The Descent

'Yes,  I've  left  the  Army.  But  I'm  still  manning  the  line,'  Sandwell  said.  'Still  taking the fight to the enemy.  Only now I'm doing it with real muscle behind me.'

'You mean money,' said January. 'The Helios treasury.'

'Whatever  it  takes  to  stop  Haddie.  After  all  those  years  of  being  ruled  by  globalists and warmed-over  pacifists, I'm finally dealing with real patriots.'

'Bullshit, General,' January said. 'You're a hireling. You're  simply  helping  Helios  help itself to the subplanet.'

Sandwell  reddened.  'These  rumors  about  a  start-up  nation  underneath  the  Pacific? That's  tabloid talk.'

'When  Thomas  first  described  it,  I  thought  he  was  being  paranoid,'  said  January.  'I thought  no  one  in  their  right  mind  would  dare  rip  the  map  to  shreds  and  glue  the pieces  together  and  declare  it  a  country.  But  it's  happening,  and  you're  part  of  it, General.'

'But  your  map  is  still  intact,'  a  new  voice   said.  They   turned.   C.C.  Cooper  was standing  in  the  doorway.  'All  we've  done  is  lift  it  and  expose  the  blank  tabletop.  And drawn  a  new  land  where  there  was  no  land  before.  We're  making  a  map  within  the map. Out of view.  You  can  go  on  with  your  affairs  as  if  we  never  existed.  And  we  can go on with our affairs. We're stepping off your  merry-go-round,  that's all.'

Years  ago, Time magazine had  mythologized  C.C.  Cooper  as  a  Reaganomic  whiz  kid, lauding  his  by-the-bootstraps  rise  through  computer  chips  and  biotech  patents  and television    programming.    The    article    had    artfully    neglected    to    mention    his manipulation of  hard  currency  and  precious  resources  in  the  crumbling  Soviet  Union, or his sleight of hand with hydroelectric  turbines  for  the  Three  Gorges  dam  project  in China.  His  sponsorship  of  environmental  and  human-rights  groups  was  constantly being shoveled before the  public  as  proof  that  big  money  could  have  a  big  conscience, too.

In  person,  the  entrepreneurial  bangs  and  wire  rims  looked  strained  on  a  man  his age. The  former senator had  a  West  Coast  vitality  that  might  have  played  well  if  he'd become President. At this early  hour, it seemed  excessive.

Cooper  entered,  followed  by  his  son.  Their  resemblance  was  eerie,  except  that  the son had better  hair and wore contacts and  had  a  quarterback's  neck  muscles.  Also,  he did not have  his father's ease among the enemy.  He was being groomed, but  you  could see  that  raw  power  did  not  come  naturally  to  him.  That  he  had  been  included  in  this morning's meeting – and that the meeting had been offered in the  deep  of  night,  while the  city  slept  –  said  much  to  Vera  and  the  others.  It  meant  Cooper  considered  them dangerous,  and  that  his  son  was  now  supposed   to  learn   about   dispatching  one's opponents away  from public view.

Behind  the  two  Cooper  men  came  a  tall,  attractive  woman  in  her  late  forties,  hair bobbed and jet black. She had invited herself along, that was clear. 'Eva Shoat,'  Cooper said  to  the  group.  'My  wife.  And  this  is  my  son,  Hamilton.  Cooper.'  As  distinct  from Montgomery, Vera  realized. The  stepson, Shoat.

Cooper led his entourage to  the  table  and  joined  the  Beowulf  scholars  and  Sandwell. He didn't ask their names. He didn't apologize for being late.

'Your  country-in-progress  is  a  renegade,'  said  Foley.  'No  nation  steps  out  of  the international polity.'

'Says  who?'  Cooper  asked  agreeably.  'Forgive  my  pun.  But  the  international  polity may  go to the devil. I'm going to hell.'

'Do  you  realize  the  chaos  this  will  bring?'  January  asked.  'Your  control  of  ocean shipping  lanes  alone.  Your   ability   to   operate   without   any   oversight.   To   violate

international standards. To penetrate  national borders.'

'But  consider  the  order  I'll  bring  by  occupying  the  underworld.  In  one  fell  swoop,  I return  mankind  to  its  innocence.  This   abyss   beneath   our  feet   will  no  longer  be terrifying  and  unknown.  It  will  no  longer  be  dominated  by  creatures  like  that.'  He pointed at the stadium video. The  hadal  was  lapping  its  own  vomit  from  the  turf.  Eva Shoat shuddered.

'Once  our  colonial  strategy  begins,  we  can  quit  fearing  the  monsters.   No  more superstitions. No more midnight fears. Our children and their children will think of the underworld  as  just  another  piece  of  real  estate.  They'll  take  holidays  to  the  natural wonders  beneath  our  feet.  They'll  enjoy  the  fruits  of  our  inventions.  They'll  own  the untapped energy  of the planet itself. They'll  be free  to work on Utopia.'

'That's  not  the  abyss  man  fears,'  Vera  protested.  'It's  the  one  in  here.'  She  touched the ribs above  her heart.'