The Descent

Cooper turned to his son with horror. 'You spoke to the Church?' Hamilton looked afflicted. 'I was speaking to God.'

De l'Orme tipped his head with mock acknowledgment.

'But what about the confidence between  penitent and confessor?' marveled  Vera.

'I  left  the  cloth  long  ago,'  de  l'Orme  explained.  'But  I  kept  my  friendships  and personal  connections.  It  was  simply  a  matter  of  anticipating  this  venal  man's  mea culpa,  and  then  installing  myself  in  a  small  booth  on  certain  occasions.  Oh,  we've talked  for  hours,  Hamilton  and  I.  I've  learned  much  about  the  House  of  Cooper. Much.'

The  elder Cooper sat back. He stared  out the skybox  window into the night, or at  his

own image in the glass.

De  l'Orme  continued.  'The  Helios  strategy  is  this:  for  disease  to  rage  through  the interior in one  vast  hurricane  of  death.  The  corporate  entity  can  then  occupy  a  world conveniently sterilized of all its nasty  life-forms. Including hadals. That's  why  Helios  is preserving   a  population  up  here.   Because   they're   about   to   kill   everything   that breathes  down below.'

'But why?'  Thomas asked.

De  l'Orme  gave  the  answer.  'History,'  he  said.  'Mr  Cooper  has  read  his  history. Conquest is always  the same. It's  much easier to occupy an empty  paradise.'

Cooper gave  a sulfurous glance at his foolish son.

De l'Orme continued. 'Helios  obtained  the  Prion-9  from  a  laboratory  under  contract to the Army.  Who obtained it  for  Helios  is  blatantly  obvious.  General  Sandwell,  it  was also  you  who  recruited  the  soldier  Dwight  Crockett.  That's  how  Montgomery  Shoat could be immunized under a scapegoat's name.'

'Monty's been immunized?' his mother said.

'Your son is safe,' said de l'Orme. 'At least from the disease.'

'Who controls the release  of the contagion?' Vera  asked Cooper. 'You?' Cooper snorted.

'Montgomery  Shoat,'  guessed  Thomas.  'But  how?  Are  the  capsules  programmed  to release automatically? Is  there  a remote  control? A code? How does it happen?'

'You mean how can you stop it?'

'For God's sake, tell them,' Eva said to her husband.

'It  can't  be  stopped,'  Cooper  said,  'That's  the  whole  truth.  Montgomery  coded  the trigger  device  himself.  He's  the  only  one  who  knows  what  the  electronic  sequence  is. It's  a  mutual  safeguard.  This  way  his  mission  can't  be  compromised  by  anyone.  Not you,' he said to Thomas, then added bitterly,  'and not an indiscreet son. And we, in our haste, can't trigger  the virus  before he determines the time is ripe.'

'Then  we  have  to  find  him,'  said  Vera.  'Give  us  your  map.  Show  us  where  the cylinders have  been placed.'

'This?'  Cooper  slapped  at  the  map.  'It's  merely  a  projection.  Only  the  people  on  the expedition know where  they've  been. Even if you could find him, I doubt  Montgomery remembers  where  he placed the capsules along a ten-thousand-mile path.'

'How many are there?'

'Several  hundred. We mean to be thorough.'

'And trigger  devices?'

'Just the one.'

Thomas studied Cooper's face.

'What is your  calendar for genocide? When does Shoat mean to start  the plague?'

'I  told  you.  When  he  decides  the  time  is  ripe.  Naturally,  he'll  need  the  expedition's services  for  as  long  as  possible.  They  provide  him  transportation,  food,  company, protection. He's not suicidal. He's not  a  kamikaze.  He  insisted  on  being  vaccinated.  He has a strong sense of survival.  And ambition. I'm sure, when  the  time  comes,  he  won't hesitate to finish the job.'

'Even  if  it  means  killing  off  the  expedition.  Your  people.  And  every  human  colonist and miner and soldier down there.'

Cooper did not answer.

'What have  you made our son into?' Eva said. Cooper looked at her. 'Your  son,' he said.

'Monster,' she whispered back. Just then, Vera  said, 'Look.'

She  was  staring  at  the  video  screen.  The  hadal  had  reached  the  piled  sewer  pipes. He  was  pulling  himself  upright  before  the  dark,  round  openings.  The  video  screen showed  him  forty  feet  tall.  His  bare  rib  cage,  scored  with  old  wounds  and  ritual

markings;  bucked  in  quick,  pumping  waves.  The  creature  was  vocalizing,  that  much was evident.

Sandwell went over  and  rotated  the  round  button  on  the  wall.  The  audio  feed  came over  the speakers.  It  sounded like the hooting and huffing of a captured ape.

A  face  had  appeared  at  the  mouth  of  one  sewer  pipe.  Then  other  faces  surfaced  at other  openings.  Crusted  and  wet  with  their  own  filth,  they  came   out  from  their cement burrows and fell upon the  ground  at  the  hadal's  feet.  There  were  only  nine  or ten of them left.

The  hadal's  voice  changed.  He  was  singing  now,  or  praying.  Beseeching  or  offering. To  his  own  image,  of  all  things.  To  the  video  screen.  The  others,  women  and  their young, began to ululate.