Tunnels 03, Freefall

she came to the section on the buildings this man had put up in Highfield old town, including the square that bore his own name, she stopped to stare out of the window for a few moments before diving into the journal again. Then she came to the final entries, noticing the date of one of them.
    "That was the night... the night Roger left," she said, her voice tense. Her eyes settled on the words, I have to go down there . Reading to the end of the entry, the last in the journal, she came back to these words again.
    "What did he mean, down there? Down where?"
    She checked through the blank pages at the very end of the journal, making sure she hadn't missed anything. On the inside of the back cover she spotted a name and telephone number in pencil. Mr. Ashmi -- parish archives , she read.

    * * * * *

    Will and Chester spent the night in the main room -- Will on a pile of carpets that Martha had spread out on the floor by the map chests, and Chester on a piece of furniture she referred to as the 'chaise long." Chester's eyes had lit up when she'd first mentioned it, imagining he would be sleeping on something approximating a real bed. He was to be sorely disappointed. Once the chaise longue had been cleared, he found that it was so short his feet hung off the end, and also that its old upholstery was as hard as nails. Despite this, the soothing sound of the fire and their fatigue had meant that both he and Will had fallen asleep within seconds.
    They were aroused from their slumbers by Martha rattling the kettle on the hearth.
    "Good morning!" she trilled in a jolly voice as they both heaved their aching bodies to the table.
    "Tea," she said as she handed cups of it to them. Then she placed a chopping board on the table, on which were a bunch of grey plant stems and a selection of white roots of different sizes and shapes. "How about some breakfast? I'll bet you're both starving," she said, as she set about slicing the stems and roots up.
    Chester eyed the unappetizing mass of vegetable matter as she worked on it, and moaned, "Er, really, no thanks, Martha. I feel a bit sick, actually."
    "Me, too," Will said.
    Martha frowned. "It might be because you're new to this place," she suggested. "It takes a while to adjust." As she was chopping, the knife slipped from her hand and flew into the air where it performed a couple of revolutions. "Bother!" she said as she caught it again, and finished the job. "I remember Nathaniel and I went through the same thing."
    "Low gravity," Will said. He'd watched what had happened with the knife and was nodding to himself. "Yes! Martha's right. It could be the low gravity that's making us feel like this. S'pose we just need to get used to it."
    "Well, you're both going to eat whether you like it or not. You've got to keep your strength up," Martha said, sliding from her chair and returning to the hearth, where she scraped the diced vegetables into a pan of boiling water. "A bowl of my soup is what you need," she said firmly.
    "What about Elliott?" Will asked suddenly. "How is she?"
    "Don't you worry," Martha said. "I checked on her during the night and she's still out for the count this morning."
    "Can you do something about her arm?" Chester ventured.
    "First item on my list today," Martha said, picking energetically at a real molar with the nail of her little finger. After examining whatever she'd scraped off her tooth, she sucked it back into her mouth and chewed on it with a pensive expression. Chester, who'd been observing her do this, pushed his tea away from him. If he'd looked pale before, he now turned green. He gulped loudly, "Really, no soup... nothing for me, Martha."
    "You probably should have some," Will advised. "We haven't eaten properly for ages and, besides, it might get everything working again." He glanced down at his stomach.
    "That's just a little more information than I need," Chester said.

    * * * * *

    An hour later, they all went to Elliott's room. Will and Chester hovered on the threshold as Martha gave Elliott a thorough examination.
    "So why is she still unconscious?" Chester asked.
    Martha ran her hands over the girl's scalp and the nape of her neck, then used her thumb to lift an eyelid so she could check the pupil. "She's concussed. She's had a bad knock to the head. Anyway, better for her to be out while I set her arm. Come and help me, will you?"
    The boys sidled up to Martha. She placed a pair of splints ready on either side of Elliott's arm. "Take