The Descent

'The presidential candidate,' Ali said. 'You served  in the Senate with him.'

'Mostly  against  him,'  January  said.  'He  is  a  brilliant  man.  A  true  visionary.  A  closet fascist.  And  now  a  bitter  and  paranoid  loser.  His  own  party  still  blames  him  for  the humiliation  of  that  election.  The  Supreme  Court  eventually  tossed  out  his  charges  of election fraud. As a result, he sincerely believes  the world's out to get him.'

'I haven't heard a thing about him since his defeat,' said Ali.

'He  quit  the  Senate  and  returned  to  Helios,'  January  said.  'We  were  sure  that  was the end of him, that Cooper  would  quietly  go  back  to  making  money.  Even  the  people who watch such  things  didn't  notice  for  a  while.  C.C.  was  using  shells  and  proxies  and dummy   corporations   to   snap   up   access   rights   and   tunneling   equipment   and subsurface technology. He was cutting deals with governments  of nine different Pacific Rim  nations  to  joint-venture  the  drilling  operations  and  provide  labor,  again  hidden behind  numerous  layers.  The  result  is  that  while  we've  been  pacifying  the  regions underneath  our  cities  and  continents,  Helios  has  gotten  the  jump  on  everyone  else  in suboceanic exploration and development.'

'I thought the colonization was under international auspices,' said Ali.

'It is,' said January, 'within the boundaries of international law. But  international  law hasn't  caught  up  with  nonsovereign  territories.  Offshore,  the  law  is  still  catching  up with subterranean  discoveries.'

'I  didn't  understand  this  either,'   said  Thomas.   'It   turns   out  that   subterranean territory  beneath  the  oceans  is  still  like  the  Wild  West,  subject  to  the   whims  of whoever  occupies  it.  Recall  the  British  tea  company  in  India.  The  fur  companies  in North  America.  The  American  land  companies  in  Texas.  In  the  case  of  the  Pacific Ocean, that means a huge expanse  of country beyond international reach.'

'Which  translates  as  opportunity  for  a  man  like  C.C.  Cooper,'  said  January.  'Today Helios   owns   more   seafloor   drill   holes   than   any   other   entity,   governmental   or otherwise.   They   lead   in   hydroponic   agricultural   methods.   They   own   the   latest technology  for  enhanced  communications  through  rock.  Their  labs  have  created  new drugs  to  help  them  push  the  depths.  They've  approached  the  subplanet  the  way America  approached  manned  landings  on  the  moon  forty  years  ago,  as  a  mission

requiring  life  support  systems,  modes  of  transportation  and  access,   and  logistics. While the rest  of the world's been tiptoeing into their  planetary  basements,  Helios  has spent billions on research  and development, and is poised to exploit the frontier.'

'In  other  words,'  Thomas  said,  'Helios  isn't  sending  these  scientists  down  out  of  the goodness  of  its  heart.  The  expedition  is  top-loaded  with  earth  sciences  and  biology. The  object  of  the  expedition  is  to  expand  knowledge  about  the  lithosphere  and  learn more  about   its  resources   and  life-forms,   especially   those   that   can   be   exploited commercially for energy,  metallurgy, medicine, and other practical uses.  Helios  has  no interest   in   humanizing   our   perception   of   the   hadals,   and   so   the   anthropology component is very  small.'

At the mention of anthropology, Ali started.  'You want me to go? Down there?'

'We're much too old,' January said.

Ali  was  stunned.  How  could  they  ask  such  a  thing  of  her?  She  had  duties,  plans, desires.

'You  should  know,'  Thomas  said  to  Ali,  'the  senator  didn't  choose  you.  I  did.  I've been  watching  you  for  years,  following  your  work.  Your  talents  are  exactly  what  we need.'

'But down there...' She had never  conceived herself on such a journey.  She  hated  the darkness. A year  without sun?

'You would thrive,' said Thomas.

'You've  been there,' Ali said. He spoke with such authority.

'No,'  said  Thomas.  'But  I've  traveled  among  the  hadals  by  visiting  their  evidence  in ruins and museums. My  task  has been complicated by  eons of human superstition  and ignorance.  But  if  you  go  back  far  enough  in  the  human  record,  there  are  glimpses  of what  the  hadals  were  like  thousands  of  years  ago.  Once  upon  a  time  they  were  more than these  degraded, inbred creatures  we reckon with today.'

Her pulse was hammering. She wanted not to be excited. 'You want me  to  locate  the hadals' leader?'

'Not at all.'

'Then what?'

'Language is everything.'

'Decipher their writings? But only fragments exist.'

'Down there,  I'm told,  glyphs  are  abundant.  Miners  blow  up  whole  galleries  of  them every  day.'

Hadal glyphs! Where could this lead?

'A  lot  of  people  think  the  hadals  have  died  off.  That  doesn't  matter,'  said  January.

'We still have  to live with what they  were.  And if  they're  merely  in  hiding  somewhere, then  we've  got  to  know  what  they're  capable  of  –  not  just  their  savagery,  but  the greatness  they  once aspired to. It's  clear  they  were  once  civilized.  And  if  the  legend  is true,  they  fell  from  their  own  grace.  Why?  Could  such  a  fall  be  lying  in  wait  for mankind?'

'Restore their ancient memory  to us,'  Thomas  said  to  Ali.  'Do  that,  and  we  can  truly know Satan.'

It  came back to that, their king of hell.

'No  one  has  managed  to  decode  their  writings,'  Thomas  said.  'It's  a  lost  language, possibly  –  probably  –  lost  even  to  these  remnant  creatures.  They've  forgotten  their own  glory.  And  you're  the  only  person  I  can  think  of  who  might  find  the  language locked  within  hadal  hieroglyphics  and  script.  Unlock  that  dead  language,  and  we  may have  a chance to understand who they  once were.  Unlock  that  language,  and  you  may just find the secret  of your  mother tongue.'

'All  that  said,  I  want  to  be  perfectly  clear.'  January  searched  her  face.  'You  can  say no, Ali.'

But of course she could not.

BOOK 2

INQUISITION

Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook?

– JOB 41:1

8

INTO THE STONE

The Galápagos Islands

June 08

It  seemed  the  helicopter   was   bound  west   forever   across   the   cobalt  blue  water, landless,  stained  red  by  the  sunset.   Night  chased   her   across   the   infinite  Pacific. Childishly, Ali wished they  could stay  ahead of the darkness.

The  islands  were  all  but  covered  with  intricate  scaffolding  and  decks,  miles  and miles  of  it,  ten  stories  high  in  some  places.  Expecting  amorphous  lava  piles,  Ali  was affronted by  the neat geometry.  They'd  been busy  out here. Nazca Depot –  named  for the  geological  plate  it  fed  to  –  was  nothing  but  a  vast  parking  garage  anchored  on pylons.  Supertankers  floated  alongside,  mouths  open,  taking  on  small  symmetrical mountains  of  raw  ore  conveyed  by  belts.  Trucks  hauled  containers  from  one  level  to another.