Nothing happened.
Back in the lab, Stone watched him through the glass. Hall saw his lips move, but heard nothing; then a moment later the speakers cut in and he heard Stone say, "-- best that we could devise."
"What was?"
"The defense system."
"Thanks very much," Hall said, moving toward the rubber gasket. It was circular and rather small, leading into the central core.
"There's only one chance," Stone. said. "The doses are low. They're calculated for a ten-kilogram animal, like a large monkey, and you weigh seventy kilograms or so. You can stand a fairly heavy dose before--"
"Before I stop breathing," Hall said. The victims of curare suffocate to death, their chest muscles and diaphragms paralyzed. Hall was certain it was an unpleasant way to die.
"Wish me luck," he said.
"There are now two minutes thirty seconds to self-destruct," Gladys Stevens said.
Hall slammed the gasket with his fist, and it crumbled in a dusty cloud. He moved out into the central core.
***
It was silent. He was away from the sirens and flashing lights of the level, and into a cold, metallic, echoing space. The central core was perhaps thirty feet wide, painted a utilitarian gray; the core itself, a cylindrical shaft of cables and machinery, lay before him. On the walls he could see the rungs of a ladder leading upward to Level IV.
"I have you on the TV monitor, " Stone's voice said. "Start up the ladder. The gas will begin any moment."
A new recorded voice broke in. "The central core has been contaminated," it said. "Authorized maintenance personnel are advised to clear the area immediately."
"Go!" Stone said.
Hall climbed. As he went up the circular wall, he looked back and saw pale clouds of white smoke blanketing the floor.
"That's the gas," Stone said. "Keep going."
Hall climbed quickly, hand over hand, moving up the rungs. He was breathing hard, partly from the exertion, partly from emotion.
"The sensors have you," Stone said. His voice was dull.
Stone was sitting in the Level V laboratory, watching on the consoles as the computer electric eyes picked up Hall and outlined his body moving up the wall. To Stone he seemed painfully vulnerable. Stone glanced over at a third screen, which showed the ligamine ejectors pivoting on their wall brackets, the slim barrels coming around to take aim.
"Go!"
On the screen, Hall's body was outlined in red on a vivid green background. As Stone watched, a crosshair was superimposed over the body, centering on the neck. The computer was programmed to choose a region of high blood flow; for most animals, the neck was better than the back.
Hall, climbing up the core wall, was aware only of the distance and his fatigue. He felt strangely and totally exhausted, as if he had been climbing for hours. Then he realized that the gas was beginning to affect him.
"The sensors have picked you up," Stone said. "But you have only ten more yards."
Hall glanced back and saw one of the sensor units. It was aimed directly at him. As he watched, it fired, a small puff of bluish smoke spurting from the barrel. There was a whistling sound, and then something struck the wall next to him, and fell to the ground.
"Missed that time. Keep going."
Another dart slammed into the wall near his neck. He tried to hurry, tried to move faster. Above, he could see the door with the plain white markings LEVEL IV. Stone was right; less than ten yards to go.
A third dart, and then a fourth. He still was untouched. For an ironic moment he felt irritation: the damned computers weren't worth anything, they couldn't even hit a simple target...
The next dart caught him in the shoulder, stinging as it entered his flesh, and then there was a second wave of burning pain as the liquid was injected. Hall swore.
Stone watched it all on the monitor. The screen blandly recorded STRIKE and then proceeded to rerun a tape of the sequence, showing the dart moving through the air, and hitting Hall's shoulder. It showed it three times in succession.
The voice said, "There are now two minutes to self-destruct.
"It's a low dose," Stone said to Hall. "Keep going."
Hall continued to climb. He felt sluggish, like a four-hundred pound man, but he continued to climb. He reached the next door just as a dart slammed into the wall near his cheekbone.
"Nasty."
"Go! Go!"
The door had a seal and handle. He tugged at the handle while still another dart struck the wall.
"That's it, that's it, you're going to make it," Stone said.
"There are now ninety seconds to self-destruct," the voice said.
The handle spun. With a hiss of air the door came open. He moved into an inner chamber just as a dart struck his leg with a brief, searing wave of heat. And suddenly, instantly, he was a thousand pounds heavier. He moved in slow motion as he reached for the door and pulled it shut behind him.
"You're in an airlock," Stone said. "Turn the next door handle."
Hall moved toward the inner door. It was several miles away, an infinite trip, a distance beyond hope. His feet were encased in lead; his legs were granite. He felt sleepy and achingly tired as he took one step, and then another, and another.
"There are now sixty seconds to self-destruct."
Time was passing swiftly. He could not understand it; everything was so fast, and he was so slow.
The handle. He closed his fingers around it, as if in a dream. He turned the handle.
"Fight the drug. You can do it," Stone said.
What happened next was difficult to recall. He saw the handle turn, and the door open; he was dimly aware of a girl, a technician, standing in the hallway as he staggered through.