The Descent

'The  effects  aren't  universal,'  said  Cooper.  'In  the  veteran  populations,  the  split  is roughly  fifty-fifty.  Half  show  no  effect.  Half  display  these  delayed  mutations.  Hadal physiologies.  Enlarged  hearts,  pulmonary  and  cerebral  edema,  skin  cancer:  those  are all  symptoms  that  hadals  develop  when  they  come  to  the   surface.   Something  is switching  on  and  off  at  the  DNA  level.  Altering  the  genetic  code.  Their  bodies  begin producing proteins, chimeric proteins, which alter tissues in radically different ways.'

'You  can't  predict  which  half  of  the  population  will  develop  the  problems?'  asked

Vera.

'We don't have  a clue. But if it's happening to six-year  veterans,  it's  eventually  going to happen to four-month miners and settlers.'

'And Helios has to find a solution,' observed  Foley.  'Or  else  your  empire  beneath  the sea will be a ghost town before it ever  starts.'

'In vulgar terms,  precisely.'

'Obviously, you think there's  a solution in the hadal physiology itself,' Vera  said. Cooper  nodded.  'Genetic  engineers  call  it  "cutting  the  Gordian  knot."  We  have  to resolve   the   complexities.   Sort   out   the   viruses   and   retroviruses,   the   genes   and phenotypes.  Examine  the  environmental  factors.  Map  the  chaos.  And  so  Helios  is building  a  multibillion-dollar  research  campus  here,  and  importing  live  hadals  for research  purposes. To make the subplanet safe for humans.'

'But  I  don't  understand,'  said  Vera.  'It  seems  to  me  research  and  development would  be  a  thousand  times  less  complicated  down  below.  Among  other  things,  why stress  your  guinea  pigs  by  transporting  them  to  the  surface?  You  could  build  this same  facility  at  a  subterranean  station  for  a  fraction  of  the   cost.  You'll  need   to pressurize the entire laboratory  to subplanetary  levels. Why not  just  study  the  hadals down there?  There  would be no transportation  costs.  The  mortality  rate  would  be  far lower. And you could test  your  results  on colonists in the field.'

'That's not an option,' de l'Orme said. 'Or it won't be soon.' They  all turned to him.

'Unless  he  brings  up  a  sample  population  of  hadals,  there  won't  be  any  hadals  to sample soon. Isn't that the idea, Mr Cooper?'

'No idea what you're talking about,' Cooper said.

'Perhaps you could tell us about the contagion,' de l'Orme said. 'Prion-9.'

Cooper  appraised  the  little  archaeologist.  'I  know  what  you  know.  We've  learned that  prion  capsules  are  being  planted  along  the  expedition's  route.  But  Helios  has nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  won't  ask  you  to  believe  me.  I  don't  care  if  you  do  or  not.  It's my  people who are at risk down there.  My  expedition. Except  for your  spy,'  he  added,

'the von Schade woman.' January's expression hardened.

'What's this about a contagion?' Eva demanded.

'I  didn't  want   to  worry   you   any   more,'  Cooper  said  to  his   wife.   'A   deranged ex-soldier   has  attached   himself  to  the   expedition.   He's   lacing   the   route   with   a synthetic  virus.'

'My God,' his wife whispered.

'Despicable,' hissed de l'Orme.

'What was that?' Cooper said.

De l'Orme  smiled.  'The  individual  planting  this  contagion  is  named  Shoat.  Your  son, madam.'

'My son?'

'He's being used to deliver  a synthetic  plague. And your  husband sent him.' The  assembly  gawked at the archaeologist. Even Thomas was dismayed.

'Absurd,' Cooper blustered.

De l'Orme pointed in the direction of Cooper's son. 'He told me.'

'I've  never  seen you in my  life,' Hamilton replied.

'True  as it goes, no more than I've  seen you.' De l'Orme grinned. 'But you told me.'

'Lunatic,' Hamilton said under his breath.

'Ach,'  chided  de  l'Orme.  'We've  talked  about  that  sharp  tongue  before.  No  more humiliating  the  wife  at  cocktail  parties.  And  no  more  fists  with  her.  We  agreed.  You were  to work on governing your  anger, yes? Containing your tide.'

The  young man drained gray  beneath his Aspen tan.

De  l'Orme  addressed  them  all.  'Over  the  years,  I've  noticed  that  the  birth  of  a  son sometimes  tempers  a  wild  young  man.  It  can  even  mark  his  return  to  the  faith.  So when  I  heard  of  the  baptism  of  Hamilton's  son,  your  grandson,  Mr  Cooper,  I  had  an idea.  Sure  enough,  it  seems  fatherhood  changed  our  spoiled  young  sinner.  He  has thrown himself onto the  Rock  with  that  special  fervor  of  a  lost  man  found.  For  over  a year  now,  Hamilton's  kept  away  from  his  heroin  chic  and  his  expensive  call  girls  and he has cleansed himself weekly.'

'What are you talking about?' Cooper demanded.

'Young  Cooper  has  developed  a  taste  for  the  holy  wafer,'  said  de  l'Orme.  'And  you know the rules. No Eucharist before confession.'