Dominant Species Volume Two -- Edge Effects (Dominant Species Series) by David Coy Page B

the heat,
they bitched about the rain, they bitched about the bugs, they bitched and they
bitched.
    He didn’t mind any of that. In fact, he liked it. He liked the richness
and diversity of the plant life, especially the scent of the flowers once you
got away from the installation with its huge mounds of rotting plant stuff.
He’d set down in a dozen places over the last week, and each one seemed more
beautiful than the last. Just yesterday, he’d found an incredible sparkling
stream running through a deep green grotto. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a
more beautiful place. The stream plummeted over a fall of perhaps ten meters
into a crystalline pool. He’d been tempted to strip and jump into it; but since
he didn’t know what was in the pool, he decided against it. He’d taken pictures
for most of the morning; and when he left, he marked it on his map so he could
find it again. He planned to go back many times.
    He watched the sea of green roll pass under the shuttle like waves
and delighted in the excitement and promise of discovery. This was what
piloting was all about, going into the unknown; seeing and experiencing new
things. He wasn’t just an airbus driver—he was a pilot for God's sake. One of these days he was going to snag the shuttle on his day
off and fly it all the way to the sea and back. Now that would be a trip.
    He rounded “Soledad Spires” and headed down “Soledad Canyon” for
about ten kilometers. He could see the range of hills now dead ahead. He had to
guess at his ETA since the shuttle had no distancing radar. Fifteen minutes,
tops.
    This section was one of the most scenic he’d seen and much of the
forest was broken by sharp rock outcroppings the color of rust and soft green
oxide. The plant life clung to all but the most unforgiving rock facings. Some
were fairly flat on top and were covered with only sparse vegetation; suitable
for an easy landing. He marked the area on the map.
    One of the enormous flying things he’d been seeing almost daily
passed under at a tangent, then vanished into the treetops as if swallowed. He
estimated their wingspans at about three meters or greater. They seemed to
exist only in the deeper canyons. He’d once flown toward a flock of them; and
when he got too close, they vanished into the canopy as if they’d never
existed. He wanted to get close enough to one for a picture, but didn’t think
that would be possible in the shuttle.
    So much life.
    He buzzed another hillside, half of it seemingly cleft by a
chisel, then straightened and swung back on course. He brought his elevation
down to within a few meters of the canopy and raised his speed to seventy
knots, just a percentage or two from the craft’s maximum speed. The ship wasn’t
fast, but being that close to the treetops increased the sense of speed.
    He wasn’t supposed to do that, either.
    There was an enormous outcropping ahead and, to the west, jutting
up out of the basin like a fist. He just had to buzz that one. He banked toward
it and lit another cigarette.
    He approached wide and banked hard around it, keeping his eyes out
the side port. He would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking.
    “What the hell is this?”
    It was there just at the base of the outcropping.
    The structure reminded him of an old scar at the base of the hill,
fused and melded to it. The arms seemed to radiate from a central hub roughly
like the spokes of a wheel and bent snakelike around the larger obstructions.
The jungle had encroached over and through the thing, trying to reclaim its
space.
    He pulled up, hovered, and then lowered the craft to get a closer
look.
    The tentacles seemed to be made of a polished material that still
shone where the plant life hadn’t dulled or obscured those sections. He
realized when he got closer that the tube-like structures were actually made
of individual hexagonal pieces, like tiles, carefully laid in, each beside the
next, perfectly arched, to form the tentacle