The Descent

'You have  to understand,' Mary  Kay  said, 'none of this is for public disclosure.'

'You have  our word,' said Thomas.

She  stroked  Yamamoto's  arm.  'We  couldn't  make  sense  out  of  the  two  cognitive patterns.  But  then,  a  few  hours  ago,  something  happened.  The  seizures  stopped. Completely.  And  Yammie  began  to  speak.  She  was   unconscious,  but   she   started

talking.'

'Excellent,' said Parsifal.

'It wasn't in English, though. It  wasn't anything we'd ever  heard.'

'What?'

'We  happened  to  have  an  intern  in  the  room.  He'd  served  as  a  Navy  medic  in sub-Mexico.  Apparently  the  military  plants  microphones  in  remote  recesses.  He'd heard some of the recordings and thought he recognized the sound.'

'Not hadal,' said Parsifal. Confusion aggravated  him.

'Yes.'

'Rubbish.' Parsifal's face was turning red.

'We  obtained  a  tape  of  hadal  voices  from  the  DoD's  library,  top  secret.  Then  we compared  it  with  Yammie's  speech.  It  wasn't   identical,  but   it  was   close  enough. Apparently,  human  vocal  cords  need  practice  to  handle  the  consonants  and  trills  and clicks. But Yammie was speaking their language.'

'Where could she have  learned to speak it?'

'That's  exactly  the  point,'  said  Mary  Kay.  'As  far  as  humans  go,  there  aren't  more than  a  handful  of  recaptures  that  speak  it  in  the  world.  But  Yammie  was.  It's  all  on tape.'

'She must have  heard some recaptures  then,' Parsifal said.

'It's more than simple mimicry, though. See that wall over  there?'

'Is that mud?' asked Vera.

'Feces. Her own. Yammie used it to fingerpaint those symbols.' They  all recognized the symbols as hadal.

'We can't figure out what they  represent,'  said  Mary  Kay.  'I'm  told  that  someone  on a science expedition below the Pacific was starting to crack the  code.  An  archaeologist. Van  Scott  or  something.  The  expedition's  supposed  to  be  a  big  secret.  But  one  of  the mining colonies leaked bits of the story.  Only now the expedition's disappeared.'

'Van Scott. It  wouldn't be a woman, would it?' Vera  asked. 'Von Schade? Ali?'

'That's it. Then you know of her work?'

'Not nearly  enough,' said Vera.

'She's a friend,' Thomas explained. 'We're deeply  concerned.'

'I  still  don't  understand,'  Parsifal  said.  'How  could  this  young  lady  be  mimicking  an alphabet  that  humans  have  only  just  discovered  exists?  And  aping  a  language  that humans don't speak?'

'But she's not mimicking or aping them.'

'Are we to suppose the creatures  of hell are channeling through this poor woman?'

'Of course not, Mr Parsifal.'

'What then?'

'This is going to sound awfully half-baked.'

'After   the   nonsense   we   just   witnessed   out   front?'   said   Parsifal.   'Possession. Exorcism. I'm feeling pretty  warmed up.'

'In  fact,'  Mary   Kay   said,   'Yammie   seems   to   have   become   her   subject.   More precisely, the hadal has become her.'

Parsifal gaped, then started  to growl.

'Listen.' Vera  stopped him. 'Just listen for a minute.'

'Bud's right,' Thomas protested.  'We came all this way  to hear such nonsense?'

'We're just trying  to go where  the evidence points us,' Mary  Kay  pleaded.

'Let  me  get  this  straight.  The  soul  from  that  thing,'  said  Parsifal,  pointing  at  the decaying cranium, 'jumped inside of this young woman?'

'Believe  me,'  Mary  Kay  said,  'none  of  us  want  to  believe  it,  either.  But  something catastrophic    happened    to    her.    The    charts    spiked    right    before    Yammie    fell unconscious.  We've  gone  over  the  video  a  thousand  times.  You  see  Yammie  holding the  EEG  leads,  and  then  she  falls  down.  Maybe  she  conducted  an  electric  current

through her hands. Or the head conducted one into her. I know it sounds fantastic.'

'Fantastic?  Try  lunatic,'  Parsifal  said.  'I've  had  enough  of  this.'  On  his  way  out,  he stopped  by  the  sectioned  skull.  'You  should  clean  your  necropolis,'  he  declared  to  the roomful of  people.  'It's  no  wonder  you're  hatching  such  medieval  rubbish.'  He  opened a  magazine  and  dropped  it  over  the  hadal  head,  then  stalked  out.  From  the  tent  of glossy pages, the hadal eyes  seemed  to peer  out at them.

Mary  Kay  was trembling, shaken by  Parsifal's vehemence.

'Forgive us,' Thomas said  to  her.  'We're  used  to  one  another's  passions  and  dramas. We sometimes forget ourselves  in public.'

'I  think  we  should  have  some  coffee,'  Vera  declared.  'Is  there  a  place  we  can  collect our thoughts?'

Mary  Kay  led them to a small conference  room  with  a  coffee  machine.  A  monitor  on the wall overlooked the  laboratory.  The  smell  of  coffee  was  a  welcome  relief  from  the chemical and decay  stench. Thomas got them  all  seated  and  insisted  on  serving  them. He made sure Mary  Kay  got the first cup. 'I know it sounds crazy,' she said.