The Descent

Ali  looked  around  the  deck  and  saw  some  of  those  who  were  staying.  They  looked ferocious,  but  forlorn,  too.  It  had  been  a  night  of  tears  and  rage  and  vows   of  a class-action   suit   against   Helios.   There   had   even   been   a   fistfight.   Part   of   the resentment,  Ali  realized,  was  that  these  people  had  made  their  minds  up  once,  and

Shoat had forced them to do it again. 'I've  made my  peace,' Ali assured him.

'That's one way  of putting it.' Shoat checked her name on the list.

The  cables  came  taut  overhead.  The  platform  lifted.  Shoat  gave  it  a  hearty  shove and  walked  away  as  they  went  swinging  into  the  abyss.  One  of  Ali's  companions shouted good-bye  to the group of scientists staying behind.

The  sound  of  the  winch  engines  vanished  high  overhead.  It  was  as  if  the  lights  of Esperanza had been flicked off. Suspended by  a  wire,  they  sank  into  blackness,  slowly spinning.  The  overhang  was  stupendous.  Sometimes  the  cliff  wall  was  so  far  away their flashlights barely  reached it.

'Live  worm  on  a  hook,'  one  of  her  neighbors  said  after  the  first  hour.  'Now  I  know how it feels.'

That  was it. Not another word was uttered  by  any of them all the way  down. Ali had never  known such emptiness.

Hours later, they  neared the floor. Chemical runoff and human sewage  had  pooled  in a foul marsh stretching along the base and extending beyond the light across  the  floor. The  stench  cut  through  Ali's  dust  mask.  She  gasped,  then  dumped  the  stench  with disgust. Closer still, her skin prickled with the acidity.

The  winch  landed  them  with  a  bump  on  the  edge  of  the  beach  of  poisons.  A  hand  – something meaty,  but gnarled and missing two fingers – grabbed the railing in front  of her. 'Bajarse,  rápido,'  the  man  barked.  Rags  hung  from  his  head,  perhaps  to  soak  up his sweat  or to shield him from their lights.

Ali unhooked herself and clambered off, and the  character  threw  her  pack  off.  Their platform started  to rise. The  last of her neighbors had to hop to the ground.

She  looked  around  at  this  first  wave  of  explorers.  There  were  fifteen  or  twenty  of them,  standing  in  a  clump  and  shining  their  flashlights.  One  man  had  drawn  a  big handgun and was aiming it vaguely  toward the remoteness.

'Bad place to stand. Better  move  before  something  falls  on  your  heads,'  a  voice  said. They  turned  toward  a  niche  in  the  rock.  Inside  sat  a  man,  his  assault  rifle  parked  to one side. He had night glasses. 'Follow  that  trail.'  He  pointed.  'Keep  going  for  about  an hour.  The  rest  of  your  people  will  catch  up  soon  enough.  And  you,  pendejo,  the gunslinger. Put it back in your  pants before someone gets  shot.'

They  did  as  he  said.  Lights  wagging,  they  followed  a  trail  that  meandered  around the cliff base. There  was no chance of getting lost. It  was the only trail.

A  bleak  fog  hung  across  the  floor.  Rags  of  gas  drifted  at  their  knees.  Small  toxic clouds swirled at head level, blinding white in their headlamps. Here and there,  licks of flame sprang up like St. Elmo's fire, then extinguished.

It  was  a  swamp,  deathly  quiet.  Animals  had  come  here  by  the  tens  of  thousands. Drawn by  the spillage or non-native  nutrients  or,  after  a  while,  by  the  meat  of  earlier visiting  animals,  they  had  eaten  and  drunk  here.  Now  their  bones  and  decay  spoiled among the rocks mile after  mile.

Ali  paused  where  two  of  the  biologists  were  conversing  by  a  pile  of  liquefying  flesh and  spiny   bones.  'We  know  that   spines  and  protective   armor   are   the   proof   of expanding  numbers  of  predators  in  an  environment,'  one  explained  to  her.  'When predators  begin devouring predators, evolution starts  building  body  defenses.  Protein is  not  a  perpetual-motion  machine.  It  has  to  begin  somewhere.  But  no  one's  ever found where  the hadal  food  chain  begins.'  At  least  to  date,  no  one  had  found  evidence of plants down  here.  Without  plants,  you  had  no  herbivores;  what  you  ended  up  with was an entire ecology based on meat.

His  friend  pried  the  jaws  open  to  examine  the  teeth.  Something  scaly  and  clawed came  crawling   out,   another   invader   species   from   the   surface.   'Just   the   way   I expected,'  the friend said. 'Everything  is hungry down here. Starved.'

Ali  moved  on  and  saw  at  least  a  dozen  different  sizes  and  shapes  of  skulls  and  rib cages,  a  brand-new  menagerie  that  was  not  entirely  new  to  her  imagination.  One  set

of  bones  had  the  dimensions  of  a  short  snake  with  a  large  head.  Something  else  had once transported  itself on  two  legs.  Another  animal  could  have  been  a  small  frog  with wings. None of it moved.