emerged, marching toward him. Galen took the other tunnel.
Day and night had little meaning underground; the complex was always busy. He passed through the mazelike corridors and tunnels, moving steadily deeper, spreading his probes, learning what he could.
The upper levels catered mainly to visitors: Humans, Centauri, Drazi, Narns, Pak'ma'ra. Rooms and corridors mimicked designs from the home planets of each. Except for the lack of windows, one might forget one was underground. They gathered in various private meetings, these agents of the Shadows and their masters, where promises were made, plans designed, discipline administered. One Human, named Justin, was involved in several of these meetings.
Below, those vestiges quickly vanished, the walls of cave and tunnel bare. From regular vertical slits in the rock, light shone out, providing a dim illumination. A damp, moldy smell increased with depth. Although Galen saw few Shadows, workers-Drakh, Streib, Wurt, and many of species he couldn't identify-toiled unceasingly in the cause of total war.
He dared not stop to rest. He simply worked his way lower and lower through the claustrophobic passages, searching with his sensors, monitoring through his probes, limbs growing heavy, clothes prickling against his raw skin, exercises reinforcing the rhythm of his steps.
He passed another black membrane covering an opening in the rock. This one was thinner, semitransparent. Through it, he saw the thick bodies and strikingly white heads of several Streib. They moved among rows of beings laid out on black tables, examining their subjects. Those laid out were Drazi, Centauri, Pak'ma'ra, Human-the very same species with whom the Shadows negotiated above. As one of the Drazi struggled, Galen realized the table had entwined