The Descent

They  unbolted  the  curved  casing.  Inside,  seated  in  poly-foam,  was  a  small  keypad with  a  note.  'To  the  Helios  Expedition:  Supply  cylinders  are  ready  for  penetration  at your  prompt.  Key  in  the  first  five  numerals  of  pi,  in  reverse,  then  follow  with  pound sign.' They  guessed it  was  a  precaution  to  safeguard  their  food  and  supplies  from  any possible hadal piracy.

Shoat  needed  someone  to  write  down  pi  for  him,  then  keyed  it  in.  He  tapped  the pound key,  and a small red light changed to green. 'I guess we wait,' he said.

They  made  camp  on  the  bank  and  took  turns  spotlighting  the  underside  of  the  drill hole.  Shortly   after   midnight,  one  of  Walker's   sentinels   called  out.  Ali  heard   the scraping of metal. Everyone  gathered  and shone their lights upward,  and  there  it  was, a  silvery  capsule  sinking  toward  them  on  a  glittering  thread.  It  was  like  watching  a rocketship land. The  group cheered.

The  cylinder sizzled on touching the  river,  then  slowly  lowered  onto  its  side  and  the cable  looped  in  a  tangle  in  the  water.  Its  metal  sheath  was  blued  with  scorch  marks. They  mobbed it, only to fall back from its heat.

None of the penetrators  at Cache I  had  been  seared  this  way.  It  meant  the  cylinder had  passed  through  some  kind  of  volcanic  zone,  probably  a  tendril  of  the  Magellan Seamounts. Ali could smell the sulfur smoking on its skin.

'Our supplies,' someone lamented. 'They're  getting cooked inside.'

They  made  a  bucket  brigade,  passing  plastic  bottles  up  and  down  the  line  to  splash on  the  cylinder.  The  metal  steamed,  colors  pulsing  from  one  thermal  complexion  to another.  Gradually  it  cooled  enough  for  them  to  cog  off  the  bolts.  They  got  their knives into the seams and pried the hatch loose and threw  open the doorway.

'God, what's that stink?'

'Meat. They  sent us meat?'

'The heat must have  started  a fire in there.'

Lights  stabbed  at  the  interior.  Ali  looked  over  shoulders,  and  it  was  hard  to  see  for the smoke and stench and heat pouring through the hatch.

'Good Lord, what have  they  sent us?'

'Are those people?' she asked.

'They  look like hadals.'

'How can you say  that?  They're  too burned to tell,' someone said. Walker pushed to the front, Ike  and Shoat right behind him.

'What is this, Shoat?' Walker demanded. 'What is Helios up to?'

Shoat was rattled. 'I have  no idea,' he said. For once Ali believed him.

There  were  three  bodies inside,  strapped  one  above  the  other  in  a  makeshift  cradle of nylon webbing. While the cylinder was vertical, they  would  have  been  suspended  in the harnesses like smoke jumpers.

'Those are uniforms,' someone said. 'Look here, U.S. Army.'

'What do we do? They're  all dead.'

'Unbuckle them. Get  them out.'

'The buckles are melted shut. We'll have  to cut them out. Let  it cool off some more.'

'What were  they  doing in there?'  one of the physicians wondered to Ali.

The  dead limbs lolled. One man  had  bitten  off  his  tongue,  and  the  flap  of  muscle  lay on his  chin.  Then  they  heard  a  moan.  It  came  from  below  the  hatch  opening,  where the third man hung suspended and out of their reach.

Without  a  word,  Ike  vaulted  into  the  smoking  interior.  He  straddled  the  bodies  at hatch  level  and  slashed  at  the  webbing,  clearing  out  the  dead  first.  Crawling  deeper, he  got  the  third  man  cut  free  and  dragged  him  to  the  hatch,  where  a  dozen  hands finished the extraction.

Ali  and  a  few  others  were  tending  the  dead,  laying  bits  of  burned  clothing  across their  faces.  The  man  uppermost  in  the  cylinder,  where  the  heat  and  fire  would  have been worst, had shot  himself  through  the  mouth.  The  middle  man  had  strangled  on  a strap  now  fused  into  his  neck.  Their  clothing  had  caught  fire,  leaving  them  dressed only  in  their  harnesses  and  strapped  with  weapons.  Each  bore  a  pistol,  a  rifle,  and  a knife.

'Check these  scopes out.' A geologist was sweeping the river  with  one  of  the  soldier's rifles.  'These  things  are  rigged  for  sniper  work  at  night.  What  were  they  coming  to hunt?'

'We'll take  those,' Walker said, and his mercenaries collected all the other weapons. Ali  helped  lay  the  third  man  on  the  ground,  then  stood  back.  His  lungs  and  throat had been seared. He was coughing up a clear serous fluid, and  his  temperature  control was shot. He was  dying.  Ike  knelt  beside  him,  along  with  the  doctors  and  Walker  and Shoat. Everyone  was watching.

Walker peeled back a piece of charred cloth. '"First  Cavalry,"'  he  read,  and  looked  at

Ike.  'These  are your  people. What are they  sending Rangers down for?'

'I have  no idea.'

'You know this man?'

'I don't.'