by Ben Bova
He closed his eyes. Squeezed them shut. But sleep would not come. His mind filled with memories of Jordan Kell, with questions about Para’s condition, with Sheshardi’s death, and a dozen scenarios of being gobbled up by monstrous Jovian sea creatures, with old memories of the Saviour’s sudden, inescapable destruction.
Beyond the confines of his suit, nothing was happening. The huge sky arching above him seemed empty of life. No ogres of the deep rose up to devour them. They just floated up and down on the waves, rocking like bathers at the seashore.
But this ocean doesn’t have a seashore, Tray said to himself. No land. An ocean ten times bigger than the whole Earth. Without bounds. Endless.
Loris’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I think I see something!”
“Where?” Tray and Bricknell asked in unison.
“Off by the horizon. To my right.”
Tray realized that Loris might not be floating in the same attitude as he. Her right could be my left. But he pushed his viewscreen views to maximum magnification anyway.
Nothing. Emptiness.
No, wait. There was something, a speck gliding beneath the multicolored swirling clouds.
A bird, Tray saw. It must be huge, to be visible at this range, he thought.
“It’s a bird,” Bricknell’s disappointed voice came through. “A lousy bird.”
Before tray could think of anything to say, Para’s voice countered, “No, it’s a winged scout vehicle. It must be from Jove’s Messenger.”
Tray strained his eyes peering at the viewscreen. Slowly the image came into sharper focus.
Yes! he exulted. An unmanned scout sent by Tsavo to search this sector of the ocean.
“Hey!” Bricknell yelled. “We’re over here, stupid!”
Tray tapped on the control panel stud that activated the suit’s radio. “This is Trayvon Williamson. Together with Loris De Mayne and Mance Bricknell, and the android Para, we are floating in the sea. We can see you. I’m activating my suit’s homing beacon so that—”
“Trayvon!” Captain Tsavo’s voice broke through. “We have a good fix on you. We’re heading in your direction, should be able to pick you up in another two hours, give or take ten minutes.”
Tray felt an enormous wave of gratitude sweep through him. Two hours, he thought. That should be plenty of time. Our suits will still be sound. We won’t spring leaks and sink.
We’re going to live!
RESCUE
Jove’s Messenger looked like the most beautiful thing in creation, Tray thought. He kept his eyes fixed on the viewscreen as the massive globular ship glided across the colorfully streaked sky toward the floating survivors of Athena.
“Para, how high is the ship above us?”
The android replied within a heartbeat, “Approximately fifty thousand meters.”
“Approximately,” Bricknell mimicked. Tray thought that Mance had found his usual snotty attitude again.
“Loris,” he called, “are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she answered, warmly. “Now.”
“This is Captain Tsavo,” announced the radio speaker on Tray’s control console. “We have you in sight. Recovery operations will begin within fifteen minutes.”
Tray responded with a fervent, “Thank you!”
“You say Kell’s suit failed?”
“Yes,” said Tray.
“Bad business. He’ll be too deep for us to recover his body.”
“Yes,” Tray said again, more softly. Inwardly he thought, Just get us out of this ocean and safely aboard your ship. There’s nothing any of us can do for Kell.
* * *
The rescue operation seemed to move in slow motion. Jove’s Messenger circled high above them while a winged scout vehicle emerged from its spherical hull and came spiraling down to within a few meters of the floating survivors.
One by one, starting with Loris, the scout ship’s crew picked them up with magnetic grapples and hoisted them into their hovering vessel. The ship even maneuvered to Sheshardi’s presumably dead body and lifted it aboard.
At last Tray watched the grapple descending toward him. But he heard himself suddenly call to the rescue ship, “Para! Pick up the android, please.”
The ship commander’s voice sounded surprised. “We were told there were only three survivors to be rescued, and the dead Abo.”
“Plus the android,” Tray corrected.
“It’s only a damned machine. We don’t have time to waste on a machine.”
Para broke into the disagreement. “I’m replaceable, Trayvon.”
“Pick him up!” Tray roared. “Now!”
“Our orders are—”
“To hell with your orders! Pick up the android. Then me.”
Tray hears a mumble of voices. Then, “If that’s the way you want it…”
“That’s the way I want it.”
The rescue craft moved away from Tray, then lowered its grapple onto Para’s metal body. Tray watched as the android rose out of the sea, dripping, and up to the hatch of the hovering vehicle. He saw hands reach out from the ship’s hatch and pull Para inside.
Only then did the rescue vehicle return to hover over Tray and lower its grapple to fasten itself on Tray’s suit.
As he rose out of the water Tray heard one of the crewmen complain, “Wasting time on a bleeding machine.”
* * *
It took several hours to get Tray and the others back to Jove’s Messenger, out of their suits, and through an automated medical examination. At last Tray, Loris, and Mance were pronounced fit to return to their quarters while the ship lifted through the clouds and out into space once again.
The three of them were strangely quiet as they trudged along the ship’s passageways to their quarters. It was as if each of them had been drained of the power of speech, the instinct to chatter among themselves. What can we say? Tray asked himself. After what we’ve just gone through, small talk seems foolish, meaningless.
At last they arrived at the row of hatches marked with their individual names. Wordlessly, Tray opened the hatch and stepped into his minuscule cabin.
Para was standing next to Tray’s bed.
Tray stopped in the hatchway and looked at the android. Para’s metal skin looked stained, soiled, like a little boy who had been playing in mud.
“You’re all right?”
Para nodded once as it said, “I was about to ask you the same question.”
“The medical system pronounced me in excellent health,” Tray said. “How about you?”
The android replied, “My outermost shell was somewhat eroded by the acidic water, but that can be corrected when we return to Earth.”
“Good,” said Tray.
“How are Lady De Mayne and Dr. Bricknell?”
Stepping fully into the cramped compartment and closing the hatch behind him, Tray said, “They’re okay, too.”
Without moving a step closer to Tray, Para said, “I want to thank you for rescuing me.”
Tray blinked. “You’re part of our team, Para. We’re partners, you and I. Friends. I couldn’t let them leave you there sloshing in the ocean.”
Para’s face revealed no emotion. But the android said, “Yes, you could have. But you didn’t. Thank you.”
Tray suddenly felt uncomfortable, embarrassed. He turned to the phone beside his bunk and called out, “Phone: Contact Loris De Mayne, please.”
The viewscreen at the foot of the bed glowed, but no picture came up. Tray heard water running.
“Hello, Tray,” said Loris’s voice. “Please excuse the video outage: I’m in the shower.”
“You’re all right?”
“Right as rain, as my old grandmum used to say. Happy to be home, even if it’s only this closet of a cabin.”
“Good! Me too.”
“Mance passed easily, too. All three of us are fine.”
Tray felt a pang in his gut. “Too bad about Mr. Kell, though.”
For a moment the
re was no reply. Then, “Yes. Too utterly, terribly bad.”
“What do you suppose happened to his emergency suit?” Tray wondered aloud.
“I can’t imagine.”
“Neither can I,” Tray said. He added silently, But I’m going to do my damnedest to find out.
* * *
Captain Tsavo invited the three survivors to dinner in his personal suite, next to the ship’s bridge. After wandering through the ship’s passageways, Tray finally arrived at the hatch, with Para at his side. He rapped on the metal hatch once; it slid open immediately.
Tsavo was standing at the bar set along one bulkhead of the compartment, together with Loris and Mance Bricknell. They all had drinks in their hands.
“I was about to send out a search party for you,” the captain said, with a teasing smile on his dark face.
Tray made an apologetic shrug. “I got lost. If Para weren’t with me I’d still be wandering through the passageways.”
Towering over them all, Tsavo cast a doubtful eye on Para. “A party like this can’t be much fun for you, can it?”
Para replied, “I don’t need alcohol to improve my social skills.”
Bricknell hmmphed. “Neither do I. But I enjoy a drink now and then.” Before anyone could comment, he added, “About every ten minutes seems to be just about right.”
The others laughed, although Tray barely forced a smile. Para nodded his head and murmured, “Touché.”
Sensing a hint of tension, Tsavo gestured to the dinner table and said, “Well, now that we’re all here, let’s have some food.”
They moved toward the table, elegantly set with pure white china, crystal glasses, and gleaming silverware.
“Nothing but the best,” Tsavo said proudly. Pointing to a corner of the dining room, he added, “Para, you won’t mind standing in the corner, will you?”
Tray started to object, but the android said, “Of course not.”
Loris gripped Tray’s hand. He turned to her and recognized for the first time that she was beautifully dressed in a long-skirted cobalt blue dress that closely complemented her eyes. A glittering ring of diamonds clung to her throat, but they weren’t as bright as her smile.
Tray sat next to her, Bricknell on her other side. Tsavo sat at the head of the table. A human waiter asked in a whisper what Tray wanted to drink.
“Water will be fine,” he replied.
Tsavo raised a cautionary hand. “We’ll be serving some fine Gattinara with the main course, Mr. Williamson. Mr. Balsam’s chef has stocked a bountiful supply of Italian wines. I hope you’ll join us then.”
With a self-deprecating little smile, Tray responded, “Of course. I’d be happy to.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m not a total prude.”
“Just a partial one,” Bricknell sneered.
Tray held on to his temper. Barely.
* * *
The food was wonderful, Tray had to admit.
Tsavo gloried in the success of his kitchen staff.
“President Balsam made certain that his ship included the finest food processing equipment money could buy,” he bragged. “My people grew this mutton from stem cells right back there in the kitchen. Not bad, eh?”
“It’s delicious,” Loris answered, as if on cue.
“I must say,” Bricknell remarked, “this is better than I’ve had in Paris or just about anywhere else.”
“I imagine it is,” Tsavo said. “Mr. Balsam insists on nothing but the best.”
Tray glanced at Loris as he swallowed his last piece of processed mutton, then looked up at Captain Tsavo.
“Captain,” he asked, “are you going to convene an inquiry into Jordan Kell’s death?”
Tsavo’s brows knit into a frown. “Inquiry?”
“His emergency suit failed,” Tray went on. “Shouldn’t we try to find out why?”
The captain laid his fork down on the tablecloth and took in a breath. “His suit,” he said with deliberate care, “with him in it, is several hundred miles beneath the surface of the ocean.”
“And sinking deeper,” Bricknell added, “every moment.”
“There’s no way we can recover it for examination,” Tsavo went on.
“We all understand that,” said Tray. “But don’t you have a diagnostic record of his suit? Wasn’t it tested before Athena went into the water?”
“Yes, of course it was tested,” Tsavo said.
“Mightn’t a review of the testing procedure turn up something?”
“Something? What?”
“If we knew that, we wouldn’t need an investigation,” said Tray.
Captain Tsavo stared at Tray for a long, silent moment. Then, “You had a special relationship with Kell, didn’t you?”
Nodding, Tray replied, “He treated me like a father, as if I was his son.”
With a slight smirk, Tsavo said, “Of course he did.”
Realizing the implication behind the captain’s expression, Tray felt hot anger bubbling up inside him. “What are you insinuating?”
Tsavo looked around the table. “Perhaps we should let the subject drop. It won’t help things to carry it farther.”
Half-rising from his chair, Tray repeated, “What are you insinuating?”
Tsavo glanced at Loris, then looked back into Tray’s flushed face. “Nothing,” he said coolly. “Nothing at all.”
Bricknell reached a hand toward Tray. “Sit down, man. Take it easy.”
Tray did not move.
With a shake of his head, Captain Tsavo said firmly, “This subject of conversation is closed.”
Pointing across the dinner table, Tray said, “You—”
“The subject is closed,” Tsavo repeated, louder.
Instead of sitting, Tray pushed his chair back and walked out of the dining room, followed by Para.
EXAMINATION
“He was implying that Kell and I had a homosexual relationship,” Tray growled, the instant he closed the hatch to his compartment.
Para said, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But it’s not true!”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Tray plopped himself down on the edge of his bunk. “I don’t want them thinking I’m a homosexual.”
Para took a step toward him. “Them? Or her?”
Tray stared at the android for a long wordless moment. Then, in a low voice, he admitted, “Her. Loris. I don’t want her to think I’m a homosexual.”
“It’s not a criminal indictment,” Para said. “There’s nothing wrong with a person choosing his or her sexual preferences.”
With a shake of his head, Tray said, “You don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. Can you explain it to me, please?”
Tray looked up at Para. “She might not like to think that I’m … that way. Even bisexual.”
The android lifted its shoulders in an imitation of a human shrug. “Human emotions can be puzzling.”
With a weak smile, Tray replied, “Even to humans.”
The bedside phone buzzed.
Tray reached out and touched its ON button. Mance Bricknell’s face appeared on its tiny screen.
“Mance.”
Bricknell’s face was deadly serious. “Tray, I just want you to know that I think what Tsavo did at dinner was pretty low.”
“You do?”
“I certainly do,” Bricknell said. “Guilt by innuendo. It’s something out of the Dark Ages. Despicable.”
Surprised, Tray stammered, “Th … thanks, Mance.”
“After you left, he just sat there at the dinner table, smiling like a hyena.”
Tray didn’t know what to say.
“He not only accused you, of course,” Bricknell went on. “He attacked the reputation of Jordan Kell, Balsam’s political rival. In fact, I think that was his real objective.”
“Kell’s dead,” Tray replied. “He’s beyond pain.”
“But by casting aspersions on Counc
ilman Kell’s reputation, Tsavo hits Kell’s supporters in the Council. It’s a political knife attack. The captain’s working for Balsam.”
Nodding, Tray said, “I guess it is.”
“Oh, they all say that there’s nothing wrong with homosexuality, but how many of them really believe that?” Bricknell went on. “How much support would Balsam himself lose in the Council if someone reported that he was a lover of men?”
“I … I don’t know. It would be pretty hard to believe, though. I guess.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that I thought Tsavo went too far—and his attack on you was for Balsam’s benefit.”
“Thanks, Mance. Thanks a lot.”
As Tray reached for the phone’s OFF button, Bricknell added, “Oh, there’s one more thing.”
“One more…?”
“I intend to ask Loris to marry me, sooner or later. I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from her.”
And the phone’s screen went blank.
Tray stared at the dead screen for long, silent moments, his mind in turmoil.
At last Para broke the silence. “A classic maneuver.”
Tray blinked at the android.
Para explained, “He tells you that he’s on your side, against Captain Tsavo and President Balsam. Then he tells you to keep away from Lady De Mayne because he wants to marry her.”
Tray nodded, still confused.
Para explained, “He binds you with gratitude, then tells you not to invade his turf. A classic human maneuver.”
“You mean he’s…”
“Trying to manipulate you,” Para finished the thought. “Rather cleverly, too.”
“I’ll be damned,” Tray muttered.
“Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t,” said Para. “Dr. Bricknell has constructed a very clever little trap for you.”
“About Loris.”
“Apparently so.”
“His call was really to warn me away from Loris. His words about Tsavo and Balsam were just a setup.”
“To within a ninety percent probability.”
Tray sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts whirling.
