The Descent

'It's not your  fault,' he said, and dragged the boat to water.

As he cut his way  down the river,  it finally dawned on her. Ike  dreamed of her.

On September  28 they  homed in on Cache III.

They  had  been  picking  up  increasingly  strong  signals  for  two  days.  Not  sure  what other  surprises  Helios  might  have  in  store,  still  uncertain  what  the  Ranger  assassins had  been  up  to,  Walker  told  Ike  to  stay  behind  while  he  sent  his  soldiers  in  advance. Ike  made  no  objections,  and  drifted  his  kayak  among  the  scientists'  rafts,  silent  and chagrined to be off point for a change.

Where   the   cache   was   supposed   to   be   towered   a   waterfall.   Walker   and   his mercenaries  had  beached  near  its  base  and  were  searching  the  lower  walls  with  the powerful spotlights mounted on their boats. The  waterfall  rifled  down  a  shield  of  olive stone  from  heights  too  high  to  see,  beating  up  a  mist  that  threw  rainbows  in  their lights.  The  scientists  ran  their  rafts  onto  shore  and  disembarked.  Some  quirk  in  the cul-de-sac's acoustics rendered  the roar into a wall of white noise.

Walker  came  over.  'The  rangefinder  reads  zero,'  he  reported.  'That   means   the cylinders are here somewhere. But all we've  got is this waterfall.'

Ali  could  taste  sea  salt  in  the  mist,  and  looked  up  into  the  great  throat  of  the sinkhole  rising  into  darkness.  They  were  by  now  two-thirds  of  the  way  across  the Pacific  Ocean  system,  at  a  depth  of  5,866  fathoms,  over  six  miles  beneath  sea  level.

There  was nothing but water  overhead,  and it was leaking through the ocean floor. '

'They've  got to be here,' said Shoat.

'You've  been  carrying  your  own  rangefinder  around,'  Walker  said.  'Let's  see  if  that works any better.'

Shoat backed away  and grasped at the flat leather  pouch  strung  around  his  neck.  'It won't work for this kind of thing,' he said.  'It's  a  homing  device,  specially  made  for  the transistor beacons I'm planting along the way.  For an emergency  only.'

'Maybe  the cylinders hung up on a shelf,' someone suggested.

'We're  looking,'  said  Walker.  'But  these  rangefinders  are  calibrated  precisely.  The cylinders  should  be  within  two  hundred  feet.  We  haven't  seen  a  sign  of  them.  No cables. No drill scars. Nothing.'

'One  thing's  certain,'  said  Spurrier.  'We're  not  going  anywhere  until  those  supplies are found.'

Ike  took his kayak  downriver to investigate  smaller strands. 'If you  find  them,  leave them.  Don't  touch  them.  Come  back  and  tell  us,'  Walker  instructed  him.  'Somebody's got you in their crosshairs, and I don't want  you  close  to  our  cargo  when  they  pull  the trigger.'

The  expedition broke into search parties, but found nothing. Frustrated,  Walker  put some of his mercenaries to work shoveling at the coarse sand in case the cylinders  had burrowed under. Nothing. Tempers  began to fray,  and few wanted to hear one fellow's calculations about how to ration what  little  food  remained  until  they  reached  the  next cache, five weeks  farther  on.

They  suspended the search to have  their  meal  and  rejuvenate  their  perspective.  Ali sat  with  a  line  of  people,  their  backs  against  the  rafts,  facing  the  waterfall.  Suddenly Troy  said, 'What about there?'  He was pointing at the waterfall.

'Inside the water?'  asked Ali.

'It's the one place we haven't looked.'

They  left their food and walked across  to  the  edge  of  the  tributary  feeding  from  the waterfall's  base,  trying  to  see  through  the  mist  and  plunging  water.  Troy's  hunch spread, and others joined them.

'Someone has to go in,' Spurrier  said.

'I'll do it,' said Troy.

By now Walker had come over.  'We'll take  it from here,' he said.

It   took   another   quarter-hour   to   prepare   Walker's   'volunteer,'   a   huge,   sullen teenager  from  San  Antonio's  West  Side  who'd  lately  started  branding  himself  with hadal  glyphs.  Ali  had  heard  the  colonel  tongue-lashing  him  for  godlessness,  and  this scout  duty  was  obviously  a  punishment.  The  kid  was  scared  as  they  tied  him  to  the end of a rope. 'I don't do waterfalls,' he kept  saying. 'Let El Cap do it.'

'Crockett's gone,' Walker shouted into the noise. 'Just keep  to the wall.'

Hooded  in  his  survival  suit,  wearing  his  night-vision  glasses  more  as  diving  goggles than for the low lux boost, the boy  started  in,  slowly  atomizing  in  the  mist.  They  kept feeding rope into the waterfall, but after  a  few  minutes  there  was  no  more  tow  on  the line. It  went slack.