The Descent

The  rafts  were  roped down with their pontoons fully inflated  and  the  seats  and  floor assembled. They  reminded Ike  of lifeboats descending from a doomed ship.

The  river  swept  away  their first attempt.  Luckily, no one was in it.

At Ike's  instruction, the next  raft  was  suspended  just  above  the  water  while  a  team of  boatmen  rappelled  down  on  five  other  ropes.  They  might  have  been  puppets  on strings,  all  hanging  in  the  air.  On  the  count  of  three,  the  crew  pendulumed  into  the dangling  raft  just  as  it  touched  the  water.  Two  men  didn't  release  from  their  ropes quickly  enough,  and  ended  up  swinging  back  and  forth  above  the  river  while  the  raft drifted on. The  others grabbed paddles and began  digging  at  the  water  toward  a  huge polished natural ramp not far downstream.

The  operation smoothed out once a small motor  was  lowered  and  attached  to  one  of the  rafts.  The  motorized  boat  gave  them  the  ability  to  circle  in  the  water  and  collect passengers and bags of gear hanging on a dozen different ropes.  Some  of  the  scientists proved  to be quite competent with the ropes  and  craft.  Several  of  Walker's  forbidding avengers  looked seasick. Ike  liked that. The  playing field was growing more level.

It  took  five  hours  to  convey  their  tons  of  supplies  down  the  shaft.  A  small  flotilla  of rafts  ferried  the  cargo  to  shore.  Except  for  the  one  raft,  and  the  sacrifice  of  their porters,  the  expedition  had  lost  nothing.  There  was  general  contentment  about  their streamlining. The  Jules Verne  Society was feeling able and  sanctioned,  as  though  they could handle anything hell had to throw at them.

Ali dreamed of the porters  that night. She saw their faces fading into blackness.

Send forth the best ye breed – Go, bind your sons to exile

To serve your captives' need.

– RUDYARD KIPLING, 'The White Man's Burden'

15

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

Little America, Antarctica

January had expected  a raging white hell with hurricanes and  Quonset  huts.  But  their landing  strip  was  dry,  the  windsock  limp.  She  had  pulled  a  lot  of  strings  to  get  them here today, but wasn't quite sure what to  expect.  Branch  could  only  say  that  it  had  to do  with  the  Helios  expedition.  Events  were  developing  that  could  affect  the  entire subplanet.

The  plane  parked  swiftly.  January  and  Thomas  exited  down  the  Globemaster's cargo ramp, past forklifts and bundled GIs.  'They're  waiting,' an escort told them. They  entered  an  elevator.  January  hoped  it  meant  an  upper-story  room  with  a view.  She  wanted  to  watch  this  immense  land  and  eternal  sun.  Instead  they  went down. Ten  stories deep, the doors opened.

The  hallway led to a briefing room, dark and silent inside. She had  thought  the  room empty.  But  a  voice  near  the  front  said,  'Lights.'  It  was  spoken  like  a  warning.  When the lights came on, the room was full. With monsters.

At first she thought they  were  hadals cupping hands over  eyes.  But one  and  all  were American  officers.  In  front  of  her,  a  captain's  jarhead  haircut  revealed  lumps  and corrugations on a skull the shape and size of a football helmet.

As  a  congresswoman,  she  had  chaired  a  subcommittee  investigating  the  effects  of prolonged  tours  of  duty  into  the  interior.  Now,  surrounded  by  officers  of  her  own Army,  she  saw  for  herself  what  'skeletal  warp'  and  osteitis  deformans  really  meant: an  exile  among  their  peers.  January  reached  for  the  term:  Paget's  disease.  It  sent skeletal tissue into an uncontrolled cycle of breakdown  and  growth.  The  cranial  cavity was  not  affected,  and  motion  and  agility  were  uncompromised.  But  deformity  was rampant. She quickly searched for Branch, but  for  once  he  was  indistinguishable  from the crowd.

'Welcome to  our  distinguished  guests,  Senator  January  and  Father  Thomas.'  At  the podium  stood  a  general   named  Sandwell,  known  to   January   as   an   intriguer   of extraordinary  energy.  His reputation as a field commander was not  good.  In  effect,  he had  just  warned  his  men  to  beware  the  politician  and  priest  now  in  their  midst.  'We were  just beginning.'

The  lights  went  out.  There  was  audible  relief,  men  relaxing  back  into  their  chairs again. January's eyes  adjusted to the darkness. A large video screen  was  glowing  aqua blue on one wall. Maps came up,  a  seafloor  topo,  then  a  wireframe  view  of  the  Pacific, then a close-up.