The Descent

'This is an expedition, not your  personal office,' said Shoat. 'The  answer  is  yes.  From now  on,  you'll  need  to  coordinate  your  needs  with  the  colonel's  man,  who  will  direct you to the proper shipment.'

'We're a group,' said Walker.  With  his  uniform  and  trappings  and  his  lean  height,  he had   undeniable   presence.   In   one   hand   he   carried   a   Bible   bound   in   matching camouflage.  'The  group  takes  priority.  You  simply  need  to  anticipate  your  individual requirements,  and my  quartermaster  will assist you. For the sake  of order, you'll have to speak with him at the end of each day. Not in the morning while we are packing, not in the middle of the day  while we are on the trail.'

'I have  to ask permission to get my  own equipment?'

'We'll sort it out.' Shoat sighed. 'Colonel, is there  anything else you'd like to add?' Walker sat on the edge of a rock with one boot planted. 'My  job is hired gun,' he  said.

'Helios brought me on to provide preservation  for this enterprise.' He unfolded  a  sheaf of  pages  and  held  it  up.  'My  contract,'  he  said,  skimming  the  clauses.  'It's  got  some rather  unique features.'

'Colonel,' Shoat warned. Walker ignored him.

'Here,  for  instance,  is  a  list  of  bonus  payments  that  I  get  for  each  one  of  you  who survives  the journey.'

The  colonel had their fullest attention. Shoat didn't dare interrupt.

'It  reminds  me  a  lot  of  a  bounty,'  said  Walker.  'According  to  this,  I  get  so  much  for every  hand,  foot,  limb,  ear,  and/or  eye  that  I  deliver  intact  and  healthy.  That's  your hands,  your  feet,  your  eyes.'  He  found  the  part.  'Let's  see,  at  three  hundred  dollars per eye,  that's  six  hundred  per  pair.  But  they're  only  offering  five  hundred  per  mind. Go figure.'

The  outcry  went  up.  'This  is  outrageous.'  Walker  waved  the  contract  like  a  white flag. 'You need  to  know  something  else,'  he  boomed  out.  They  stilled,  somewhat.  'I've put  my  time  in  down  here,  and  it's  time  to  smell  the  roses,  if  you  will.  Dabble  in politics,  maybe.  Do  some  consulting  work.  Spend  some  downtime  with  my  wife  and kids. And that's where  you come in.'

They  drew  quiet.

'You  see,'  said  Walker,  'my  aim  is  to  get  filthy  rich  off  you  people.  I  mean  to  collect every  penny  of  this  entire  schedule  of  bonuses.  Every  eyeball,  every  testicle,  every toe. Do you ever  ask yourselves  who you can really  trust?'

Walker folded his contract and closed it  in  his  daybook.  'Let  me  submit  that  the  one thing in this world you can always  trust  is self-interest.  And now you know mine.' Shoat was paying painful attention. The  colonel  had  just  threatened  the  expedition's union – and saved  it. But why?  wondered Ali. What was Walker's game?

He clapped the King James against  his  thigh.  'We  are  beginning  a  great  journey  into

the  unknown.  From  now  on,  this  expedition  will  operate  within  guidelines  and  the protection of  my  judgment.  Our  best  protection  will  be  a  common  set  of  ideas.  A  law. That   law,   people,   is   mine.   From   here   on,   we   will   observe   tenets   of   military jurisprudence. In return,  I will restore  you to your  families.'

Shoat's  neck  made  a  slow  extension,  turtle-like.  His  soldier  of  fortune  had  just declared  himself  the  ultimate  legal  authority  over  the  Helios  expedition  for  the  next year.  It  was the  most  audacious  thing  Ali  had  ever  seen.  She  waited  for  the  scientists to raise the roof with their protests.

But there  was silence. Not one objection. Then Ali understood. The  mercenary  had just promised them their lives.

Like any expedition, they  settled  into themselves  by  inches. A pace developed.

Camp broke at 0800. Walker would read a prayer  to his  troops  –  usually  something grim from Revelation or Job or his favorite,  Paul  to  the  Corinthians  – The  night  is  far spent, the  day is at  hand;  let  us  therefore  cast  off  the  works  of  darkness,  and  let  us put on the  armor of  light  –  before  sending  a  half-dozen  ahead  to  audit  the  risks.  The scientists  would  follow.  The  porters  brought  up  the  rear,  protected-driven,  it  was becoming evident  – by  the silent  soldiers.  The  division  of  labor  was  succinct,  the  lines uncrossable.

The  porters  spoke Quechua,  once  the  language  of  the  Incas.  None  of  the  Americans spoke it, and their attempts  to use Spanish were  rebuffed. Ali  tried  her  hand  at  it,  but the  indios  were  not  disposed  to  fraternizing.  At  night  the  mercenaries  patrolled  their perimeter  in  three  shifts,  guarding  less  against  hadal  adversaries  than  against  the flight of their own porters.