The Descent

The  longest  one  measured  twenty-two  rapturously  colored  inches.  The  rich  orchid hues – purple mottling into turquoise and beige – was one more  of  those  paradoxes  of nature: what use was such coloration in the darkness?

The  big  one  had  lactating  teats  –  someone  squeezed  out  a  trickle  of  milk  –  and engorged crimson labia. At first glance, the other seemed  to have  similar  genitalia,  but a Bic tip opened the folds to expose  a surprise.

'What am I seeing here?'

'It's a penis, all right.'

'Not much of one.'

'Reminds me of a guy  I used to date,' said one of the women.

But  even  as  they  bantered  and  joked,  they  were  intently  gleaning  data  from  these bodies. The  tall  one  was  a  nursing  female,  in  heat.  The  other  was  a  male  with  eroded three-cusp  molars, callused foot pads and chipped claws, and  ulcerated  patches  where his  elbows  and  knees  and  shoulder  bones  had  abraded  against  rock.  That  and  other evidence of aging  eliminated  him  as  the  female's  'son.'  Perhaps  they  were  mates.  The female, at any rate,  probably had one or more infants waiting for her to come home. The  two animals revived  from Walker's sedative  in  trembling  bursts.  They  surfaced into full consciousness only  to  hit  the  shock  of  the  humans'  lights  and  sink  into  stupor again.

'Keep  those  ropes  tight,  they  bite,'  Walker   said  as  the   creatures   shivered   and struggled  and  lapsed  back  into  semiconsciousness.  They  were  diminutive.  It  didn't seem possible these  could be the hadals  who  had  slaughtered  armies  and  left  cave  art and cowed eons of humans.

'They're  not  King  Kong,'  Ali  said.  'Look  at  them,  barely  thirty  pounds  apiece.  You'll kill them with those ropes.'

'I can't believe  you destroyed  her wing,' a biologist said to Walker. 'She was probably just defending her nest.'

'What's this,' Shoat retorted,  'Animal Rights Week?'

'I  have  a  question,'  Ali  said.  'We're  supposed  to  leave  in  the  morning.  What  then? They're  not house pets. Do we take  them with us? Should we even  have  them here?' Walker's expression, pleased to begin  with,  drew  in  on  itself.  Clearly  he  thought  her ungrateful. Shoat saw the change, and nodded at Ali as if to say Good  work .

'Well,  we've  got  them  here  now,'  a  geologist  said  with  a  shrug.  'We  can't  pass  up  an opportunity like this.'

They   had  no  nets,   cages,   or  restraining   devices.   While  the   animals   were   still relatively  immobile,  the  biologists  muzzled  them  with  string  and  tied  each  to  a  pack frame with wings and arms outstretched,  and feet  wired together  at the bottom. Their wingspread was modest, less than their height.

'Do  they  possess  true  flight?'  someone  asked.  'Or  are  they  just  aerial  opportunists, drafting down from high perches?'

Over  the  next  hour,  such  details  were  debated  with  great  passion.  One  way  or another, everyone  agreed they  were  prosimians  that  had  somehow  tumbled  from  the family tree  of primates.

'Look  at  that  face,  almost  human,  like  one  of  those  shrunken  heads  you  see  in  the anthro exhibits. What's the cranial measurement  on this guy?'

'Relative to body size, Miocene ape, at best.'

'Nocturnal  extremists,  just  as  I  thought,'  said  Spurrier.  'And  look  at  the  rhinarium, this wet  patch  of  skin.  Like  the  tip  of  a  dog's  nose.  I'm  thinking  lemuriforms  here.  An accidental colonizer. The  subterranean  eco-niche  must  have  been  wide  open  to  them. They  proliferated.  Their  adaptation  radiated  wildly.  Species  diversified.  It  only  takes one pregnant female, you know, wandering off.'

'But frigging wings, for Pete's  sake.'

The  gargoyles had begun struggling again. It  was a slow, blind  writhing.  One  made  a noise midway between  a bark  and a peep.

'What do you suppose they  eat?'

'Insects,' one hazarded.

'Could be carnivorous – look at those incisors.'

'Are you going to talk all day?  Or find out?' It  was Shoat.

Before  anyone  could  stop  him,  he  pulled  his  combat  knife,  with  its  blood  gutter  and double-edged tip, and in one motion cut the male's head off.

They  were  stunned.

Ali   reacted   first.   She   pushed   Shoat.   He   didn't    have    the    size    of   Walker's athlete-warriors,  but he was solid enough. She put more weight into her second shove, and  this  time  got  him  backed  off  a  step.  He  returned  the  push,  open-handed  against her  shoulder.  Ali  staggered.  Quickly,  Shoat  made  a  show  of  holding  the  knife  out  and away,  like she might hurt herself on the blade.  They  faced  each  other.  'Calm  yourself,' he said.