"One of our types finds these waters comfortable," Salamander said. "An individual would enjoy seeing you. Is this okay with you?"
"Acceptable," Eye on Sky said.
Seconds later, a bright red nightmare of jointed arms pushed through the water and heaved part of itself onto the ferry. Paola gave a little squeak and backed close to Martin. The Brothers seemed frozen in place, making no comments, weathering this surfeit of experience.
The nightmare's arms parted with a motion combining the curl of a squid's tentacles and the up-and-down pistoning of a spider's legs. A remarkable "face" appeared, four glittering egg-shaped eyes in a mass of glossy black flesh, surrounded by alternating fleshy rings of yellow and gray.
"This type serves a capacity like a farmer in these seas, but makes many decisions in our political framework," Salamander explained. "Its kind denies the value of artificial enhancements. Like you, it eats, and is very strict about what it eats, and when, and how. Perhaps in the future you may hold discussions. You may share sympathies."
"Sure," Martin said dubiously. He very much wanted it to go away.
The simple expansiveness of sea and sky bothered him more than he could have imagined. He was so used to the confines of the ships, enclosed universes…
To his relief, the creature pushed away from the raft and vanished into the waves.
"It had at least thirty arms," Paola said. "I couldn't count them all!"
Another voice spoke in his ear: Erin Eire on Double Seed. "How's the trip, Martin?"
He stuttered for a moment, surprised by the communication. "We're healthy," he said. "It's bigdown here. Wide open spaces."
"Sounds lovely," Erin said. "You look a little tied up in those suits. We're all watching here—both crews. The transmissions are clear. We're overhead now. Look up and you might see us."
Martin looked up but saw nothing in the muddy blackness. "No visual," he said.
"Too bad. Don't feel lonely."
Salamander's voice returned. "We will pass around this promontory."
Waves slid up against jagged blocks of crust with tremendous force but little spray, rivulets of water fleeing quickly back to the ocean. The ferry came within a hundred meters of the turmoil, and passed around a high point of black and brown rock rising like a squat tower.
Beyond the promontory, at the far side of a deep harbor, three rocky tunnel mouths opened, each about fifty meters high and perhaps forty wide. Square tongues of polished gray stone pushed out of the tunnels into the harbor.
Even from a few kilometers, Martin heard the deep breath of the tunnels, felt the airborne shudder of water rushing in, pushing out.
The ferry crossed the harbor quickly and the tunnels loomed, making sounds such as Odysseus might have heard approaching Scylla and Charybdis. The light of Leviathan fell behind the headland now, and murky shadow surrounded them, broken by the white luminosity of their ferry. Ariel's face appeared ghostly, shadows of cheeks, chin, and nose rising across her eyes.
"Are we going in there?" Paola asked.
"Yes," Salamander answered. "We will dock at the second tunnel from your left. Transportation will arrive soon. Within the station, there are type individuals of some of the beings occupying our system. They will speak with you."
"Martin," Paola said, "I think the Brothers are having problems."
Martin looked at Eye on Sky and Silken Parts, both shivering within their suits. Strong Cord seemed fine, sliding beside his companions with solicitous sounds, squirks and clatters. "What's wrong?" Martin asked.
"This is what is seen when disassembled," Eye on Sky said, voice harsh and uneven. "This is the cave of youth on the shore, where young come together as braids after cords fight."
"Paola, what do you know about this?"
"Something about adulthood rituals… Nothing in their literature that I've found. Maybe it's deep memory."
"It is intimate," Strong Cord said. "Difficulty buried in minds of cords. I we are disturbed, but we we more disturbed."
"Salamander, some of us are having problems," Martin said.
"How may we help?" Salamander's voice asked.
"Can you block off the view, cover us?" Martin asked. A white canopy rose from the disk like a pleated piece of paper and unfolded over them, blocking the sky but not the view ahead.
Eye on Sky's trembling stopped. Silken Parts continued to shiver for a few more seconds, then writhed spasmodically and became still, again in control.
What else can go wrong? Martin faced the immense tunnel openings without the Brothers' deep-seated concerns, but also without any enthusiasm. This entire journey seemed calculated to overawe, and despite Eye on Sky's agreement to this journey, that said nothing good about their hosts. Rather than manufacture comfortable surroundings, they seemed to want to test their guests—
Test. Gather information about reactions to strenuous conditions. The Killers had done that on Earth with even less mercy.
The disk bumped gently against the edge of the dock. A ramp smoothed out to join with the disk.
"You may walk by yourselves," Salamander's voice informed them. Eye on Sky went first, skeletal white suit rippling. Paola followed, then Martin, and finally all stood on the hard dark gray surface.
The disk sank beneath the fast thick waves. No way back— is that the meaning? Is there any meaning, or just insensitivity to aliens whose psychology they know nothing about?
The tunnel's ceiling hung over them like the edge of a black void. The floor beneath advanced into shadow.
Silken Part's dark cords became part of the obscurity beyond; his suit seemed to stand by itself, moving like a cartoon spook. Ariel stepped closer. "I think we should get back to the ship in a couple of hours," she said to Martin.
A tiny simulacrum of a bishop vulture—Frog or Salamander—appeared in the tunnel, perfect in every detail. Martin adjusted his focus to learn whether the image was floating deep back in the tunnel, or nearby, and found it was only a meter from his face, a few centimeters in size. Surprised, Ariel dodged the simulacrum as if it were an insect. She straightened in her suit with a pained expression.
"Salamander, we need to be back in our ship within two hours," Martin said. The simulacrum grew larger, like an object seen in a zoom lens. Martin heard Salamander's voice from that direction.
"The meetings will last only twenty minutes this first time," it said. "You will be returned to your ship after that, and other meetings will be planned."
A bright red circle appeared deep in the tunnel. "Please move toward the circle. You will see," Salamander assured them.
The three Brothers slithered ahead, apparently recovered from their initial difficulties.
At first, Martin could see nothing beyond their immediate surround. The six of them—and Salamander's floating image—were clearly visible. As his eyes grew accustomed, he made out more and more, seeing first an uncertain wave-like motion on the distant walls, then shades and details.
The walls churned. Blocky shapes crawled up in lines like geometric slugs, deflected by obstacles that extruded into their paths. Near the edge of the floor, splashing, sucking sounds told him that water flowed either in hidden gutters or through deep channels beneath.
"What is it?" Paola asked. Martin had no answer. The red circle grew. Spots of dim green and blue light appeared on the walls, moving with the blocky shapes but not issuing from them.