Earth

by Ben Bova

  A woman’s dulcet voice said mechancially, “Select a language, please.” It began to repeat the phrase in other languages.

  Tray interrupted, “English, please. American English.”

  “American English,” the voice echoed. “Very well.”

  The suit’s controls were almost completely automatic, the voice explained to Tray.

  “To communicate with other evacuees, press the stud on your right that is blinking white.”

  Tray saw the blinking light, pressed it. The small screen above it flashed a list of names. Tray pressed LORIS DE MAYNE.

  “Yes?” Loris’s voice immediately answered, taut with anxiety.

  “It’s Tray,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  She hesitated. Then, “I think so.”

  Before Tray could say anything else, the suit announced, “Evacuation sequence initiated. Ejection will occur in thirty seconds.”

  INTO THE SEA

  “Wait!” Tray hollered. “What about the others?”

  The suit replied, “Ejection sequence for all five suits is under way. Ejection in nineteen seconds … eighteen…”

  Tray felt his entire body tensing. We’re going to be fired into the ocean. We’re going to be shot like cannon shells into the cold, deep sea.

  Then he realized, “What about Para?”

  The automated voice continued, “Twelve … eleven … ten…”

  “What about Para?” Tray screamed.

  “Five … four…”

  Kell’s voice cut in. “No time to worry—”

  “Ejection,” announced the emotionless voice.

  The roar of the capsule’s rockets deafened Tray momentarily, while the force of its launch buckled his knees, but the coffin-sized compartment of the escape suit gave him no room to collapse. He remained erect, legs like jelly, lungs rasping as he felt a tremendous push and saw in his helmet screens nothing but frothing bubbles.

  I’m in the ocean, Tray’s mind told him. I’m shooting up from Athena toward the surface of the water.

  The maddeningly calm voice of the suit’s command system said serenely, “Estimated time to reach the surface: two hours and thirty-six minutes.”

  “Where are the others?” Tray shouted. “Where’s Para?”

  “All five humans have ejected successfully,” the suit replied, “and are proceeding toward the surface.”

  “What about Para?” Tray shouted again.

  No answer.

  Tray felt as though he were imprisoned in a sarcophagus. There was barely enough room inside the suit to inch his arms up from his sides. He could not sit and the suit’s acceleration made him feel as if he were standing upright.

  He felt panic rising in him. What happened to Para? Where are the others?

  Then Kell’s voice came through. Calm as ever, he said, “I suggest that we each call in and give a status report.”

  Bricknell answered immediately, “Mance here,” he said shakily. “Everything seems to be functioning in the green.”

  Then Loris’s voice came through, “De Mayne. All my screens show green, too. But I’m getting no visuals from you.”

  Kell replied, “The comm system doesn’t include a visual link. Audio only. Saves an enormous amount of bandwidth.”

  “We’re linked by laser beams, aren’t we?” Bricknell asked. “Should be plenty of bandwidth.”

  Kell’s voice answered, “Much of the bandwidth is used to keep track of each other. We’re like five missiles fired from Athena. Visual contact isn’t a first-order priority.”

  Bricknell mumbled something that Tray couldn’t understand. Griping, he thought.

  Kell asked, “Trayvon? Are you with us?”

  “Yes, I’m here. All my systems are in the green.”

  “Good,” said Kell. “My own suit seems to be functioning properly, except for one yellow light at the pressurization indicator.”

  “Yellow light?” Tray asked.

  “Pressurization indicator?” Bricknell’s voice, edging higher.

  Quite calmly, Kell answered, “I have the suit’s diagnostic system checking the reading. It’s probably nothing more than a minor instrument misreading.”

  Loris asked, “Are all your other systems in the green?”

  “Yes,” Kell answered. “All operating as designed.”

  Tray realized he was biting his lips. Kell’s suit had a malfunction and Para was silent. I don’t even know if he got out of the ship! Tray realized. Then he recognized that they hadn’t heard from Sheshardi.

  “Where’s Sheshardi?” he blurted.

  “I am here,” the Aboriginal’s voice answered. “I left a few moments after the four of you did.”

  “Where’s Para?”

  “Your android?” Sheshardi asked. “It left through one of the tubes that you exited from. Completely on its own, without a suit.”

  “Para!” Tray shouted. “Can you hear me?”

  Dead silence.

  Tray turned up the magnification on the screens that lined his suit’s helmet. Nothing but empty ocean. Para was nowhere in sight. A froth of upward-rising bubbles showed where one of the others was, but beyond that Tray could see nothing.

  After several minutes of silence, Kell said gently, “Para’s entire memory is on file back on Earth. They can provide you with a copy of your android, exact in every detail.”

  Tray nodded unconsciously, even though none of the others could see him.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” he muttered.

  Yet he was thinking, But it won’t be Para.

  * * *

  Upward, upward through the depths of the Jovian ocean the five survivors sped. Tray felt physically comfortable enough inside the suit, although he wanted to lie down and mourn for his guide, his mentor, his friend. Para, he said to himself, we’ve killed you.

  Kell’s voice interrupted his mourning.

  “I’m afraid my suit is showing another yellow indication.”

  “Another yellow light?” Sheshardi’s voice.

  “Depth indicator,” said Kell tightly. “I’m no longer rising. I seem to be sinking.”

  BEYOND RESCUE

  “No longer rising?” Sheshardi asked, his voice high, trembling.

  “Sinking?” Loris blurted.

  “I can hear a gurgling sound,” Kell said. “It seems— Oh, my lord!”

  “What?” Loris demanded.

  “Water!” Kell said, almost shouting. “My suit’s leaking!”

  “Leaking?”

  “It’s filling up with water.” For the first time, Kell’s voice betrayed fear.

  “Where are you?” Tray called, realizing it was a stupid question even as the words left his lips.

  “I’m sinking. The water’s cold.”

  Tray’s fingers were flying through his suit’s diagnostics program while all three of the others were jabbering at once. His screens showed nothing. There was no way to rescue a failing escape suit from inside another escape suit.

  Kell was doomed, Tray realized.

  “It’s freezing cold!” Kell was saying. “That’s good: freezes out the pain.… Up past my hips now.”

  Bricknell shouted, “Isn’t there a pump you can use to get rid of the water?”

  “No … it’s up to my chest…”

  “Jordan!” Tray screamed.

  “Good-bye all,” came Kell’s voice. “Looks like … this is … it.”

  “Jordan!” Tray yelled again.

  No reply, except a gurgling of water.

  Tray stood there inside his escape suit, unable to move, to fling his arms wide, to do anything to save the man who had called him son.

  He’s dead, Tray realized. Drowned. Sinking down to the bottom of this endless sea.

  “He doesn’t answer.” Loris’s voice, thick with tears.

  “He’s dead,” said Bricknell.

  “There was nothing we could do,” Sheshardi said mournfully. “Nothing.”

  Tray hung his head, fighting back te
ars.

  Then Sheshardi said, his voice calm and strong, “Each of us should run a complete diagnostic check on his suit.”

  “Right,” said Tray.

  He knew what Sheshardi was up to. Keep us busy. Give us something to do, something to keep us focused on where we are. Something to take our minds away from Jordan Kell’s death.

  * * *

  As the four remaining survivors of Athena continued to rise from the depths of the Jovian sea, Tray began to think that someone in Captain Tsavo’s crew was to blame for this tragedy. First Athena’s controls malfunctioned and then Kell’s suit leaked. Somebody’s responsible. Criminal negligence. Tsavo’s allowed his crew to get away with murder. Literally.

  Then the speaker built into his control panel suddenly came to life. “This is Para. I saw the difficulty Mr. Kell was in but unfortunately there was nothing I could do to help him.”

  Para! Tray exulted. “Para, you’re alive!”

  “Not alive, actually,” the android replied. “But I am functioning and rising to the ocean’s surface with you.”

  “You’re okay? All systems in the green?”

  “The acidic content of the ocean water is etching my outer skin, but otherwise I am undamaged.”

  Tray felt an immense wave of gratitude sweep through him. “Where are you? How far from us?”

  “My sensors indicate the four of you are within a kilometer of each other, but drifting constantly farther apart.”

  “And you?”

  “I am on the extreme left edge of your group, rising at the same rate as the rest of you, to within a few meters per minute.”

  “Great!” said Tray.

  Loris interrupted, “My screens show something in the water heading our way.”

  “Where?” Sheshardi immediately asked.

  “Off to the right,” Loris replied. “About two o’clock.”

  Tray jabbed at his sensor controls. And there it was, a bulbous gasbag trailing long, dangling tentacles.

  “A blimp,” said Sheshardi.

  “A Medusa,” Loris corrected.

  Tray said, “I thought they lived in the atmosphere, not underwater.”

  “There are two species,” Sheshardi replied, “atmospheric and aquatic.”

  “It’s coming toward us,” said Bricknell.

  “It’s curious about us,” Loris suggested.

  “It wants to see if we’re food,” said Tray.

  Sheshardi’s voice sounded grim. “Those tentacles are capable of generating several thousand volts of electricity. The blimps use them to stun their prey.”

  “We’re not their prey!” Loris said.

  “That is a decision the blimp will make for itself,” Sheshardi replied.

  BATTLE

  Tray felt as if he were watching a horror drama. He and the others were encased in the escape suits, unable to move, to run, to get away from the approaching monster. The bulbous floating Medusa drifted closer, closer, trailing those murderous dangling tentacles.

  Frantically, Tray ran through the list of equipment displayed on his main viewscreen. No weapons, no signaling devices, not even lights he could flash to possibly confuse or drive off the approaching beast.

  Closer and closer the blimp-like creature approached, waving its tentacles in an almost hypnotic rhythm.

  Tray checked the suit’s rocket propulsion system. Dead. All its fuel had been used up in the jolting escape from the sinking Athena.

  What can I do? he screamed silently at himself. The damned thing is almost close enough to grab us!

  Sheshardi’s voice, shaky with dread, said, “It’s coming for me!”

  There was no way to evade the monster, Tray saw. No way to escape. He watched the Medusa approach Sheshardi slowly, almost leisurely, its dangling tentacles reaching toward the floating escape suit.

  The tip of one tentacle brushed against Sheshardi’s armored suit. Tray could hear the Abo’s terrified gasping.

  Slowly, with almost loving unhurried leisure, four of the Medusa’s long, snaky tentacles wrapped themselves around Sheshardi’s suit.

  He’s not food! Tray shouted inwardly. You can’t eat him! Leave him alone!

  Sheshardi’s voice was squeaking like a baby’s. Tray couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. Probably lapsing back to his native language.

  A sudden flash of light filled Tray’s compartment, searing his eyes momentarily. He heard a high-pitched screech. Blinking, pawing at his eyes, he saw that the Medusa had released Sheshardi’s suit. It floated inertly beneath the dangling tentacles.

  “Sheshardi!” Tray heard himself call. “Are you all right?”

  No answer. The escape suit bobbed passively in the waves made by the Medusa, which was now floating past it, heading in Tray’s direction.

  “Sheshardi!” Bricknell repeated. “Sheshardi!”

  Silence.

  Tray watched helplessly as the tentacled monster approached him. “We’re not food!” he yelled at it. “We’re not food, you stupid blimp!”

  The Medusa sailed past, one of its tentacles bumping Tray’s escape suit, then quickly withdrawing. It floated off into the distance.

  Tray heard Loris’s voice, high, breathless. “It killed him!”

  Bricknell: “Are you sure he’s dead?”

  “That electric bolt the damned beast shot out,” Tray said. “It killed him, all right.”

  “Poor little man,” Loris moaned.

  Unbidden, an awful thought popped into Tray’s mind. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m a jinx, a Jonah. First the Saviour, then Kell, and now this. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the sense of guilt out of his awareness. But it was there, lying in his brain like a panther waiting to pounce.

  Shaking his head, Tray forced himself to concentrate on the here and now. Forget the myths, the ancient rites of guilt and shame. Concentrate on the here and now. Focus on what’s real.

  “The sooner we get to the surface,” Tray forced himself to say, “the sooner Jove’s Messenger can find us and pick us up.”

  “Amen to that,” Bricknell replied fervently.

  * * *

  Tray felt that he was rising faster. It seemed as if his suit was shooting upward, toward the surface of Jupiter’s all-encompassing sea.

  Wishful thinking, he told himself. The readouts show I’m rising at just about the same rate as when we left Athena.

  But just then he broke through the water’s surface with a splash and began to bob up and down on the waves marching across the ocean.

  “We made it!” came Bricknell’s rejoicing voice.

  “Where’s Loris?”

  “I’m here, floating on my back. I can see the cloud deck, way up there.”

  “Me too,” said Bricknell.

  “Activate your tracking signals,” Tray told them. To himself he added, And hope Jove’s Messenger is on this side of the planet. He felt his sense of guilt diminishing, slinking away into the darker depths of his mind. Not gone, but shrinking.

  RENDEZVOUS

  It’s an enormous planet, Tray said to himself as he bobbed gently in the ocean’s swells. Jove’s Messenger could be half a million klicks away from us.

  How close together are we? Tray wondered.

  “Para, can you see us?” he asked.

  The android replied, “No, none of you. But my horizon is terribly limited, bobbing up and down in the water like this.”

  Tray pecked at his control console, seeking maximum magnification from his suit’s cameras. But even as he did so, he knew that the chances of seeing one of the suits floating in the choppy water was close to zero.

  “I have run a calculation,” Para said, “on how long we can stay in the water like this.”

  “And?” Loris’s voice, tense, frightened.

  “It’s a very rough approximation, based on an estimate of how acidic these waters are and how resistant to corrosion the suits’ materials are.”

  “And?” Bricknell demanded, loudly.

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nbsp; “I believe we are perfectly safe for six hours. After that, the suits will develop leaks.”

  “What about you, Para?” Tray asked. “How long will you last?”

  “Much longer,” the android answered. “My range of survivable environments is much wider than yours.”

  Tray heard Loris make a moaning sound. Bricknell said nothing.

  Despite himself, Tray grinned. Para sounds almost proud of himself, he thought. Then he corrected, itself. And it doesn’t know what pride is. Or hope.

  Glancing at his control panel, just below the viewscreens, Tray saw that his suit’s radio transponder was beeping out its distress signal, loud and clear.

  He knew that Jove’s Messenger was equipped with receiving equipment that could detect their message even from the other side of Jupiter’s massive bulk. But can Tsavo reach us soon enough? he wondered. Six hours, Para said. That’s not much time.

  He floated in the ocean’s waves, on his back, staring at the multihued clouds so far above.

  “Tray?” Loris’s voice!

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think we’ll make it? Will Captain Tsavo reach us in time?”

  “Of course,” Tray replied, hoping it was true.

  “No, he won’t,” Bricknell said. “We’re going to die in this ocean, just like Kell did.”

  “No we’re not!” Tray snapped. True or not, hope was all that they had left.

  As if on cue, a radio voice crackled through the suit’s speaker. “This is Jove’s Messenger. We are tracking your emergency signal. We should be in your vicinity within five hours.”

  Bricknell whooped. Loris burst into tears of joy. Tray thought, Five hours. And Para had calculated our suits would begin to fail in six hours. It’s going to be close. Very close.

  * * *

  Sloshing in the choppy waters of Jupiter’s boundless ocean, Tray wished he could sleep. Just close your eyes and sleep, he commanded himself. Pretend you’re a little kid again and it’s Christmas Eve. If you don’t go to sleep Santa won’t come.