Cuiller went from tree to tree, always twenty-five meters, and found the same pattern of parallel scars.
Logic said that something 25 meters wide was being dragged through the forest here like a rake. And whatever it was, it swept up leaves, scored the tree trunks, clipped any undergrowth, and scoured the soil bare, compacting it to the consistency of a mud brick.
“Did you bring radios?” he asked Gambiel.
The weapons officer handed him a palm-sized unit Cuiller tuned and spoke into it.
“Hugh?”
“Right here, Jared. I can even see you through the window, sometimes.”
“How’s the knee?”
“Painkillers are kicking in.”
“Can you get up to the deep radar?”
“Not without a climb, but I can work the repeater at the comm.”
“Right. Give us a bearing to the return image, would you?”
“Just a sec… Ten degrees off the port bow, still at a range of two and a half kilometers. And, Captain-it’s above us now.”
“I know. In the treetops, right?”
“Well, the angle is right for it, anyway. But how would “I think we’re going to find that everything interesting on this planet-which Sally has named ‘Beanstalk,’ by the way-is up in the forest canopy.”
“Alright. You’re leaving me with the ship?”
“Can you lift if you have to?”
“So long as you all are clear of the area, I can punch up the main ion engine, have her hot in ninety seconds, and scoot.”
“Do that, if you see anything.”
“What am I going to see, down here?”
“Somebody’s keeping the grounds swept nice and clean. Watch out for whoever it is.”
“Sure thing. Do you explorer types have weapons?” Gambiel overheard that. He turned his right hip toward Cuiller, exposing three hand-fitted variable lasers clipped to his belt. Over that same shoulder he carried a brace of laser rifles, which had a wider aperture and a longer beam pulse.
“We’ve got them.”
“What about food, water, thermal-”
“I’ve got my field test kit,” Krater spoke up. “And we’re all carrying a foodbar or two for snacking. Quit nagging, Mother-Hugh. We’ve only got two klicks of ground to covet”
“Okay. Be back soon.”
“In two shakes,” Cuiller agreed and clicked off.
They headed out, walking easily between the trees on the bearing Jook had given them. After half a kilometer of parklike open space, they came upon their first patch of undergrowth. Green shoots, bushes, and saplings grew up in an uncleared area that was shaped like a pentagon. Cuiller noticed immediately that its points were anchored by five of the mature trees.
“Wait here,” he ordered, and began to wade into the greenery.
“Captain?” Gambiel called. When Cuiller turned, the Jinxian checked the charge on a hand weapon and tossed it to him.
Cuiller accepted it with a nod.
He pushed his way into the secondary growth, bending stalks and branches aside and wishing they had brought along a few simpler weapons, like machetes. Twenty-five paces in from the nearest tree, he found what he’d been expecting: a broken stump two meters wide and a fallen section of trunk. He looked straight up, hoping to find a patch of sky. The green vault was thinner here, perhaps lighter in color, but still unbroken. Most of the saplings around him, he noticed, had tough, straight boles with flat, branching crowns.
He thumbed the radio and spoke into it. “Hugh, watch out for the groundskeepers. They’re definitely intelligent.”
“How do you figure that?” Krater cut in, having caught him on the same channel.
Cuiller described what he saw. “Whoever it is that’s dragging the forest floor also knows enough to let a downed tree replace itself,” he concluded. “Otherwise the canopy would thin out and fall within a generation or two. This forest is being managed, and that smacks of intelligence to me.”
“You’re leaping ahead of yourself;” she said, putting on her professional xenobiologist’s hat. “A lot of natural phenomena could explain what you’ve got there.”
“Well-” Cuiller was unsure of his ground.
“I like Jared’s interpretation,” Gambiel said. “Anyway, let’s be prepared. Err on the side of intelligence.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jook put in, from the ship. “I’ll watch for them.”
“All right,” from Krater. “Have it your way. But don’t be disappointed if it’s a pack of grazing animals with picky appetites, some kind of stream flow, a toxic groundwort, or something.”
“We can deal with those,” Gambiel said.
“I’m coming out,” Cuiller told them, turning around in the patch of groundcover.
“Let’s start considering options,” the commander said when he was back on the swept floor with the others. He pointed at the spider rigs on the Jinxian’s shoulder. “How do these things work?”
Gambiel unslung them, laid two on the ground, and spread one in his flat hands.
“This is an adjustable five-point harness. Over the shoulders, around the waist, between the legs. The takeup reel with motor winder clips on here.” He thunked himself in the chest, just below the sternum. “The hand unit -“ He picked up a gun-shaped object. “launches the grapple with a gas charge that vents backward to stabilize your reaction. That’s because this rig was designed for freefall, remember,”
Cuiller picked up the grapple. It had a point and three spring-loaded tines-all sharpened. “We’d use a thing like this around vacuum gear?”
“The original head has a suction pad and magnets. This is a terrestrial modification.”
“Right.”
“What about drag from the trailing line?” Krater asked.
“For one thing, it’s all monofilament. Weighs about three grams to the kilometer. But you got to watch out put it under tension and it’ll take your fingers off. Handle the line only with the winder, or with steel-mesh gloves.
“The other thing is, the line goes with the grapple, paying out from a cassette.” Gambiel showed them, taking one from his pocket. He fitted and locked the spindle-shaped cassette into the base of the grapple, drew out a meter or so of the nearly invisible line from its end, and clicked the grapple into the gas gun. “Attach the free end to a spare reel on your winder.” He took that from another pocket. “Fire the gun-” He pantomimed shooting up into the trees. “- and when the hooks are anchored, jerk it once to set a friction brake on the cassette. Then reel in and up you go.”
“What happens when all your line is wound in on the takeup reel?” Cuiller asked.
“You retrieve the grapple, discard both the old reel and cassette, fit new ones, take aim and fire again.” Gambiel shrugged.
“How much line in one setup?”
“Ten kilometers.”
“Okay. Simple enough. Let’s get into those harnesses now.”
“Why?” Krater asked, her eyebrows coming together. “Evasive action,” Cuiller answered. “If we meet anything down on the ground here, we may not be able to outrun it. Or outfight it. Our best course might be to disappear. Up into the treetops.”
The Jinxian nodded. “When you shoot, try to put the grapple as close to a main trunk as you can. Thicker branches there- more likely to hold your weight.”
“But the canopy held our whole ship pretty well,” Krater observed. “For a while.”
“True,” Gambiel said. “So, suit yourself.”
Cuiller stepped into the harness, found the adjustment points, and pulled them snug. He fitted the winder motor to his chest, figured out the simple lever controls for its reversible gearing, and clipped the first empty reel onto it. He put a cassette in the grapple, fed out a meter of the silk-like line, and found a loop at the harness belt’s left side to hold the grapple. The gun fitted into a flat holster on the right. The three of them divided up their supply of gas cartridges, cassettes, and reels.
“What happens when these run out?” Krater demanded, counting her share with her fingers.
“We won’t be here that long,” the commander said. He looked to Gambiel. “We still walking that way?” Cuiller pointed the direction, angling his hand around one side of the pentangle of underbrush.
The Jinxian paused, considered some inner sense, and nodded.