by Allen Steele
He could be wrong, but nonetheless he had a sense that she’d just given him a hint of how she might express her gratitude. Danzig didn’t respond, but instead slid open the door and left her quarters.
Captain Diaz was waiting in the foyer; she’d moved away from the door so that Evangeline couldn’t see her. She said nothing to Danzig until they reached the companionway, then she stopped him before they could begin the long climb back upstairs.
“You’ve heard her side,” she said quietly. “Now will you hear mine?” Danzig nodded. “All right. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but would you please let me take you to the command center? There’s something I’d like to show you.”
IV
LOCATED IN THE HUB, the command center was the Explorer’s largest single compartment. Shaped like an shallow bowl, its work stations were arranged in a circle around the control pit, with a ring of LCD screens suspended from its ceiling above them. Danzig seldom had a reason to visit the command center, but he enjoyed its spaciousness; it was one of the few places aboard which didn’t give him a cramped and claustrophobic feeling, particularly since the hub was in zero-g.
As he followed Captain Diaz through the hatch of the rotating carrousel which connected the hub with the ship’s rotating arms, Danzig saw that the screens were displaying images of the Galilean satellites as captured by the ship’s telescopes. He’d seen close-ups of Jupiter’s moons before, of course, but never in real-time. Here: an erupting volcano on Io, plumes of lava spewing upward from its hellish surface. There: sunrise on Ganymede, the immense, ice-covered scars of its surface cast into sharp relief by the coming of dawn. Little could be seen of Callisto save for a crescent moon; the Explorer maintained a geosynchronous orbit above the satellite which used it as a shield against Jupiter’s magnetosphere, so at this moment Callisto’s far side lay in darkness.
As always, Jupiter dominated the sky, frightening in its immensity. Like Callisto, only half of the planet was facing the sun from the Explorer’s current position, but nonetheless the gas giant’s night side was made visible by the tiny sparks of enormous thunderstorms perpetually raging in its upper atmosphere.
Danzig could have watched the screens all day, but Diaz hadn’t brought him there to admire the scenery. “This way,” she said, then she grasped a ceiling rail and used it to pull herself across the compartment. Danzig was glad that he’d left his cane outside the carrousel; he didn’t need it here, and it would have only been in the way. Grabbing hold of the rail, he let his feet float free as he followed the captain.
A dark-haired young woman was seated at a horseshoe-shaped console, her body kept in place by the leg bar of her ergonomic chair. “Hello, Captain,” she said as Diaz approached her, then she saw Danzig and her eyes widened. “Otto! I’d heard you were awake! Nice to see you again!”
“Thanks, Rita. Good to be back.” Danzig grabbed a foot restraint above Rita Jimenez’s console, then turned himself upside-down and slipped his feet into the rung so that he hung bat-like from the ceiling. Rita didn’t seem to mind; she was used to having crewmen performing gymnastics at her place of work. Danzig glanced past her at Diaz, who was hovering behind the Brazilian astrobiologist. “You wanted to show me something, Captain?”
Diaz tapped Rita’s shoulder. “Would you please bring up the last image captured by the DSV-1 camera?”
Rita’s smile vanished. She nodded, then typed a command into her keyboard. One of the screens directly above her station had been displaying Europa’s chaotic terrain; the screen changed, to be replaced by …
What was it? Danzig squinted at a blurry, out-of-focus image. Off-white and overexposed, it seemed to be a fish — or at least some sort of aquatic animal — captured in motion. He was able to make out what appeared to be a dark, beady eye and a small oval mouth in a blunt head, but the rest was indistinct: he had an impression of a tapering body with what looked like a dorsal fin, but the rest was lost in the jet-black background. Nothing about the creature was identifiable; it could have been anything.
“Is that what Evangeline says she saw?” he asked, then corrected himself. “Oh, right … she says she didn’t see anything.”
“Uh-huh.” Diaz didn’t look away from the screen. “This is the last image sent by DSV-1’s bow camera before we lost ELF telemetry.”
Danzig had to remind himself that ELF stood for Extra-Low Frequency. Although the expedition’s manned and robotic subs were tethered to the surface, Europa’s intense cold — an average of -1700 C at the equator — inhibited the use of fiberoptic cables. So low-band radio transmitters aboard were the only way information could be sent up from the subsurface ocean.
“In fact, it’s the only image,” Diaz added. “No other pictures of the creature were taken … if this is the creature, that is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rita …?” The captain turned to the astrobiologist.
“There’s no sense of scale.” Rita nodded toward the screen. “This thing could be twenty meters in length, or twenty millimeters … we don’t know because we can’t tell how close it was to the lens. The way it was lit by the forward floodlights suggests that it may have been very near, but —” she shrugged “—like I said, there’s no real way of knowing. Not without sonar or lidar contacts, at least, which we didn’t get.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Their arrays were pointed straight down so that the pilot could get a fix on what lay directly below the bathyscaphe. There’s always a risk of a collision with an ice shelf, even that far down. So if this thing came at the DSV from sidelong direction, it wouldn’t have been seen. But …” Rita looked up at the captain; Diaz nodded, and she went on. “A couple of things don’t add up. I think you need to listen to something.”
Reaching into a nylon pouch on her console, Rita pulled out a spare prong. She handed it to Danzig and waited while he fitted it into his right ear, then she typed another command into her keyboard. A rectangular window opened at the bottom of the screen: the wavefile of an audio track.
“This is the last transmission received from DSV-1,” Rita said. “It’s everything said in the sub just before the ELF failed.” She tapped the ENTER key and the red bar of the wavefile began to creep from left to right, spiking slightly with each sound.
“Thirty-seven fathoms, range seventy meters.” Evangeline’s voice, steady and routine.
Silence for four seconds.
“Oh, my … that’s interesting.” A male voice, mildly curious; its American accent indicated that it belonged to John Connick.
“I see that, yes. Want me to …?” Definitely Klaus Werner; his German accent was obvious.
Connick: “No, that’s all right. I don’t think we need to … y’know.”
Neither man was particularly excited. If anything, Danzig thought they sounded bored. Silence for two seconds. Then:
Connick: “Hey, what …?” Startled.
Evangeline: “Oh, my God! It’s …!” Clearly terrified.
Werner: “Evangeline, what …?” Surprised, but not scared.
A sudden bang, followed by a sharp snap. Then silence; the wavefile flatlined until it reached the audio track’s right margin.
“That’s it,” Rita said. “That’s all we got. But notice this …”
She pointed to the timestamp at the bottom right corner of the audio track: 01:34:03. “That’s when we lost telemetry … a little more than an hour and a half on the mission clock.” Then she pointed to the time stamp at the bottom of the video image: 01:34:01. “That’s when that picture was taken.”
Danzig shrugged. “Yes? So?”
“When we compared the timestamps to each other, we noticed that the video image was transmitted about two seconds after Evangeline reacted.” Danzig shook his head, not comprehending what she meant. “That means Evangeline was startled by something which she says she didn’t see and wasn’t captured by the camera until two seconds later.”
“Yes, but she says she knew
the creature was there because it hit the bathyscaphe.” Danzig thought about what he’d just heard on the audio. “Besides,” he added, “Connick reacted before she did. And he and Werner were the ones able to look outside.”
“No, not exactly … listen again.” Rita skipped back two seconds, and again Danzig heard Connick’s voice: “Evangeline, what …?” Rita stopped the wavefile. “Doesn’t that sound more like he’s about to ask her what she’s doing, not about anything that’s happening outside the sub?”
“You’re making an assumption.” Tired of looking at her upside-down, Danzig slipped his foot from the ceiling rung and did a half-gainer that put him rightside-up. “I’d like to know what’s led you to this, and where you think you’re going with it.”
Rita didn’t respond, but instead entered another command into her keyboard. A holo appeared in midair above her console: a three-dimensional image of something that looked a little like a shrimp, only much larger.
“Branchiotremata europum,” she said. “The Europan mariner, as we call it. The most common of the half-dozen or so creatures we’ve discovered so far, and also the largest. Remember when I said that the thing the DSV caught on camera might be only twenty millimeters long? Well, the mariner is about 150 millimeters in length.”
“Which makes them giants so far as the native fauna is concerned.” Diaz smiled. “Some of our people are even wondering if they could be steamed and eaten. I haven’t given them permission to do that, but it’s tempting.”
Rita ignored the captain. “If there’s something else down under the ice that’s big enough to attack a bathyscaphe, then it would have to subsist on a diet of mariners.” She shook her head. “In evolutionary terms, that doesn’t make sense. Size tends to be limited by available food supply, so …”
“That’s not all.” Clutching the ceiling bar, Diaz leaned forward to lay a fingertip against the translucent holo. She carefully moved her hand forward, repositioning the holo until it hovered a few centimeters in front of the screen. “Do you see?” she asked as she pulled her hand away. “The mariner looks a bit like what the camera caught, only out of focus. Like it swam right up to the lens and was photographed before it had a chance to autofocus.”
Danzig studied the two images for a few moments, absently tapping a forefinger against his lower lip. The woman waited patiently for him. From the corner of his eye, he happened to notice Dylan McNeil. The chief engineer was about to leave the command center, and it occurred to Danzig that he still hadn’t thanked him for saving his life. This wasn’t the time to go chasing after him, though.
“Do you mean to say,” he asked, “that Evangeline’s story is a hoax?”
Diaz traded a look with Rita; both women slowly nodded. “Yes, that’s what we think,” the captain said. “She deliberately jettisoned the lower hull with the two men aboard, then made up a story that the DSV came under attack.”
Danzig looked her straight in the eye. “So you think she deliberately murdered them?”
Diaz met his gaze without flinching. “Yes, I do … and so do many other people aboard.” Rita nodded in silent acknowledgement.
Danzig let out his breath. “That’s quite a severe accusation, Captain. What makes you think she’d want to kill those two men?”
“I don’t know exactly why, but there’s one more thing you should know.” Diaz lowered her voice. “A few months ago, while the ship was on the outbound leg, Chatelain had affairs with both of them … first Connick, then Werner. She slept with John for several weeks, and then dumped him for Klaus.”
“It put considerable stress on the science team.” Rita was also careful to keep her voice down. “John and Klaus wouldn’t speak to each other for awhile. I was afraid that they wouldn’t be able to get along well enough to cooperate once we reached Jupiter.” She shook her head. “We’re just lucky the little slut eventually got tired of Klaus, too. Otherwise the two of them wouldn’t have accomplished anything.”
“But she wasn’t able to get rid of them quite so easily,” Diaz said. “Connick continued to pursue her after she started sleeping with Werner. And when she dumped Werner, he too became obsessed with getting her back.”
“So you think …?” Danzig deliberately left his question hanging. As arbiter, he had to be careful not to put words from other people’s mouths.
“I think she was looking for a solution to her problem.” Diaz shrugged. “She didn’t want to have to deal with two jilted lovers for another eighteen months, so she found a way to get rid of them both.”
Danzig didn’t respond. Whatever Diaz, Rita, or anyone else might think of Evangeline’s behavior, though, this didn’t sound like a plausible motive for what amounted to a double homicide. But he wasn’t about to say this to her.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, “along with everything you’ve told me.” He paused. “With your permission, I’d like to question other members of the crew.” Danzig didn’t really need the captain’s permission to conduct an investigation. As arbiter, he had considerable leeway. But he gave her the courtesy anyway.
“By all means, yes, please do,” Diaz said. “However, I should warn you … most of the people you’ll probably want to talk to are on Europa.” A grim smile. “You may have to visit the scene of the crime, whether you like it or not.”
V
MEPHOSTOPHILIS APPEARED IN a blaze of fire and brimstone. He wore the scarlet doublet and purple cape of a Renaissance philosopher, and his horns protruded from within the sleek black mass of his hair. When he smiled, a pair of fangs were revealed at the corners of his mouth. No doubt he had trouble in mind.
“‘Now tell me,’” Danzig said, “‘what saith Lucifer thy lord?’”
Mephotostophilis’s red eyes glittered. “‘That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, so he will buy my service with his soul.’”
“‘Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee,’” Danzig replied, reading aloud the lines which scrolled upward from the carpeted floor of Faustus’s study.
Mephostophilis walked closer, his cape billowing out from behind him. “‘But now thou must bequeath it solemnly and write a deed of gift with thine own blood, for that security craves Lucifer. If thou deny it I must back to hell.’”
“‘Stay Mephostophilis and tell me … ’”
He was interrupted by a disembodied voice. “Sorry to interrupt your play,” Kevin said, “but we’re about fifteen minutes away from making atmospheric entry.”
“Roger that.” Danzig looked at Mephostophilis. “Want to save this for later?”
The devil grinned. “Sure. Why not?”
Danzig reached up to the upper right corner of his field of vision, pressed the translucent blue O floating in midair. Mephostophilis vanished, this time without any fanfare; Danzig pressed the X hovering in the upper left corner, and the walnut-paneled room disappeared, to be replaced by the shuttle’s flight deck. Kevin Hookset didn’t look away from the controls; the pilot’s hands were fastened around the yoke, his eyes focused upon computer screens and digital readouts. On the other side of the cockpit windows, Europa was a vast white plain criss-crossed by streaks of blue, its sparse oxygen atmosphere visible as a thin haze above the limb of its horizon.
“That was fun.” Evangeline had already removed her game goggles; she smiled at Danzig as she tucked them into the cargo bag beneath her seat. “I think I like Marlowe better than Shakespeare.”
“Uh-huh.” Danzig took off his own goggles and stowed them beneath the seat. “Doctor Faustus isn’t as well-known as Macbeth or Hamlet, but it’s easier to play …”
“Can you talk about that later?” Kevin asked, barely looking at them. “If you’re going to get into your suits before we land, you need to go below. Otherwise you’ll have to wait until we’re on the ground.”
“Right. Sorry.” Danzig unfastened his harness and pushed himself out of the passenger seat. “Better hurry,” he said to Evangeline as he took hold of the ceiling rail and pulled himse
lf toward the floor hatch. “The less hassle we have …”
“I know.” Annoyance flickered across her face. “I’ve done this before … remember?”
Danzig hid his embarrassment by ducking head-first down the hatch. He’d forgotten for a moment that Evangeline had already made the two-day trip from Callisto to Europa. Indeed, she should be leading the way to the shuttle’s lower deck, not him. But she didn’t seem to mind, or at least no more than she’d objected to returning to Europa.
Just as Diaz predicted, Danzig had learned little from questioning the other crewmen aboard the Explorer. They confirmed that Evangeline Chatelain had affairs with both John Conniker and Klaus Werner and had ended both relationships before the ship reached Jupiter, but couldn’t tell him much more than that. Margaret Harris had been particularly vivid, though. Evangeline evidently preferred having men sleep with her rather than vice-versa, and since Maggie lived next door, there wasn’t much that she didn’t hear coming through the bulkhead dividing their quarters. She also told Danzig that she’d frequently found either John or Klaus in the bathroom shower … sometimes by themselves, but usually with Evangeline. At first Maggie had been amused — she’d had a couple of bedmates herself, she reluctantly admitted — but in time she became irritated by Evangeline’s behavior.
Maggie was convinced that Evangeline had deliberately killed her former lovers, and she wasn’t alone in her opinion. Danzig noticed that the most of the women believed Evangeline was guilty. The men seemed more willing to consider the notion that she might be innocent, although there was no consensus; Danzig still hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with Dylan McNeil, and Walter Mahr and Jose Amado were both at Consolmagno Base. But the expedition’s female majority had clearly come to dislike Evangeline even before Conniker and Werner were killed.
The reason was obvious. Martha Phillips told him, albeit reluctantly, that most of the women and several of the men aboard the ship had requested abstinence drugs; not wanting any unwanted sexual urges to distract them from their work, they’d chosen celibacy during the three-year mission. So seeing one of their own repeatedly lure men into her bunk provoked both jealousy and contempt among the expedition’s female members. Rita Jimenez wasn’t the only woman to call Evangeline a slut; Kirstin Bigelow, the life support chief, had even gone so far as to claim that she was a black widow, psychotically compelled to murder the men who’d made love to her.
