Gate Team 5 stared at the towel racks for a long thoughtful moment, abandoned by their native guide who had not quite ditched them in the middle of an alien jungle. An alien jungle that apparently knew how to accessorize.
"What do you suppose he meant by 'explosive growth'?"
Several fun-filled hours later they mastered the art of telling dead-and-thus-safely-inert seedpods from attractively-packaged-leafy-green-bundles-of-death. Actually, Matt had mastered the art of setting-off-explosions-from-a-distance-with-inappropriate-amounts-of-amusement, and Amy was working on poking-things-with-a-very-long-stick, in the hopes of securing a pinecone containing screws and not squirrels. Or whatever they were calling the bright orange rodents with a taste for metal and a nasty possessive streak. (Gate Team 5 had learned to stop suggesting names for wildlife in their mission reports, it just made Sam sigh heavily and pull out her red pen.)