by Ben Bova
“But they have run away from us,” Kell said.
“Yes. Now and then. They can move away quite quickly. Much faster than we can follow.”
“Why do they run away?” Bricknell asked.
Sheshardi hunched his shoulder in a puzzled shrug. “Who knows? Our scientists have tried for many years to understand their behavior.”
Kell asked, “The predators—the Darters—how big do they get?”
“Small, compared to the Leviathans. If the Leviathans can be compared to a fair-sized city in size, the Darters are no larger than a city hall.”
“But dangerous.”
“Extremely. They have battered our observation submersibles now and then. Sunk them.”
“Crewed submersibles?” Kell asked.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Loris asked, “And what happened to their crews?”
“All lost.”
A gloomy silence fell across the table.
Then Balsam put on a grin and asked, “And you, Lieutenant Sheshardi, how many times have you gone down there among the Leviathans?”
Sheshardi glanced at Captain Tsavo before answering, “Oh, this is my first time. I’ve never been in the ocean before.”
FINAL PREPARATIONS
Tray awoke the next morning with vague memories of a dream drifting through his mind. He was on the Saviour again, with Felicia, standing in an observation blister, looking out at the splendor of the stars. But it wasn’t Felicia, he realized. The woman was Loris: tall, slim, coolly elegant.
As he got up from the narrow bunk he tried to remember more of his dream. But he could recall nothing except that the two of them—himself and Loris—were holding hands as they gazed out at the magnificent panorama of blazing stars and swirling clouds of glowing dust.
And he kissed her.
“You need a cold shower,” he grumbled to himself.
He was halfway finished dressing when Para quietly opened the door from the passageway outside.
Brightly, the android asked, “Did you have a pleasant sleep?”
Grinning self-consciously as he tugged on his shoes, Tray answered, “Yes. Very pleasant.”
“We are required to bring our clothing and effects into the module—”
“The Athena,” Tray corrected.
Hardly missing a beat, Para went on, “The Athena module this morning. Have you packed what you want to bring aboard?”
“Just a couple of changes of clothes and some toiletries,” Tray replied. Then he added, “And my camera.”
“Athena’s automated sensors will record everything we observe.”
With a hardly visible grin, Tray said, “But not the passengers. The module’s system will record the Leviathans.” Picking up his palm-sized camera from the bedside table, he went on, “I want to record the people we’re riding with.”
Para was unable to register surprise, but the android asked, “Why would you want to do that?”
Tray hesitated as he thought up a cover story. “The music I want to write should include the human reactions to the Leviathans, don’t you think?”
Para blinked once, twice. Then, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Tray suddenly felt sorry for the machine. “You’ve got a lot to learn about human desires, Para. Maybe I can help you, teach you.”
“I would welcome that.”
Tray nodded, but he kept to himself his real reason for bringing the camera. He wanted to film Loris.
* * *
Tray and Para got to the Athena module ahead of everyone else. No one was there; the module seemed empty, cold, and lifeless.
Tray made his way to the door with his name on it. Para stood close behind him, carrying Tray’s modest travel bag. The privacy module was cramped, not a centimeter larger than it needed to be. It was in perfect order, bunk neatly made up, slim closet empty, awaiting Tray’s clothes, bathroom alcove of toilet and mini-shower gleaming under the ceiling lights.
Tray went straight to the electronics handset resting on the bedside stand. He picked it up, scanned its screen, and selected Beethovan’s “Moonlight Sonata.” The piano music filled the narrow compartment, slow, measured, filled with unrealized dreams.
Turning to Para as he switched off the handset, Tray grinned tightly and said, “This ought to be able to record whatever I want to put down.”
“It seems very capable,” Para answered. Tray couldn’t help feeling that the android was proud of its fellow machine.
Para lay the travel bag on the bunk, unzipped it, and began hanging Tray’s modest set of clothes in the minuscule closet while Tray took his toiletries kit to the phone booth–sized lavatory.
Tray stepped back to the bedside. Spreading his arms, he said, “Well, this is going to be home for the next couple of days.”
“Rather tight,” said Para. “I suppose I should stay out in the control center overnight.”
Tray nodded absently.
He heard voices from out in the control center. Opening his cubicle’s door, he saw Loris and Bricknell standing amidst the module’s control and command equipment, glancing around a bit apprehensively. They both carried travel bags hanging limply over their arms.
“Welcome aboard,” Tray said, smiling, as he stepped out of his own compartment.
Bricknell nodded uncertainly, while Loris smiled back at him.
“It’s not much, is it?” Bricknell sniffed.
“It’s only for a couple of days,” said Loris. She spotted her name on the door next to Tray’s. “Excuse me; I’ve got to unpack.”
With a dispirited pout, Bricknell said, “That should take all of a minute.”
“At least two,” Loris countered as she entered her cubicle.
Bricknell looked around the control center. “Where do we eat?” he asked no one in particular. “There’s no chairs, no table.”
Pointing to a ceiling-high gleaming steel door, Para replied, “According to the module’s schematic, our food is stored in the refrigerator there, and we can sit on the pull-out chairs that line the rear bulkhead.”
Bricknell looked where Para pointed, his doubtful expression easing only slightly. “Not all that comfortable, is it?”
Tray said firmly, “We’re here to see the Leviathans, not for creature comforts.”
Bricknell nodded once. “You can say that again.”
DEBARKATION
Tray felt his pulse thumping along his veins as the five passengers stood in Athena’s compact control center. No, he thought, not five of us: six. Para’s with me. Tray thought of the android as a person, not a machine.
Jordan Kell and Martin Balsam had arrived together, like old friends starting out on a pleasure jaunt. Balsam loomed over Kell’s trim figure: Tray thought of an overfed gorilla standing next to a sleek jaguar. But the gorilla’s expression worried Tray; it looked … sly, crafty.
Tray’s palms felt warm, sweaty. Then he noticed that Balsam was perspiring visibly and Loris and Bricknell both looked tense. Only Jordan Kell seemed relaxed as he stood directly behind Gyele Sheshardi, who was sitting in the command chair. From the little he could see of their young skipper, Tray thought Sheshardi looked like a child playing grown-up.
But the Abo was going through the departure checklist very professionally, quietly scrutinizing the readouts of each system and mechanism of Athena’s myriad equipment with cool intelligence.
Suddenly the communications screen started flashing a red URGENT. INCOMING MESSAGE FOR PRESIDENT BALSAM. URGENT. Sheshardi twisted ’round in his oversized chair and looked up questioningly at Balsam.
The Council president frowned slightly and muttered, “No rest for the weary.”
“Do you wish to see the message?” Sheshardi asked.
Looking and sounding exasperated, Balsam answered, “I guess I’ll have to. Put it on-screen, please.”
A sleekly attractive redheaded woman’s face appeared on the communications screen.
“This message is for Council pres
ident Harold Balsam,” she said, in a flat, emotionless voice. “The Council has scheduled an emergency session tomorrow at nine hundred thirty hours GMT to consider Australia’s motion to accept the Aborigine appeal to deny access for the construction of the Macdonnel Ranges power complex. Your presence is urgently required. Please reply immediately. Message ends.”
Balsam’s jaw sagged open. Kell turned to him and said, “I thought that issue was settled.”
Shaking his head wearily, Balsam said, “Apparently the Abos aren’t satisfied.”
Nine thirty tomorrow morning, Tray thought. Balsam can’t possibly get back to Earth by then.
But the Council president was already saying, “I can attend the meeting remotely, with an FTL communications link.”
“But not from here,” Sheshardi pointed out. “This vessel is not equipped with FTL transmission equipment.”
“Damn!”
Kell asked, “There’s no similar message for me?”
Sheshardi shook his head. “Only for President Balsam.”
“They want you to preside over the meeting, Harold,” Kell said. “They don’t need me there. My people will vote in their usual bloc.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” Balsam repeated. “Of all the times to schedule an emergency session.”
Loris asked, “What are you going to do?”
Heaving a heavy sigh, Balsam replied, “I’ll have to go back to Jove’s Messenger and set up an FTL link with Earth for tomorrow’s meeting.”
“We can delay our departure, can’t we?” Tray asked.
Sheshardi shook his head. “Jove’s Messenger is not equipped to stay two extra days or more. We would have to restock the ship’s stores and plan an entirely new trajectory into Jupiter’s atmosphere.”
“Damn!” Balsam repeated.
“To come all this way…” Bricknell groused.
Balsam drew himself up taller. “You go ahead without me. I’ll chair their damned meeting and you people go down to see the Leviathans.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Loris said.
“No, no,” Balsam countered. “You go, as scheduled. I can see the Leviathans some other time.”
Kell started to say, “Harold, I don’t think—”
Balsam stopped him by placing a heavy hand on Kell’s shoulder. “Go on without me, Jordan.” Forcing a grin, he added, “It’s my ship, isn’t it? I can see the damned fish any time I want to.”
“Are you sure?” Kell asked.
Balsam nodded heavily. “You’ve been Council president, Jordan. You know that duty comes before pleasure.”
Sadly, reluctantly, Kell replied, “I’m afraid you’re right, Harold.”
* * *
Balsam grudgingly left the Athena module. As the hatch closed behind him, Tray turned to Kell and said, “That was perfect timing, wasn’t it?”
Kell stared at the closed hatch. “Yes, I suppose it was.”
INTO JUPITER’S CLOUDS
Gyele Sheshardi peered over the back of his command chair and said, “You should all be seated and strapped in.”
Excitement bubbling through him, Tray pulled down one of the folding chairs and, instead of sitting on it himself, gestured for Loris to sit on it.
With a smile she murmured, “Thank you, kind sir.”
Bricknell pulled down the seat on Loris’s other side and plopped himself down on it without a word. But his face showed clear displeasure.
Tray sat at Loris’s other side, Kell beside Bricknell.
Para said, “I can remain standing.”
But Sheshardi cautioned, “Flying through the cloud decks can be quite violent, you know.”
Para glanced at Tray, who nodded, then sat beside him and began buckling the shoulder and lap belts. Sheshardi turned his attention back to the instruments. Tray fought the urged to grasp Loris’s hand. She was close enough for him to pick up the scent of the perfume she was wearing. It reminded him of Felicia.
“It’s a shame Harold has to miss this,” Kell muttered.
Bricknell said, “It’s his responsibility as Council president.”
“Yes, but just the same…”
“He can see the big beasts whenever he wants to. This is his ship, isn’t it?”
Kell nodded. Unhappily, Tray thought.
Sheshardi asked, “Is everyone ready for departure?”
The four passengers nodded.
Sheshardi said, “Aloud, please. For the ship’s log.”
One by one, each of them, including Para, announced they were ready to go.
Tray couldn’t see Sheshardi’s face: from where he was sitting the command chair hid his childlike figure entirely. But he heard a satisfied lilt to the Aborigine’s voice as he reported to Captain Tsavo, “Athena ready for debarkation.”
Tsavo’s face was visible on the main viewscreen. He dipped his chin once as he said, “Departure in ten seconds.”
The master clock on Sheshardi’s control panel began counting down, “Nine … eight…”
Tray felt his innards tightening. Turning his head toward Loris, he saw that she was staring at the screen that showed the clock, its second hand ticking away. On her other side Bricknell licked his lips nervously. Even Kell looked tense, expectant.
“… two … one … launch!”
Tray felt a gentle push against his back. The clock disappeared from the screen, replaced by a view of Jupiter’s multihued clouds streaming across the giant planet’s face.
“We’re on our way,” Sheshardi announced, his voice quavering slightly.
“Into the clouds,” said Bricknell, almost breathless.
Loris added, “And then down into Jupiter’s boundless ocean.”
* * *
As Tray sat tensely, strapped into his chair along the command center’s rear bulkhead, he remembered a line from a book he had read as a child: “Flying is long hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.”
Well, we’ve got the boredom, he thought. Athena had bounced and jittered for hours as it dove through Jupiter’s massive, turbulent cloud deck, but now that they were finally beneath the clouds the flight had smoothed into a monotonous constancy.
The air was clear—and empty. No birds, no creatures of any sort were visible. Just the immense, endless ocean far, far below them, flat and seemingly calm. Their ship was cutting through Jupiter’s hydrogen-rich atmosphere at nearly the speed of sound, but as far as Tray could see in the viewscreens, they were hanging motionless, suspended above a boundless ocean in air that was empty of life.
But then, “Look!” Loris shouted.
She pointed at the control console’s central viewscreen, where an object was floating in midair, so far away that it appeared to be little more than a dark-colored dot against the underside of the clouds that roiled above them.
“A blimp,” said Sheshardi.
“Blimp?”
“That’s what they’re called. The scientific name for them is Medusa Jovianus or something like that.”
“Can we get closer to it?” Kell asked.
“Not without ruining our flight plan,” Sheshardi answered. “But we can magnify the image…”
The blob in the viewscreen seemed to hurtle toward them, taking form as they watched.
It was a massive fat sausage shape, floating in the atmosphere, trailing a cluster of tendrils from its underside.
Sheshardi put one of the education vids on the top-right screen. A youngish man said, “Jupiter’s atmosphere is the habitat of a complex aerial biosphere, dominated by the dirigible-like Medusas that drift endlessly through the enormous blanket of gases.”
The screen showed a still illustration of one of the floaters as the lecturer methodically pointed out its flotation bag, its hunting tendrils, and other aspects of the giant creature.
Tray turned his attention back to the living thing the ship’s cameras were watching, his mind picking up bits from the lecturer’s flat, unexcited voice:
“… sizes range
to several hundred meters in length, and while no samples have been taken for dissection, X-ray and other remote sensing probes show…”
Several hundred meters in length, Tray thought. Big as an ocean liner on Earth. He saw that there were birdlike things fluttering near the Medusa’s dangling tendrils.
The lecturer droned on, “… a complex association of other animals centers around each of these floaters, preying on the smaller creatures that inhabit the Jovian atmosphere. In essence, each individual Medusa can be thought of as the center of a self-contained miniature biosphere that is floating and/or flying through the atmosphere. Present studies are mapping the course of these individual bioemes and working to determine…”
Tray zoned out. He watched the floater and the life-forms centered about it as Athena dived deeper into Jupiter’s thick atmosphere, heading for the eternal sea.
* * *
“It will be rough when we enter the ocean,” Sheshardi warned. “Be certain that you are well strapped in.”
Tray tightened his shoulder harness and lap belt, noticing that the others were doing the same, even Para.
“Will we come down near a flock of the Leviathans?” Loris asked.
Sheshardi’s disembodied voice answered from the command chair, “We will enter the ocean along one of their most heavily traveled migration routes.”
“So we’ll be right in their midst.”
“Hopefully we will be near enough to approach them,” Sheshardi said. “But there are no guarantees, I’m afraid.”
“You mean we might not see them at all?” Bricknell complained.
“It is a very big ocean,” said Sheshardi.
Kell spoke up. “Most of our tracking systems don’t work well in water, and Jupiter’s ocean is mostly water.”
“With a lot of ammonia and other contaminants,” Tray added.
“Quite so,” said Kell. “Sonar is best for underwater tracking, but you have to be in the water for it to work well.”
“We have automated sonar trackers in the ocean,” Bricknell pointed out. “We’ve had ’em in there for years, haven’t we?”
