The Descent

From  the  hadals'  loathing,  it  was  clear  his  reputation  was  odious.  Even  the  children were  afraid  of  him.  'This  isn't  good,'  Ike  said,  eyeing  the  soldiers.  'We  can't  stay  here. And if we leave  –'

The  walkie-talkie  announced  that  two  of  the  cylinders  had  been  opened  and  Shoat had  a  communications  line  in  operation.  Ali  could  see  by  his  face  that  Walker  wanted to be shed of this business. 'Enough,' Walker said.

'Just leave  them,' Ali said to him.

'I'm a man who  lives  by  his  word,'  Walker  replied.  'It  was  your  friend  Crockett  who declared the policy. No live catches.'

'Colonel,' Ike  said, 'killing the  hadal  is  one  thing.  But  I've  got  a  human  in  this  bunch. Shoot her down, and that would be murder, wouldn't it?'

Ali  thought  he  was  bluffing  to  buy  time,  or  else  talking  about  her.  But  he  reached among the hadals and grabbed the  arm  of  a  creature  who  had  been  hiding  behind  the others. She gave  a shriek and  bit  him,  but  Ike  dragged  her  out,  pinning  her  arms  and hoisting her free. Ali had no chance to see her. The  others clutched at her legs, and Ike kicked at them and backed away.  'Move,' he grunted to Ali. 'Run while we can.'

The  hadals set  up  a  piercing  wail.  Ali  was  certain  they  were  about  to  rush  after  Ike and whatever  it was he'd just kidnapped from  them.  'Move,'  shouted  Ike,  and  she  ran

to the soldiers,  who  opened  a  way  for  her  and  Ike  and  his  catch.  She  tripped  and  fell. Ike  stumbled across her.

'In the name of the Father,' Walker intoned. 'Light 'em up.'

The  soldiers  opened  fire  on  the  survivors.  The  noise  was  deafening  in  the  small chamber,  and  Ali  closed  her  ears  with  both  palms.  The  killing  lasted  less  than  twelve seconds.  There  were  a  few  mop-up  shots,  then  the  gunfire  was  over  and  the  room stank with gas vented  from their guns. Ali heard a woman still screaming, and  thought they'd  wounded one or were  torturing her.

'This way.' A soldier grabbed her. He was taking care  of  her.  She  knew  him  from  his confessions, Calvino, an Italian stallion. His sins had been a pregnant girlfriend, a theft, little more.

'But Ike  –'

'The colonel said now,' he said, and Ali saw a brawl in progress  against  the  back  wall, with  Ike  near  the  bottom  of  the  pile.  In  the  corner  lay  their  little  massacre.  All  for nothing,  she  thought,  and  let  the  soldier  lead  her  away,  back  to  the  grotto  floor,  out through the waterfall.

For  the  next  few  hours,  Ali  waited  by  the  mist.  Each  time  a  soldier  came  out,  she questioned him about Ike.  They  avoided her eyes  and gave  no answer.

At last Walker emerged. Behind him – guarded by  mercenaries – came Ike's  save. They  had bound the female's  arms  with  rope  and  taped  her  mouth  shut.  Her  hands were  covered  with  duct  tape,  and  she  had  wire  wrapped  around  her  neck  as  a  leash. Her  legs  were  shackled  with  comm-line  cable.  She'd  been  cut  and  was  smeared  with gore.

For all that, she walked like a queen, as naked as blue sky. She was not a hadal, Ali realized.

Below the neck, most Homos  of  the  last  hundred  thousand  years  were  virtually  the same, Ali knew. She focused on  the  cranial  shape.  It  was  modern  and sapiens. Except for that, there  was little else to pronounce the girl's humanness.

Every  eye  watched  the  girl.  She  didn't  care.  They  could  look.  They  could  touch. They  could do anything. Every  glance, every  insult made her more superior to them. Her  tattoos  put  Ike's  to  shame.  They  were  blinding,  literally.  You  could  barely  see her  body  for  the  details.  The  pigment  that  had  been  worked  into  her  skin  all  but obliterated its natural brown color. Her belly was round, and her breasts  were  fat,  and she  shook  them  at  one  soldier,  who  pumped  his  head  in  and  out  with  a  downtown rhythm.  There  was no indication she spoke English or any other human language. From  head  to  toe,  she  had  been  embellished  and  engraved  and  bejeweled   and painted. Every  toe was circled  with  a  thin  iron  ring.  Her  feet  were  flat  from  a  lifetime of walking barefoot. Ali guessed she was no more than fourteen.

'We  have  been  advised  by  our  scout,'  Walker  said,  'that  this  child  may  know  what lies ahead. We leave.  Immediately.'

Excluding the loss of Walker's three  mercenaries, it seemed  they  had  escaped  without consequence  from  Cache  III.  They  had  acquired   another   six   weeks   of  food  and batteries,  and had made a  hasty  uplink  with  the  surface  to  let  Helios  know  they  were still in motion.

There  was no sign of pursuit, despite which Ike  pushed  them  thirty  hours  without  a camp. He scared them on. 'We're being hunted,' he warned.