Leviathans of Jupiter (29 page)

“The vessel worked as designed,” Archer said, cutting off any further dialogue. “Thank you, Dr. Yeager. Your ship performed beautifully.”

Max grinned even more widely and sat down.

“However,” Archer went on, his expression turning more serious, “we have less than satisfactory results from the mission.”

Before Yeager could react Archer explained, “I mean that
Faraday
spent most of its time in the ocean searching for the leviathans, and almost as soon as it found them, the ship left and returned here.”

“It followed mission protocol!” Yeager objected. “She was programmed to return at a specific time and that's just what she did.”

“Precisely,” said Archer.

Michael Johansen raised a long-fingered hand and said, “It's no reflection on you, Max. The bird left just as things were getting interesting.”

Yeager muttered something too low for the rest of them to hear.

Westfall asked, in her soft little-girl voice, “What do you mean, just as things were getting interesting?”

Johansen turned to her. “Let me show you.” He clicked his own remote and the wall screen darkened.

“More contrast,” Johansen murmured. The screen brightened somewhat, showing the shadowy figures of leviathans gliding easily through the depths.

“The leviathans weren't in their usual feeding location,” said the lanky Johansen, getting up from his chair like a giraffe climbing to its feet. “Most of the time
Faraday
was down there was spent searching for the creatures.”

“And being attacked by the sharks,” Yeager added.

With a nod toward the engineer, Johansen said, “Yes, but the primary objective of the mission was to observe the leviathans. By the time
Faraday
found them it had to leave the scene and return here.”

“As it was programmed to do,” Yeager insisted.

Archer stepped in. “As it was indeed programmed to do. No one's faulting the vehicle or its performance, Dr. Yeager.”

“Yeah, but I see a lot of unhappy faces along this table,” Max grumbled.

“That's not your fault,” Archer soothed. “The problem is that the vessel was following the program we wrote for it, without the capability to change that programming in the face of unexpected events.”

Yeager nodded, but still looked unhappy.

“We did learn quite a bit,” Archer continued. “The leviathans have left the feeding area where we've always found them before.”

Johansen interjected, “The stream of organics flowing in from the clouds above the ocean has been interrupted, probably by the impact of Comet McDaniel-Lloyd last month.”

One of the biologists, a blocky-sized woman with a military buzz cut, said, “So they went searching for another stream to feed on.”

“Exactly,” said Johansen.

Archer pointed out, “
Faraday
found a larger grouping of sharks than we've ever seen before.”

“And they attacked the vessel,” said Johansen.

“No damage,” Yeager said.

The buzz-cut biologist pointed out, “The sharks seemed to be exhibiting territorial behavior. Once the ship moved away from them they stopped attacking it.”

“So what have we got here?” Archer mused aloud. “The comet impact disturbs the stream of organics falling into the ocean. The leviathan herd moves off to find a new feeding area. And the sharks come together in the biggest grouping we've ever observed.”

“And drive away our vessel,” the biologist added. “Territorial behavior, pure and simple.”

“I don't know if it's pure or simple,” Archer countered, with a placating smile, “but it's definitely behavior we've never observed before.”

“The leviathans also exhibited new behavior,” Johansen pointed out. The screen showed one of the gigantic creatures swimming away from the rest of the herd, going off alone. The sharks immediately darted after it.

Then the screen went blank.

“What happened?” Westfall asked. “What did they do?”

“We don't know,” said Archer. “That's the point where
Faraday
left the area and returned here.”

“As programmed,” Yeager said.

“It's too bad the ship was programmed to leave when it did,” Johansen said, looking at Archer rather than Max. “Just when things were getting interesting.”

Archer nodded. Glancing at Westfall, he said, “This clearly shows the limit of robotic missions. If there had been a crew aboard the ship they would have stayed to observe these new behaviors. They wouldn't have left because of a preprogrammed schedule.”

“If they had enough supplies on board to remain,” Westfall countered.

“Yes, of course,” Archer agreed. “But the point is, there's a limit to what we can accomplish with robotic missions. We need to get people down into that ocean again. We need crewed missions.”

Everyone around the table looked toward Westfall. She sat in silence for several long moments, apparently deep in thought. Archer saw the tip of her tongue peek out from between her barely parted lips.

Calmly, deliberately, Archer said to her, “If we're going to learn more about the leviathans, if we're ever going to find out if they're intelligent and perhaps make meaningful contact with them, we've got to send crewed missions down there.”

“In spite of the dangers,” Westfall murmured.

“In spite of the dangers,” Archer confirmed. “The crews will be volunteers, of course. They'll all know the risks they're running.”

Yeager spoke up again. “I think this mission proved that
Faraday
is a tough bird. A crew will be safe with her.”

“As safe as possible,” one of the scientists muttered.

“Safe,” Yeager said flatly.

Westfall heaved an almost theatrical sigh. “I see,” she said. “I understand.”

“Then you won't oppose a crewed mission?” Archer asked, his face alight with hope.

With some reluctance, Westfall said softly, “No, I won't oppose a crewed mission. I still think it's terribly risky, but I suppose I'll have to stand aside and let you try it.”

A burst of grateful relief gusted from the scientists around the table. Westfall smiled at them, thinking, Give them enough rope and they'll hang themselves.

GRANT ARCHER'S OFFICE

Deirdre felt a jumble of emotions as she entered Dr. Archer's office. She had deliberately come ten minutes early for the meeting, hoping to have some time to speak with the station director alone, but Archer was already deep in earnest conversation with a dark-skinned, very serious-looking man whose image was displayed on one of the office's wall screens. The data bar beneath his image read:
DR. ZAREB MUZOREWA, UNIVERSITY OF SELENE.

Muzorewa had been director of the station before Dr. Archer, Deirdre knew.

Archer noticed her as Deirdre slid his office door back and waved her to a chair while the man on the wall screen was saying:

“It's true, Grant, she told the chairman of the council that she's withdrawing her objection to a crewed mission.”

As she silently took a seat next to Archer, Deirdre could see that the station director was practically glowing with satisfaction. “That's great, Zeb,” he said to the screen. “It's a big load off my mind. We can go ahead now without any worries.”

Muzorewa's expression remained stony. “Don't get too happy about it, my friend. She repeated her concerns about the safety risks of the mission, but said you assured her the vehicle was safe and the crew would be volunteers.”

“That's right,” said Archer. “It's true.”

“And the way she worded her message, she's withdrawing her objection—reluctantly—only for this one mission.”

Archer waved a hand in the air. “That's good enough, Zeb. Once we get a crewed mission in and back safely we'll have proved that crews can go down again.”

“On the other hand,” Muzorewa said slowly, choosing his words with obvious care, “if anything goes wrong with your crewed mission, it could spell the end of everything.”

“Then we'll have to make certain that nothing goes wrong,” Archer said.

Muzorewa's flinty expression eased slightly into a tentative smile. “If you can do that, you should be running the universe. Something will go wrong, Grant. It always does. You know that.”

Archer admitted it with a nod. “I meant that we'll have to make sure that nothing major goes wrong.”

Muzorewa nodded back. “Perhaps you should try the power of prayer.”

“Prayer never hurts.”

“Put your trust in the Lord. And keep your powder dry.”

Deirdre recognized the quote: Oliver Cromwell, from seventeenth-century England.

Archer laughed. “Good advice.”

“Good luck, then,” said Muzorewa.

“Thanks, Zeb.”

The wall screen went blank.

Turning to Deirdre, Archer explained, “Zeb was my mentor when I first came to this station. He's been a good and firm friend all these years.”

“I see,” Deirdre said. Suddenly she realized, “But how can you talk with him in real time if he's in Selene? The Moon's at least half an hour away, in light time.”

“He's not in Selene,” Archer explained. “Zeb's right here at the station, down in the third wheel. He just arrived less than an hour ago. He's carrying your nanomachines.”

Still bewildered, she asked, “He got here from Selene in a week?”

“High-
g
boost. We know you need the nanotherapy as quickly as possible, so Zeb volunteered to zip out here with your nanos.”

“You asked him to?”

“I didn't have to,” Archer replied. “I simply explained the problem to him and he volunteered. Brought a couple of nanotechs with him. They developed your therapeutic nanos on the way here.”

Deirdre felt overwhelmed. “They did this for me?”

His smile widening, Archer said, “Frankly, I think Zeb was happy to have an excuse to get back here. He's as curious about the leviathans as I am. He's the one who turned Dr. Corvus on to the problem of communicating with them.”

“I'd like to thank him,” Deirdre said.

“Tomorrow. Right now Zeb and his two technicians are in the infirmary in the third wheel, being checked out after their high-
g
trip: hernias, heart arrhythmias, that sort of thing. Also, I'm not sure that I want Mrs. Westfall to know that they're here.”

“My goodness,” said Deirdre. But she wondered if Grant Archer or anyone else could prevent Katherine Westfall from learning about Muzorewa's arrival.

“I know that you're supposed to report everything you learn to her, but I hope we can keep this from her, at least for a little while.”

Deirdre saw the earnestness in his expression, heard the unvoiced question he was asking her.

“I…” She hesitated, wondering what she should do, then heard herself say, “I won't volunteer any information about Dr. Muzorewa and the nanotech specialists.”

“Thank you,” Archer said. “That could be very helpful.” Then, leaning back slightly in his recliner, Archer said, “I notice that you're early for our little conference.”

Feeling almost embarrassed, Deirdre said in a lowered voice, “I wanted to ask you…”

“Yes?”

“Andy—Dr. Corvus—he wants me to go on the mission with him.”

“I know. He's very pleased with the ease with which you make contact with the dolphins.”

Deirdre realized she was wringing her hands and purposely pressed them flat on the thighs of her creased slacks. “I … I'm not sure that I want to go down there.”

Archer sat up a little straighter. “You did fine in the immersion tank.”

“I suppose so,” Deirdre said, suppressing a shudder, “but I really didn't like it. I don't know if I could stand being in that slimy stuff for days on end.”

“I know how you feel. I understand. I didn't like it much myself when I was in the soup.”

“What will happen if I don't go?”

With a shrug, Archer said, “It just makes Corvus's job that much more difficult. Not that establishing communications with the leviathans will be easy, under any circumstances.” He hesitated a heartbeat, then added, “And, of course, I was hoping that you might be able to make some sense out of the visual imagery the leviathans use to communicate.”

“I just…” Deirdre faltered, then admitted, “I'm afraid!”

Strangely, Archer smiled at her. “You have every right to be. I'd wonder about your sanity if you weren't.”

CLINIC

Katherine Westfall found Dr. Mandrill in the middle of his morning rounds, accompanied by two women in white while moving slowly through the clinic's sole ward. Only three of the ten beds were occupied.

With a polite little cough she caught the portly doctor's attention as she stood by the ward's main door. He frowned at first, but immediately smoothed his expression into a forced smile. After whispering a few words to his aides he waddled up the aisle between the rows of beds to her.

“This is a surprise,” said the doctor, in a low tone. “I didn't expect you—”

Westfall cut him off. “My time is important, Doctor. I need some information from you. Quickly.”

“As soon as I finish—”

“Now,” she snapped.

Barely suppressing his anger, Dr. Mandrill dipped his double chin and acceded, “Now.”

He led her out of the ward and down the short passageway to his office. Once the door was closed, Mrs. Westfall said, “My informants tell me that a Dr. Muzorewa has arrived here from Selene.”

“Muzorewa? Himself?” The doctor's brows hiked up. “He was director of this station, before Dr. Archer.”

“He came with two nanotechnicians.”

“Indeed?”

“That's what I've been told.”

“What would bring the respected Zareb Muzorewa back to station
Gold
?” Dr. Mandrill mused. “And with a pair of nanotechs?”