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Authors: Basil Copper

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We went on for several minutes until the portico had grown so large that the greater part of it was now lost to us in the shimmering vastness above; the right-hand side of the massive stone blocks of which the lintel was composed, bore two lines of inscription only and I photographed these while Scarsdale again noted them. He then radioed Van Damm' personally and gave him an account of our actions for the doctor’s log.

As we went forward again I saw that a vast flight of steps led upwards into the gloom; the interior was not entirely dark however, and fluted openings in the roof let through the phosphorescence from above. I observed wryly to myself that we were now twice removed from the earth above and that we were plunging from the eternal twilight into the stygian abyss; I wondered how many transformations there would be, each, like a series of Chinese boxes, more subtly wrought than the last and each more irrevocably committing us to this underground cosmos with its own arid and sterile atmosphere.

As we went under the portico the Professor observed to me in level tones that we would make Camp Four just outside the entrance the following day. To my surprise the warm, dry wind still blew as we went up the stairs. These were singular indeed and took us some time to mount. Their construction seemed to be of some light-coloured stone like marble or granite; they were not worn in any way and looked as freshly- minted as the day the unknown masons had completed their work.

But the most extraordinary thing about them was their dimensions and configuration. Scarsdale's exclamation reached a climax of admiration as we went upwards and Prescott and I could not help joining in. The steps were the most remarkable I had ever seen. Each was about two feet high, so that we had to scramble awkwardly over the lip, using both our hands to get leverage; the step, if that was the right term, then ran across for more than ten feet before the next pushed upwards into the dimness, and the whole process on our part was repeated. Our progress was necessarily slow under these circumstances and as the warm wind blew steadily down towards us, I was soon perspiring fairly heavily.

Our eyes were by now used to the lower level of light inside and we did not need to use the lanterns in our helmets. I did note, however, that a narrow band of ornamentation ran along each side of the steps, separating it from the wall and I drew this to the Professor's attention. I used my head lamp for this and Scarsdale took a sketch of the zig-zag patterning which ran along the double banding of the step border. I took several pictures for the record and then we went on.

Fortunately, the flight of steps was fairly short, though of great length, due to the ten or twelve feet levels in between each one. At the top we walked forward into what looked like a long rock gallery, perfectly built, and illuminated by the fluted interstices from above. It is now the time to become perfectly precise in my description of the scene, so I must choose my words carefully. We had not gone far into the gallery before I saw that along each side were ranged hundreds of what I must call, for want of a better term, jars. They were in single file, about two feet out from each wall and each bore above it a twin-lettered symbol.

I went up close and pushed at the rim of one of the vessels; though of great thickness and weight it rocked slightly. As far as we could make out in the available light the jars were greyish in colour, about five feet high by about two feet across. They were sealed at the tops with a flat stopper of what looked like clay or rock, cemented with some mucous- like substance round the edges which caught the light of my lantern and glittered. The seal also bore hieroglyphs corresponding to those on the wall above. The sides of the jar, from the indications given at the neck were about an inch thick. They had no necks or shaping such as we understand but were merely cylindrical with a flat base and the same circumference all the way up.

Scarsdale cleared his throat which made an unpleasant rasping noise in the gloom of the gallery. The sound went echoing down the long vista and I saw Prescott visibly start and look about him. He and the Professor conferred together and presently came back to me. The Professor had a geologist's kit with him, containing various small hammers, cold chisels and other implements. He and Prescott chose tools to their liking and selecting the nearest jar, commenced to loosen its sealing stopper. Working from opposite sides, while I reinforced the available lighting from my helmet lantern, they commenced to chip away at the bonding material.

The chinking as the hammer heads descended on to the chisels stirred unnatural echoes in the gallery and once again I saw Prescott, who was staring about him as if to guard our activities from intruders, visibly wince. I could understand his feeling as the echoes seemed to vibrate down the gallery and continue long after they should have died away in the natural order of events. Of course the configuration of the gallery was probably responsible for this eccentric aural phenomena but its effect was unnerving to say the least.

The Professor and his companion worked on for several minutes and their efforts seemed to be having a visible effect; there was a steadily widening crack in the material between the neck of the jar and the sealing disc and in about a quarter of an hour the seal began to give. The Professor and Prescott then both transferred their efforts to one side, and inserting their chisels under the stopper attempted to break the final layer of coagulant material. I heard a sharp crack, a muffled exclamation from Scarsdale who had slipped over, the stopper gave suddenly and there was a rush of air or gas from within the flask accompanied by a most shocking stench which made me feel quite ill. I turned away, groping towards the steps and the entrance of the gallery.

I leaned against one of the jars to clear that loathsome odour from my nostrils. I was thus some feet away from where Prescott and Scarsdale, their activities recommenced, had lifted away the stopper. The back of Prescott was between me and the jar, with the Professor on the far side. There was a grating noise, as the vessel was lifted on to its edge and the two men started to ease something out. I heard a muffled thump, the empty jar rolled with a hollow echo to one side and Prescott gave a loud shriek which jarred my nerves.

I jumped forward, the odour momentarily forgotten, to see Prescott backing away from something on the floor of the gallery; his face was white as he turned to me and his lips moved without formulating any words. I pushed round him somewhat unceremoniously and had to bite my own tongue to prevent my cry from joining the echoes of his own.

The creature which lay before us in shimmery putrescence on the rock bed of the gallery was unlike anything in my experience. It was about four to five feet high, with a shrivelled, white maggot-like body from which depended two stringy lower limbs, hinged in three places and packed behind it. On its back were gigantic wing-cases of bluish sheen. The thing appeared to be all the colours of the rainbow but as we watched the hues lost their brilliance, faded and finally died to a neutral brown as it degenerated in the air of the tunnel.

It was the nightmare face which had wrenched such a horrifying cry from Prescott's pallid lips and it would need the genius of a Bosch or a Goya to depict such a monstrosity in pencil or paint. The features, low set on a neck which seemed to form a contiguous alignment with its chest, were insectivorous. Black tipped antennae projected from a high domed forehead; a series of mucous-plugged holes underneath seemed to serve it for breathing purposes and a tangle of tubes writhed from where the ears would have been in a human visage. A horny slot in the hinged lower jaw served it as mouth but it was the eyes which were the most unnerving and terrifying aspect of the creature. As large as soup plates and all the colours of the rainbow they seemed yet to have life of their own; all the evil of cosmic space and the wisdom of ten million years seemed to gaze from them as the creature weltered in its own juices on the floor. It resembled nothing so much as a gigantic grasshopper imbued with extra-terrestrial intelligence and I breathed a little faster as I imagined its living counterpart countless thousands of years ago.

Scarsdale, as always, was the first to recover. He stepped forward again, removing the handkerchief he had held to his nostrils, the light of enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes.

'Did you ever see the like?' he said to his companion.

'Sacred objects? Or the slaves or pets of the gigantic beings who built these tunnels?'

'Revolting but undoubtedly fascinating,' said Prescott drily, though I caught in his voice the same excitement which was animating the Professor's conversation.

'Do you observe. Professor, the resemblance to the sacred baboon galleries in the tombs of the Ancient Egyptians?'

'Exactly,' said Scarsdale with a chuckle. 'I am glad the allusion had not escaped you. It would seem, however, that unlike the mummified remains of the Egyptians these creatures are highly perishable.'

He scrabbled with the toes of one thick riding boot on the suppurating mass before him; within fifteen minutes the grasshopper-thing had dissolved, melted and evaporated, leaving nothing on the floor but a few drying membranes and some thicker muscular portions of the creature's torso.

I apologised to the Professor for not having taken any photographs.

'Oh that's all right, Plowright,' he said casually. 'We'll open another one straight away and you can get your photographs. Then we'll have to get back.'

He took the radio microphone from me and commenced to dictate a stream of detail to Van Damm back at the base, who seemed, from his comments, as excited as our leader.

'This would happen when I remain behind,' he said irritably.

'Don't worry, Van Damm,' Scarsdale told him. 'There's enough material here for a hundred field workers. We will be returning within the next half an hour.'

He signed off and then he and Prescott turned over another of the jars. They merely broke this with their hammers and though I was expecting it this time, the sight of those hideous eyes staring up at me made it difficult for my trembling hands to focus the camera. However, I captured a dozen or so excellent shots of the thing before it too dissolved as the other before it. I was reminded irresistibly of Poe's description of M. Valdemar disintegrating into 'loathsome putrescence'.

All of us, it appeared to me, were walking rapidly when we turned our backs on the gallery for our long trek back to Camp Three.

Thirteen

1

We spent two days on what Scarsdale and Van Damm had christened the embalming gallery. Once the excitement of our discovery had died away we were all kept busy on our various tasks; much to my own personal distaste Van Damm and Scarsdale had insisted on opening more of the sealed jars with their loathsome contents, though I suppose, to the scientific mind their enthusiasm was understandable. The feelings of the remainder of the expedition were more mundane and muted and it was with some reluctance that I was persuaded into photographing more of the abominations from the jars which, like their predecessors, rapidly evaporated into vapoured and gelid putresence.

Of the beings who had embalmed the grasshopper- creatures we had no scrap of knowledge, for. we found nothing within the gallery that would give us an indication; there was no embalming-room, no tools or trepanning equipment, not even a fragment of an inscription. Yet I realised Scarsdale and possibly Van Damm knew a great deal more about this strange race of ancient beings, engineers and fantastic builders who had wrought these mighty underground workings thousands of years before.

We had not yet advanced beyond the embalming gallery; this was no less than 1,000 metres long and at a conservative estimate there must have been over 10,000 of the strange jars within the building. Van Damm and Scarsdale had opened at least a dozen of the containers and every evening conversation continued long and late as the scientists debated the possibilities. The gallery ended with a similar portico to that by which we had entered. Beyond it was another massive flight of stone steps descending to a lower level; the mist hung thickly here and the steps descended into it until they were lost to sight. Strangely enough the wind still blew strongly from the north but though the vapour billowed and eddied, it still re-formed, making an impenetrable cloud, continually in motion.

Holden carried out a chemical test on the steps, the northernmost point of our penetration, and said the result showed a strong concentration of sulphur but nothing poisonous. We pitched our tents at Camp Four, near the plinth with the weird hieroglyphs and were glad of the shelter because of the grit which flew about that dusty plain. It was odd to realise that it was the same grit which was flung here and there across the surface; it had nowhere to go except within the area of that vast cavern - which, however, we had no way of measuring — and so the same tiny chippings must circle and re-circle wearily over the years.

We were unable to penetrate the floor of-the cavern because of the hardness of the rock so the tentpoles were secured by running them through specially designed steel centre-pieces, which Scarsdale had made in the Surrey workshops. The ropes were secured by the heavier pieces of equipment. Specially annoying to those of the milder- mannered members of the party, were the heavy machine-gun, the elephant guns and other solid pieces of ordnance which Scarsdale insisted on bringing along. These were loaded on to a small rubber-tyred trolly, like a perambulator which one or other of us had to wheel behind him wherever he went.

We were dreading mounting the great steps with this load but Scarsdale said it had to be done and no doubt it would be achieved; what our leader set out to do had a way of being accomplished. I must say I was glad he was in charge and not another of Van Damm's nature. A fine scientist but too finely- wrought and argumentative and not a born leader of men like Scarsdale. The Professor had good humour and great mental toughness, which was essential for such an enterprise as that upon which we were engaged.

Holden and Prescott had been working on their own lines of research and Van Damm and the Professor were filling notebooks with their own figures and data about the insect- creatures. As my main function was photographic-historian and my dark-room and other equipment far away with the tractors, I had little practical to do in my own field, apart from maintaining my cameras and taking pictures, so that I often found myself equipment-bearer or note-taker for one of my colleagues.

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