CHAPTER NINE

                                    

                                          
"Well this is just great," Porter muttered aloud, mostly to hear his own voice. It sounded rusty and distant, bouncing back at him off the damp tunnel walls. "I'm lost. I'm Director of Population Logistics. It's my task to move people, and I'm lost." Then he swore for a full minute though it didn't make him feel better.
            Without understanding how he'd done it, he'd looped around twice and stumbled across his own route markers. That wasn't supposed to happen. The maps he'd downloaded from the Progeny mainframe even said as much. Granted, they dated from the pre-terraforming surveys of Eos' underground tunnel network, but things underground shouldn't have changed much.
            Sighing, Porter sank to the tunnel floor and considered his options. Reaching into his pack, he withdrew his micro-tablet and a palmlight, setting the light on the ground to angle over the device and provide ambient lighting. Maybe he was missing something. A light blinked in the corner of the screen. Low power. He'd expected that, but the warning came sooner than anticipated. He'd brought surplus power charges to keep the device running, but once those ran dry, he'd have no way to recharge them. He hadn't thought it would be an issue, but he'd been referring to the maps so often to navigate the labyrinth of tunnels, things were draining faster than planned. 
            Ironically, the one thing he'd worried about most seemed to be going his way—a fresh water supply. He'd crossed several bridges of gorgeously marbled rock spanning rivers of rushing black water. He'd tested the water's pH, found it drinkable, and filled his canteens. So while water wasn't a concern, everything else was. If he couldn't unscrambled the proper route soon, he'd have to turn back, resupply, and try again—providing that option still existed. He didn't want to think about Danais knowing his secrets. It made him worry about Taveel's safety. The boy was a fighter, but few could hold their own against Danais.
            Picking up his belongings and dusting himself off, he pushed away negative thoughts and resumed walking. He knew where he was supposed to be. So, how to get there? Keeping his right hand on the wall, one eye on the tablet, and glancing occasionally at the ground, he eased down the long, narrow tunnel with its rutted floor. He let his fingers trail over the smooth, damp tunnel walls. Dust and mildew assaulted him. He sneezed but didn't move his hand, afraid to lose his place. There had to be something he missed.
            He stopped, considering. He'd been this way before and veered left as per the tunnel's gentle curve. But looking at the map now, it clearly showed a right fork. A fork that wasn't there. Why not? Where was it? He tapped the wall. Solid, clammy rock surface grated on his knuckles. He tried a few feet farther along the tunnel and tapped again. Then a few more feet. He pressed, knocked, and scratched, not sure what he was looking for but knowing, hoping somehow...
            Porter swore when he fell through the wall. One moment, solid rock. The next, air. Rock scrapped against him as if he fought his way through an opening not quite wide enough to accommodate him. Then he was on the other side, standing in another tunnel.
            What the hell had just happened?
            He swiveled back, shining his palmlight on the rocks. The wall was unchanged. He reached out and saw his hand disappear into the stone up to his wrist. Around it, he felt nothing but air. He swore. Holograms. The fork was hidden with holograms!
            He skimmed over his notes. Nothing about hidden forks or holograms. Had projectors been placed there by the Progeny or, the lost colonists? Obviously, they'd have to be maintained, cleaned, and their power supplies recharged. So who was taking care of the projectors? Would the colonists deliberately hide themselves from those on the surface? Unlikely. They wouldn't even know what they were hiding from.