This place was utterly, maddeningly alien. The persistent absence of anything remotely recognizable to his sensibilities was becoming oppressive, and he found himself fighting an irrational urge to simply run, to make a mad scramble for the surface at any cost.
Three creatures now stood—for lack of a better term, Lamont thought—at the edges of their lamp’s reach, about two yards away. A flutter of complex sounds passed between them, and then one of them began to produce a rhythmic, clock-like ticking. The explorers exchanged glances with each other. By now it was apparent that this sound was an invitation to follow. If they lacked the faculty of sight, as Lamont suspected, it would not occur to them to make a physical gesture.
The creatures turned their speckled shells toward them and began to lead them along a meandering path deeper into the cavernous space. Beyond the beams of Francis and Lamont’s lamps, only glimpses of activity were visible in pale hints of ghostly light that seemed to occur naturally—here in the shimmering surface of a stream of water originating in the nearby waterfall, there in a vertical column of organic substance covering the surface of a column. If Lamont strayed too far to either side, his light would fall over the edge of the path and into a sloped hole or crag, where sometimes he would catch glimpses of creatures engaged in mysterious activities. The great cavern appeared to be divided into spaces that served a variety of purposes, but without any obvious barriers between one space and another. The division of natural and artificial elements was similarly obscure; the newspaperman guessed that the cavern itself was a natural occurrence and that the habitation followed its general outlines. That said, nearly every surface that came into his field of view had an engineered appearance, as if various types of rocks and minerals had been melted or molded into intentional shapes—whether aesthetic, functional, or a combination of the two, he couldn’t hope to guess. In a way, the underground space reminded him of the cavernous interior of Mars, but the similarity was fleeting. Depending on the era from which it originated, Martian architecture might take on a more or less organic appearance, but nevertheless there was a clear distinction between the natural and the artificial. Here, Lamont could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. In Mars, the monumental technology was often so advanced that its function was a mystery, at least without years of study, but it was recognizable as technology. Here, the shapes and forms were utterly inscrutable. He thought back to his first impressions of Mars when he encountered its ancient architectures, to the awe-inspiring sense of being removed by untold eons and worlds of thought from its builders. But that cold distance was nothing compared to the profound sense of disconnection he felt here. This place was utterly, maddeningly alien. The persistent absence of anything remotely recognizable to his sensibilities was becoming oppressive, and he found himself fighting an irrational urge to simply run, to make a mad scramble for the surface at any cost.
Forcing himself from his reverie, he glanced over at Captain Carter, who walked steadily with Rosemary hanging close beside him. The astronaut’s eyes were wide with childlike wonder and, Lamont thought, perhaps even delight. He appeared to be charmed, fascinated, without a hint of fear or trepidation.
Lamont turned his eyes to the smaller figure of Rosemary, curious to see whether the young medic’s disposition was more sympathetic to his or to the captain’s. But she seemed to be paying little attention to where they were, or to where they were going. Her eyes were locked on Francis.
Next: A New Discovery