“Marshroom, you mean.”
“I certainly do not.”
They moved down fast and the glow ripened. The Airbus cable plunged straight into inky nothing.
They passed by the increasingly lush mat. Some phosphoresced in pale blue and ivory. Others seemed to have earlike fans to catch moisture. She had memorized parts of this, the pieces she had caught on video.
“It all seems different,” Marc said. On comm she could hear him breathing steadily and deeply. Heavy work at the end of the day, not recommended…
“No sunlight. The mats do seem brighter.”
“Maybe something’s stirred them up.”
“It’s misting pretty heavily.”
“I was thinking maybe Chen and Gerda.”
Down, as fast as the winches could go.
In the torch beam they found the ledge where they had gone to the left.
“That way led into the large horizontal cavern,” Marc said.
The Airbus cables went to the right. “It looks steeper their way,” she said. The Airbus lines sagged into the turn, not taut, not bearing any weight. “Wonder what that means?”
“The mist is getting heavier,” Marc said.
“There’s a wind.” She watched coils of speckled moisture rise past them.
“Hope this vent isn’t getting set to do something big.”
“Unless the mat is giving off some vapor.”
“Why would it?”
“Transport of water from the interior. The top is always drying out, getting cold.”
“You mean the system has circulation?”
“Outflow, yes. I wonder if the mat somehow regulates it.”
“Could it?”
“Earth’s whole atmosphere and climate is regulated by plants and animals.”
“Sure…” He looked at the luminous mat gliding past as the winches carried them down. They were far enough out to keep the oxy tanks from smacking into the sides, but she knew some damage was inevitable.
No chance for pristine intrusion. I’ll catch hell for this with the Earthside biologists.
At the edge of her vision she sensed something and stopped her winch. “Look, some mat is dead.”
“Yeah. I don’t remember doing anything like that when we came through here.”
“Me either. Turn off your lamps.”
They plunged into blackness.
The glow gradually built up in their eyes. “Right, there’s a lesion on the closest mat,” said Marc.
She swung gently over, peered at it. The oxy tanks above were handy for this, providing a local pivot. “Probably they stopped here and their exhales did this.”
“Pretty big patch.”
“If I’d told him about my descent he could have avoided doing this.”
“Hey, don’t blame yourself. He was calling the shots, remember, making deals.”
“Well, at least we’ll get a look at some new territory.”
They turned their lamps back on and let the winch take them down. She pulled out her microcam and began shooting the mat as they went. The mats were growing ever larger and thicker as they went lower. They covered most of the tube walls now, stacking thickly on every available out-jut, then working up the verticals.
“How far along are we?”
Marc looked at his digital readout from the winch control above. “Three hundred point four meters.”
“Let’s pick up the pace. If—what’s that?”
“Another lesion.” Marc swung over to look: “They must’ve—”
