“Yes, said S’glya.
“Yes,” echoed Ishmael.
“Never do tomorrow,” said the Angel, “what can be done today.”
The deep shafts noted during the first orbital survey were far more than simple gaps in Travancore’s vegetative cover. Closer inspection revealed a true tunnel, with well-defined and continuous walls of ribbed leaves plaited into tight hoops. “Artificial,” said S’glya, running a sensitive antenna lightly over the surface. “Nature does not braid so. The sign of intelligence?”
“Not necessarily. We have insects on Earth that build systems far more complex than this, and they are not intelligent.”
“In your terms,” said Ishmael. “Which others suspect.” But the Tinker was making a feeble attempt at a joke, and Leah was pleased to hear it. Morale was recovering.
Overflow tubes set into the tunnel walls every twenty meters or so would be enough to carry off heavy rain. They were very necessary. Lean had expected near-vertical tunnels, mine shafts plunging straight down to Travancore’s solid surface. Instead the openings were more like spiral roadways, curving down at a constant and moderate angle. It was possible to walk along the shallow gradient without supporting lines. At these angles, a rain storm would impose a massive load on the tunnel’s curving floor.
Leah took a last look round before she led the way deeper into the tunnel. With Travancore’s thirty-seven hour day they would have ten more hours of light. But how much use would that be, as soon as they were a couple of hundred meters down?
Ishmael followed close behind. The Tinker was very nervous, with clouds of components constantly leaving and returning to the main body. Leah had given up long ago on the question of how Ishmael preserved any continuity of thought — if it didn’t worry the Tinker, she wasn’t going to let it worry her.
The Pipe-Rilla came last. S’glya had the Angel tucked easily under her midlimbs. She sang softly to herself, until Leah asked her to be quiet. They did not, she reminded all of them, want to attract attention — no matter what was on Travancore to be attracted. The Construct might not be the only danger.
The light slowly faded. At two hundred meters they were moving through a green twilight, floating alone in light gravity as though underwater. A rare upward kink in the tunnel, followed by a more steeply plunging section, took them through a curtain of pulpy leaves. The light level dropped abruptly. The temperature was noticeably higher. By the time they were down three hundred meters they were shrouded in an intense emerald gloom.
Leah stopped and turned to the others. “I can’t see a thing, but I don’t want to use my light. S’glya, you take over the lead. Carry Angel with you. Angel, I want you to use a thermal band and see what you can find out about the path ahead.”
They were still changing places when there was an urgent whistle from Ishmael. “Something ahead! Something moving.”
Leah turned, in time to see a pearly-white glow in the tunnel. As she watched it slid beyond the turn of the spiral wall. A dozen Tinker components disconnected and flew away along the shaft. A minute later they returned, one by one, and rejoined the main body.
“Native form,” said Ishmael after a few seconds. “And large. Over ten meters long, snakelike, no arms or legs. Bioluminescent. The glow comes from a row of lights along each side of it. And it seems afraid of us, because it went wriggling away at a good speed. We followed it as far as a Branch point, about three hundred meters down the shaft.”
“Is it safe to go on?” asked S’glya. They all looked again at Leah.
“I don’t know.” She stared into the gloom ahead, and saw nothing. “If we turn back every time we find evidence of a native life form, we may never get anywhere. So I say we keep going. S’glya, would you lead the way again?’
They continued a cautious descent. Soon they were moving in total darkness. It must be full day above them, but every trace of sunlight from Talitha was blocked by the multiple screens of leaves and stems. At Leah’s request, S’glya shone a faint pencil beam now and again to allow them to see the tunnel for a few paces in front of them. The Angel’s thermal sensor could see far beyond that. It reported that the curving tunnel was clear, as far ahead as fine-of-sight vision could go.
The temperature had stabilized at a level that Leah found just bearable and S’glya relished. The team went on in silence, winding deeper and deeper. The air was denser and more humid, and Leah could smell a faint, pleasant aroma like new-cut Earth flowers. It made her nostalgic for the Gallimaufries and Bozzie’s floral obsession. The tunnel at these depths was less well-maintained, with ragged gaps here and there in its sides and roof. When they came close to one of the bigger holes they heard a soft, rustling sound like wind-blown dry leaves. S’glya reached out to send a more powerful flash of light into the opening. It lit the surroundings as briefly and brightly as lightning. Less than five meters from the tunnel wall Leah saw a small four-legged creature clinging to a thick branch. As the light hit there was a brief quacking sound of alarm.
S’glya pulsed the beam again. The creature turned to face them. Leah had a glimpse of a brown, eyeless head, split by a broad mouth. A second and narrower slit ran all the way across from temple to temple. There was another sound, a high-pitched squeak of fear or complaint, then the animal was scurrying agilely away around the side of the shaft.
“Intelligent?” said Leah.
“According to survey data,” replied Angel, “there are no native intelligent life forms on Travancore.”
“How could a survey know that, without going down to the surface? And none of them did.”
“We were merely reporting what is stated. Ours not to reason why. In any case, intelligence is too subtle an attribute to be inferred from appearance.”
While Angel was speaking, S’glya had switched to a steady illumination and moved the beam slowly around the region just outside the tunnel.
Lean saw the great boles of trees, each one many meters across. The trunks were dark tan and deep purple now, rather than the bright yellow of the upper leaves. From them grew thousands of wilting finger-like excrescences, black and crimson and vivid orange. Legless slug-like creatures on each extrusion inched slowly away from S’glya’s light. As they moved they left faintly glowing trails on the tree fingers.
At this depth, greens and yellows had gone from the vegetation. Photosynthesis was impossible. Everything must depend for its existence on the slow fall of upper-level detritus or the transfer of nutrients up and down the massive trunks. Leah wondered about a pumping system that could lift fluids for five kilometers, even in this weak gravity.
The group went on, always downward. In another hour the pleasant floral scent was replaced by a nauseating stench of fleshy decay. Everything became coated with a misted layer of condensation, and dark, slimy droplets hung from the ribbed roof of the tunnel. Leah felt as though they had been descending for days when finally Angel waved its topmost fronds and poked Ishmael in the side. “We must stop here. Put me down. The tunnel ends in thirty paces.”
Leah came to stand by the Pipe-Rilla. “How does it end?”
“It simply terminates. However, we are less than forty meters above the true surface of Travancore. My microwave sensors tell me that there is solid material beneath us, but descent past this point will be difficult for all except Ishmael’s components. We face a sheer drop, or we must climb down a vertical trunk.”
“Would we be able to move over the surface itself, if once we were there?”
“That should present no difficulty.” Angel paused. “Descent can be made with the aid of a simple rope. But return would present problems, at least for human and Angel forms.”