The 10-person crew had reached solid ground. Ú'mak-sa nariva, Menior recalled Meknáni saying. A fool's grace is more grace than planned. He looked around, the white halo-sphere illuminating the patch of land around them and at their feet. Umbe's eyes were shut, one hand clutching the rope tightly. Above them, ten luminous streaks marked their descent, while all around, there spread an uncharted neverendingness.

Testing the ground with their feet, they commenced area recognition procedures. Sakna-Sa drew out a V-coil and set it up. The device pulsated and began to spin in her palm, gathering energy-information. The 3-inch, white sphere was soon changing hue at the core, becoming light pink in counterclockwise swirls.

Meknáni measured electromagnetic impulse rate, the vertical holographic line before him recording and sending waves of information into their uniforms' energy-grids.

All around, beams of light were issuing, holograms were encoding information, and personal annotations were being mounted into sleeve panels.

"Come see this," Mé asked them.

She had distanced herself from the team and was looking down, her personal halo surrounding her in perpetual light. They all gathered around her, careful not to slip off the platform.

Below them, miles deep and at considerable distance from the wall, there glittered lights amassed around a central node.

"A city," Meknáni uttered.

Murmurs replied to his statement.

"There must be a way to reach it," said Mé.

"We must abide by our protocols," advised Menior in his deep voice. "Our first task is to assess their potential reaction to visitors."

Everyone turned to him.

"Do you think they're hostile?" inquired Umbe.

"No, they cannot be," said Mé.

Sakna-Sa was looking at Umbe. "Assessing natives' reactions to recognition missions needs to include all possibilities. However, remember your Diplomatic training."

"I wouldn't worry, though," Uiio encouraged him.

Maýla-i had arrived by his side, their fingers interlacing fleetingly.

"Our protocol is clear," reinforced Meknáni.

"We shall obtain the necessary information through observation as we approach, which will enable us to withdraw in case of need," Sla reminded her companion.

"Besides, is it not so that Mé has sensed the pit to be mild," asked Gre, turning to seek her support, but stopping mid-sentence. "Where is she?"

Nine merging halos kindled the space around them. The tenth was gone.

"Has she fallen?" asked Sla, stepping away from the group to where Mé had last been seen.

"Be careful," she heard Arít behind her, but as she walked and walked, there was no immediate edge to the platform, which was odd, because she was now feet farther than where that edge had been, and odder yet, there was no visual evidence of there being any city of light in proximity.

She turned in the all-encompassing darkness, their halos the only lights in sight.

"How can this be?" Gre asked, accompanying Sla well beyond what had once been a margin to a platform in the depths of the crater.

"Let us all gather," Sakna-Sa urged them. "And let us stay together during retrieval procedure."

But as they came together, Menior looked around, for something else appeared to be missing; and the whole crew stirred as he stated, "We have lost sight of the ropes."

There was momentary panic left and right.

"Follow me," Meknáni asked. "Let us return to the wall and feel for the ropes."

"I have a bad feeling about this," mumbled Umbe as they were groping blindly through the air, foot by foot, maintaining a closely-knit unit; and there was no wall to be reached, nor ropes to be found.

Menior heaved a deep sigh. "Alright. We need to regroup and vote for a course of action."

"Agreed," muttered several voices.

"First and foremost, it is essential that we do not spread out," the Savier continued.

Assenting nods all around.

"Secondly, we must discern the limits to our new reality."

"New reality?" murmured Sla.

"Ropes disappear, ground extends, wall is gone," he retorted.

"A fluid physicality," she murmured.

"And let us remember the pit's response to our emotion-based greeting," Gre reminded them. "It was done through Mé, who perceived its mildness."

"Wait a minute!" replied Meknáni, the tiger nuance in his voice evident. "Fluid realities and sentient, responsive craters – emphasis on responsive – modify the parameters whereby we may deal with this situation and return to the ship."

"Carry on," Menior encouraged his train of thought.

"If we want to get out, we might need to coordinate our thinking-feeling inputs – speak a new tongue – and ask the pit for guidance. But before that, let us retrieve Mé."

"An interesting theory," observed Arít, "though there are potentially innumerable variables in identifying the correct markers of this non-verbal tongue. The proverbial flying blindfold."

"Agreed," said Sakna-Sa. "The parameters would be too fluid."

"What do you suggest, then?" Meknáni asked.

Silence answered that question.

"Let us not argue over our different perspectives," said Menior composedly. "Let us use logic, not emotion – however, let us not discharge it either. We are confronted with a situation that removes us from the fixed parameters of Star Bay 10-95 protocols. Agreed on that?"

Yes came repeatedly.

"Very well, then," Menior continued. "But we shall not discard them entirely either, for we are, wherever we may find ourselves, Star Bay 10-95 citizens and graduate trainees of High Masters in the Architect's Temple."

He had a soothing, but unhesitating voice – a pillar of stability gathering dispersing energies back into the unitary force that was a team.

"It is imperative that we keep our calm," he carried on, "especially since the reality we find ourselves in is potentially responsive to our moods. We do not know how significant our states of mind are in shaping this fluid reality, but as precaution, can we agree not to entertain unwanted scenarios?"

Some nodded, others assented verbally.

"Good. We are making progress."