“I, on the other hand, studied such matters extensively while at the Academy. Once on-site I am sure we can resolve this question appropriately. Perhaps there is something of interest in the hills after all.”

“I have been trying to tell you,” Iranaputra said urgently. “The buildings down there, the architecture is …”

“It’s settled, then.” Follingston-Heath pushed away from the table and rose. “This will be fun. I take it upon myself to see to the necessary supplies.” He smiled at Shimoda. “Including the requisite midday repast.” The Colonel delighted in planning strategy and tactics, even if only for a picnic.

“If anyone asks, they should be so nosy, we’ll just tell them that we’re going for an extended walk around the lake.” Gelmann was anticipating the forthcoming excursion.

“We’ll need some rope,” Hawkins grumbled. “To haul Vic’s butt out if there really is some kind of ditch or hole.”

“I will take care of everything.” Hands clasped behind him, Follingston-Heath turned to gaze out across the lake. “Yes, it will be a jolly picnic.”

VI

Hawkins was grousing even before they started out, but Follingston-Heath was in fine spirits, shortening his stride to match that of his less athletic companions. The sun turned the surface of Lake Woneapenigong to shards of broken glass. Ignoring Hawkins’s sotto voce curses, jays and cardinals sang in the trees. It was a beautiful morning for reconnoitering.

Everyone carried a small satchel or pack containing an assortment of personal items and other supplies. A phone hung from Follingston-Heath’s belt, though Iranaputra had warned him it was unlikely to work deep within the tunnel. The Colonel had simply smiled patronizingly and brought it anyway. Clearly he did not expect to get very far underground.

Ksarusix trundled along in front, amusing Iranaputra’s companions no end by forging the path. Iranaputra had persuaded it that this was the way to proceed: reveal the secret to one, then to several, later to many more. Though dubious, the robot had seen the wisdom of taking human advice where human doubt was involved. It said little as it retraced a by-now-familiar course through the trees.

Though Village residents were allowed to request Ksarus for picnics, Supervisor Ibrahim was still reluctant to give up even the addled number six for an entire day. He argued the matter loudly with Iranaputra, but gave in fast when Mina Gelmann joined the discussion. It was, as Follingston-Heath pointed out, a strategic and sensible retreat on the part of the kitchen supervisor.

Even Hawkins eventually had to admit that on a day like today a walk through the woods could qualify as invigorating. His perpetually sour expression gradually softened, and he even betrayed some honest excitement when they spotted a bobcat darting through the undergrowth. It flashed yellow eyes at them before vanishing into a rustle of greenery. Like potentially dangerous larger local predators, the bears and catamounts, it had been frightened off by the small electronic critter repeller attached to Follingston-Heath’s pack.

Startled murmuring was the order of the day when they reached the opening. Not that anyone had openly accused Iranaputra of lying, but it was still a bit of a surprise to find that there actually was a cave.

Surprise gave way to astonishment when they reached the tunnel proper and switched on the lights they’d brought with them. It was obvious to the least sophisticated of them that the passage they stood in was of artificial origin. Iranaputra let them examine the walls and floor for a few minutes before directing the robot to lead them onward.

“Are you sure there are no missiles or bombs or anything down here?” Gelmann kept her light on the floor in front of her.

“No. I am not certain of anything, Mina. All I can say is that when I was here before, I saw nothing like that.”

“It’s awfully big for a ventilation shaft.” Shimoda’s light bobbed alongside his robe-clad belly. “And why the gentle angle? Maybe it’s an access tunnel of some kind.”

“Good thought, old chap.” Follingston-Heath’s beam played over the walls and ceiling. “A military installation would have need of such. Certainly this is big enough to allow the passage of small service vehicles, whether powered by maglev or even fossil fuels. I’m not entirely sure which they used back in the aboriginal days.”

“This might have been a secret place,” Gelmann commented. “They were so paranoid then, the poor things. All that tribal nonsense, it gives me a pain in the stomach just to remember it.”

Twenty minutes later she sidled up to Iranaputra. “There certainly is a tunnel here, Victor dear. But I’m afraid I don’t see any sign of your buried city.”

“We have a ways to go yet,” he replied.

“How much of a ways?” Hawkins was rapidly losing interest.

“You’ll see.” The voice of the robot drifted back to him.

“And I ain’t sure I like being led through a hole in the ground by a kitchen tool,” the ex-restorer added. To Iranaputra’s relief, the robot chose not to respond.

“How much farther does this go on?” Hawkins had halted, shining his powerful light ahead. “We have to walk back out of this, you know.”

“Why, Wallace.” Gelmann smiled at him. “I thought you liked walking.”

“I like to walk around the Village. Sometimes I like to walk down to the lake. Endless underground hikes down featureless tunnels I think I find boring.” He gestured with his beam. “Could be a pit or vertical shaft anywhere in here, you know.”

“There is neither,” Iranaputra assured him. “I have been here before, remember?”

“Yeah, so you say. You also said that this ends in a big cavern full of alien city.”

Iranaputra did not smile; he simply resumed walking. “You can go back anytime you like, Wal.” Hawkins watched the others resume their descent until their lights were faint glows in the distance. Muttering under his breath, he hurried to catch up.

With their powerful multiple beams they were able to illuminate a much larger area of the cavern than Ksarusix had on previous visits. The robot moved among their silent, awestruck forms, its voice tainted with satisfaction. Or maybe it was just a rusty growl.

“Would anyone care for lunch now?”

No one replied. Not even Shimoda, who was reciting reassuring haiku under his breath.

“‘Those who seek shall find.’” Iranaputra aligned his light with those of his companions. “The Bhagavad Gita.”

“Don’t quote at us now, old chap,” Follingston-Heath whispered. “This is too momentous an occasion to spoil with misanthropic bons mots.” He was leading the way along the nearest wall, which appeared to be fashioned of seamless chrome or some slick material very near like it.

Shimoda inclined his light upward. Though intense and concentrated, it was unable to reach to the top of the profusion of blisters and curls, radiant spires and spikes, that decorated the nearest structure.

“If there are streets and avenues in this city, we have yet to find them.”

“We could look for them, or we could try in here.” She indicated a black arch set in the wall near her. “You should excuse my pointing it out.”

In its dimensions the opening was a near match to the tunnel they had just traversed. A connection between the two seemed inescapable.

Follingston-Heath approached the pitch-black gap and paused. Descending the tunnel was one thing; heading off into an unknown and possibly alien labyrinth quite another. He and Gelmann shined their beams inside. If anything, the walls were even smoother than those of the tunnel.

It was the only entrance they found. There were no other doorways and no visible windows, nor any protrusions to suggest the presence of same. They could explore the single passageway or start back.

In lieu of a decision, Hawkins, somewhat surprisingly, apologized to Iranaputra. “You were right, Vic.” His light played over the silent chrome walls that towered into the darkness. “You sure found something. I’m sorry I doubted you.” He smiled. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Why?” Gelmann took an exploratory step into the opening. “We just got here, you should be in such a hurry to leave already?”

“It certainly looks alien,” Shimoda declared.

“It is,” said Ksarusix with robotic smugness.

“Lay off the analysis,” Hawkins admonished the machine.

“Stick to what you know.”

“As you wish. Might I suggest lunch?”

A broad smile creased Shimoda’s hairless face. “You may.”

Checking his watch, Follingston-Heath concurred. “Capital suggestion. We could all use a good rest and some food after that hike down. We can eat and think at the same time.”