means nothing. There was a way through this, wasn't there? Weld never see it from here."
"Right. But we hoped there would be a ladder to the top. Do you see one?"
"No."
"Right again. I thought those stairs meant a way had been pro- vided to walk to the top, if necessary. Now I think it's likely that a walk to right here, this spot, was all the builders had in mind." "Maybe.' Gabys eyes had narrowed. "But they must have left
way to get to the hub. Probably these trees weren't meant to be ere. They've overgrown everything, like they did on the cable." "In which case..." What?
"We have a hell of a climb ahead," Gaby finished for her.
"Right for the third time. I'm just trying to reason it out, you see. It had entered my mind that if-say four or five years from now-if we get to the top and find there isn't a stairway... we've got another long climb. Down."
Gaby laughed this time.
"If you're saying let's turn back, I wish you'd come out with it. I won't freeze you with contempt."
"Let's turn back?" She hadn't meant the question mark, but there it was.
"Ah. I see." She did not mind. They had long forgotten the relationship of Captain and crew. She laughed, and shook her head. "All right. What's your plan?"
"First look around. Later-four or five years from now-we'd look pretty foolish if me of the builders asked why we didn't use the elevator."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was roughly 250 kilometers around the base of the spoke. They began to circumnavigate it, looking for anything from a rope ladder to an anti-gravity helicopter. What they found was horizontal trees, growing in the vertical forest.
When they penetrated the outer branches and followed the trunks to their roots in the wall, they had to climb a gradual slope made of fallen branches and rotting leaves. The real sub- stance of the spoke was a spongy gray material. It yielded like soft rubber when they pressed it. When Cirocco pulled a bush from the wall, a long taproot came out with it. The wall bled a thick, milky fluid, then closed around the small hole.
There was no soil, and very little sun; bright as it had seemed when they came out of the dark staircase, the real light level was quite low. Cirocco assumed that, like many of the plants on the rim, these depended m sub-surface sources for life.
The wall itself was moist and supported growths of moss and lichen, but few intermediate-sized plants. There were no grasses, and what vines existed were parasitic, rooting in the tree trunks. Many of the trees were the same species they had seen on the rim, adapted for a horizontal existence. There were familiar fruits and nuts growing on them.
"That takes care of the food problem," Gaby said.
There could be no rivers in the spoke, but the wall glistened with tiny trickles. High above, sports could be seen, arching out and turning to mist long before they reached the floor.
Gaby looked up at them, noting that they seemed evenly distributed, like lawn sprinklers.
"So much for dying of thirst."
It began to seem that the climb would not actually be impossible. Cirocco found it hard to be elated about it.
Excluding the possibility of a staircase-which she quickly concluded they would not find, since the trees prevented a close exploration of the wall-there were two ways to the top.
One involved climbing the trees themselves. it should be possible, Cirocco reckoned, to go from branch to branch out where spreading had meshed the branches of one tree with those of its neighbors.
The other possibility was a straightforward job of mountaineering. They found that their metal spikes could be driven into the wall surface simply by holding them and jabbing.
Cirocco favored the wall, not wanting to trust the trees. Gaby liked the branches, which would be quicker. They debated it until the second day, when two things happened.
Gaby noticed the first thing while looking ~ over the gray floor of the spoke. Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed.
"I think that hole's not there anymore," she said. Cirocco squinted, but could not be sure. "Let's climb up and take a look."
They roped themselves together and began ascending through the branches.
It was not as bad as Cirocco had feared. Like anything else, there was an optimum way to go about it, and they quickly discovered what it was. There was a line to pick between the thicker branches closer to the wall-which were rock solid, but tended to be too far apart-and the thinner, more willowy ones farther out, which provided a thousand places for hands and feet but sagged under their weight. .
"A little farther in," Cirocco called ahead to Gaby, who had taken the job of scouting the path at the end of a five-meter tether. "I'd say about two-thirds of the way to the top of the tree is about right."
"In, top," Gaby said. "You're mi2dng your directions."
"The bottoms of the trees are in close to the wall. The tops are out in the air. What could be simpler?"