The Descent

No one pressed  the  issue  of  their  destination  any  further.  At  1730  a  pleasant  chime announced  their  departure.  As  if  casting  loose  on  a  raft  upon  a  gentle  stream,  the Helios expedition soundlessly coasted  into  the  depths.  The  track  looked  level  but  was not,  sloping  almost  secretly  downward.  As  it  turned  out,  gravity  was  the  workhorse. Their engine was attached to the rear  and  would  only  be  used  to  pull  the  cars  back  to this  station.  One  by  one,  drawn  by  the  earth  itself,  the  cars  left  behind  the  sparkling lights of Nazca City.

They  approached a portal titled Route  6.  An  extra,  nostalgic  6  had  been  added  with Magic  Marker.  In  a  different  ink,  someone  else  had  attached  a  third  6.  At  the  last minute a young biologist hopped down  from  the  train  and  took  a  final  quick  snapshot, then ran to catch up again while the others  cheered  him.  That  made  them  all  feel  well launched.  The  train  slid  through  a  brief  wall  of  forced  air,  a  climate  lock,  and  they passed inside.

Immediately   the   temperature   and   humidity    dropped.    Nazca    City's    tropical environment vanished. It  was ten degrees  colder in  the  rail  tunnel,  and  the  air  was  as dry  as  a  desert.  At  last,  Ali  realized,  they  were  entering  the  unabridged  hell.  No  fire and brimstone here. It  felt more like high chaparral, like Taos.

The  tracks  glittered  as  if  someone  had  taken  a  polishing  rag  to  them.  The  train began  to  pick  up  speed,  and  they  all  went  to  their  rooms.  In  her  berth,  Ali  found  a wicker  basket  with  fresh  oranges,  Tobler  chocolate,  and  Pepperidge  Farm  cookies. The  little refrigerator  was stocked. Her bunk had a single red rose on the pillow. When she  lay  down,  there  was  a  video  monitor  overhead  for  watching  any  of  hundreds  of films.  Old  monster  movies  were  her  vice.  She  said  her  prayers,  then  fell  asleep  to Them  and the hiss of tracks.

In  the  morning,  Ali  squeezed  into  the  small  shower  and  let  the  hot  water  run through  her  hair.  She  could  not  believe  the  amenities.  Her  timing  with  room  service was just right, and she sat by  the tiny window  with  her  omelette  and  toast  and  coffee. The  window was  round  and  small,  like  a  cabin  port  on  a  ship.  She  saw  only  blackness out  there,  and  thought  that  explained  the  compressed  view.  Then  she  noticed  ELLIS BULLETPROOF  GLASS  etched  in  small  letters  on  the  glass,  and  realized  the  whole train was probably reinforced against attack.

At 0900 their training resumed  in the dining car. The  first morning on  the  train  was given  to  refresher  courses  in  things  like  emergency  medicine,  climbing  techniques, basic  gun  craft,  and  other  general  information  they  were  supposed  to  have  learned over  the  past  few  months.  Most  had  actually  done  their  homework,  and  the  session was more like an icebreaker.

That  afternoon,  Shoat  escalated  their  teachings.  Slide  projectors  and  a  large  video monitor  were   set   up   at   one   end   of   the   dining   car.   He   announced   a   series   of presentations  by  expedition  members  on  their  various  specialties  and  theories.  Ali was enjoying herself. Show-and-tell, with iced shrimp and nachos.

The  first  two  speakers  were  a  biologist  and  a  microbotanist.  Their  topic  was  the difference  between  troglobite,  trogloxene,  and  troglophile.  The  first  category  truly lived  in  the  troglo  –  or  'hole'  –  environment.  Hell  was  their  biological  niche.  The second, xenes,  adapted to it, like eyeless  salamanders. The  third, troglophiles  like  bats and other nocturnal animals, simply visited the subterranean  world on a regular  basis, or exploited it for food or shelter.

The  two scientists began arguing  the  merits  of  preadaptation,  the  'predestination  to darkness.'  Shoat  stepped  to  the  front  and  thanked  them.  His  manner  was  crisp,  yet random. They  were  here on Helios's nickel. This was his show.

Through  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon,  various  specialists  were  introduced  and gave  their  remarks.  Ali  was  impressed  by  the  group's  relative  youth.  Most  had  their doctorates.  Few  were  older  than  forty,  and  some  were  barely  twenty-five.  People wandered in and out of the dining car as the hours wound on, but Ali  sat  through  it  all, fixing faces with names, drinking in the esoterica of sciences she'd never  studied.