Leviathans of Jupiter (28 page)

So she felt more than a little trepidation as she approached the immersion center, Andy at her side. Deirdre had searched station
Gold
's storerooms for something to wear in the immersion tank and found a black maillot which, the logistics clerk assured her, was considered very fashionable swimwear back Earthside. It had been left at the station by a planetary physicist who had gotten herself pregnant and transferred back to Selene.

Wearing a white terry cloth robe over the one-piece swimsuit, Deirdre had gone with Andy down to the immersion center.

“Nervous?” he had asked her as they walked along the passageway.

“A little,” she admitted, shaving the truth considerably.

“I'll have to go through this, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“But not today,” Corvus said. For once, Andy looked dead serious. As they walked down the passageway leading to the immersion center, his slightly uneven face was set in a tight expression of concern.

Deirdre said, “I watched some videos last night of people scuba diving back on Earth. It looked like fun.”

“It's fun swimming with the dolphins,” he said, trying to sound brighter.

They reached the double-door entrance to the immersion center. Corvus reached for both handles and slid the doors open.

“Well, after you're finished they want me to go in,” he said.

Deirdre smiled gently at him. I'll be the test subject for you, she said to herself. After you see me get through it, then you'll have the courage to do it yourself. But then she thought, If everything goes right. If there aren't any problems.

Half a dozen people were waiting for them by the immersion tank. Deirdre saw what looked like a modest-sized swimming pool, glowing with light from below its surface that cast strange rippling shadows on the overhead.

But Dorn was nowhere in sight. The cyborg had promised Deirdre that he'd be present to lend her moral support. But he wasn't there. Deirdre felt disappointed, almost betrayed.

A short, stocky, dark-skinned man in a crisp white laboratory coat came up to her and brusquely extended his hand to Deirdre.

“I am Dr. Vavuniva,” he said. “I am in charge here.”

“Deirdre Ambrose.”

“Yes. Of course.” Vavuniva looked cranky, impatient frown lines creasing his forehead. His dark eyes shifted toward Corvus. “And you?”

“Andy Corvus. I'm scheduled for a dunking this afternoon.”

“Dunking?” Vavuniva snapped. “This is not a frivolous matter, Dr. Corvus.”

“No,” Andy quickly agreed. “Of course not.”

A pretty young woman with a digital clipboard stepped between Deirdre and Dr. Vavuniva. Deirdre saw that she was wearing a colorful flowered dress beneath her white lab coat. She was no taller than Deirdre's own shoulder, and there was a delicate little flower tattooed on her golden cheek.

“You have viewed the orientation video?” she asked, proffering the clipboard.

“Yes,” Deirdre said, nodding as she signed the form with the attached stylus.

The other technicians were all men, mostly young: Deirdre's own age, she thought. One of them, a gangling blond youngster, seemed hardly out of his teens. He was staring openly at her. Deirdre smiled at him, and the youngster actually blushed.

Corvus stepped up and put himself between Deirdre and the technician, frowning at the kid. Oh Andy, Deirdre thought, none of the guys can get within ten meters of me without you or Dorn or Max shooing them away. She sighed inwardly. It's good to have protectors, but still …

The young technician opened the gate in the railing that circled the pool. “This way, Ms. Ambrose,” he said.

The Polynesian woman handed her a belt of weights. “You'll need this,” she said softly. “We've adjusted it for your weight.”

Deirdre thanked her and, opening her robe slightly, slipped the belt around her waist and clicked its catch. She stepped up to the gate, then pulled off her robe. The young technician gaped at her. She heard one of the other men whistle softly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andy bristling.

Vavuniva seemed angered by it all. “Into the tank,” he said brusquely.

As she pulled her snug-fitting hood over her hair, Deirdre smiled at the men's reaction. Her swimsuit covered her from neck to crotch, although her arms and legs were bare. The suit was dead black but fit her snugly. She could feel her nipples straining against the fabric. Stepping over the rim of the pool and putting a foot into the water, she felt disappointed that nobody in the whole station had been able to make a pass at her since she'd arrived. Except for Max, of course, but he didn't really count: Max was all talk.

She glanced over her shoulder at Andy, who was now himself staring goggle-eyed at her. Good! Deirdre thought. He's got normal male reactions.

The water felt cold. As Deirdre started to climb down the ladder she remembered that this wasn't really water, it was liquid perfluorocarbon. She was going to have to breathe in it.

The pretty Polynesian woman leaned over the railing and reminded her, “You'll gag at first. Everybody does. It's a normal reflex. Don't panic. Just try to relax and breathe as normally as you can.”

Deirdre nodded, thinking that it's easy to give advice. I wonder if she's ever gone into this soup. I wonder if any of them have. I'll bet that officious little Dr. Vavuniva's never even put a toe in this stuff.

The liquid was chilling, and somehow cloying, slimy. Deirdre forced herself to slowly descend the ladder, rung by rung. The liquid came up to her hips, her waist, her breasts, her shoulders. Another step and it'll be over my head, she realized.

Glancing up, she saw Vavuniva's dark face looking nettled, annoyed. And Andy beside him, watching her with his soft blue eyes, looking as if he'd lean over and pull her out if he thought that's what she wanted.

She smiled at Andy, then ducked her head into the liquid. The hood kept her hair dry. She blinked her eyes and found that she could see perfectly well. She held her breath, though. All well and good to claim that you could breathe this liquid, but Deirdre's body didn't really believe that.

Don't panic, she told herself. Plenty of other people have done this. Dr. Archer did, lots of others. Dorn, too. Why isn't he here, as he said he'd be?

Her lungs were burning. She had to breathe! Don't panic. Don't panic, she screamed silently. Take a breath, a deep breath. But her body refused to obey her mind's command. Deirdre squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly wishing that she were with her father back home, safe, warm, breathing normal air …

Involuntarily, she sucked in a breath. And gagged. Coughing, sputtering, her body arched painfully. And she realized that she was breathing! Her mouth open and gasping, Deirdre was breathing the liquid perfluorocarbon. It felt cold and oily and completely awful, but she could breathe it.

Her hands let go of the ladder rung and she sank gently down toward the bottom of the tank. Looking down, she saw there was a console of some sort set up down there. And someone sitting at it, looking up at her.

“Welcome,” said Dorn, his voice magisterially deep in the perfluorocarbon liquid.

FARADAY

Sure enough, the predators had led
Faraday
to the leviathans. One sensor set after another confirmed that a huge agglomeration of the gigantic creatures was moving steadily through the dark sea in a massive spherical formation. The predators themselves had slowed their own advance and remained at a considerable distance from the leviathans.

Faraday
's human analog program projected an image of lions hunting on a wide, grassy plain on Earth. Their prey was a herd of spiral-horned antelope, off in the distance, loitering by a sluggishly moving stream. The tawny beasts hunkered down in the long, waving yellow grass, crawling slowly on their bellies to get close enough to the herd to attack and kill. As some of the antelope stooped to drink, other members of the herd stood alert, ears twitching, sniffing the wind for a scent of danger.

An analogy,
Faraday
's central computer understood, programmed into the memory core to help the computer to recognize what its sensors showed of the alien undersea world.

The sharklike predators swam off to one side of the huge spherical formation of leviathans. They stayed the same distance from the outermost periphery of the herd, content to wait. For how long? Central computer's forecasting subprogram did not have enough data to make a meaningful prediction. But the time line showed that
Faraday
's mission was almost at its conclusion. Already the countdown for returning to the orbiting research station had started ticking.

A human observer would have found the situation maddeningly strange. The predators were following the leviathans' spherical formation, neither coming closer to their prey nor abandoning their long chase. The leviathans showed no indication that they recognized the danger lurking nearby.

One minute left in the mission, the time line showed. Main propulsion drive activated: intake valves open, fusion powerplant ramping up to heat the intake water into plasma. Propulsion jets ready and on standby.

Suddenly the spherical formation of leviathans shifted, split apart into two separate halves. From the core of the formation a mammoth leviathan glided purposefully outward, its flanks flashing colors that shimmered through the water.

Like a school of fish, the predators immediately turned as one unit toward the creature that was emerging from the leviathans' formation.

Faraday
's priority hierarchy demanded that a fresh data capsule be prepared. This kind of behavior had never been observed before. The major priority, second only to self-survival, was to send this data back to mission control.

The time line showed forty-seven seconds left in the mission. Central computer concluded it could carry the data to mission control without risking a data capsule launch. But the priority hierarchy insisted that a capsule be launched. Redundancy, central computer recognized. Better to have the data relayed to mission control twice than not at all. If
Faraday
became incapacitated, unable to get out of the ocean, the data capsule would still deliver the information to mission control.

That decision took fourteen nanoseconds.
Faraday
ran a final diagnostic check on its main propulsion system even while its sensors showed that a huge leviathan was leaving the protective formation of its group and heading away from them, alone.

The predators slowly, warily approached the lone leviathan as it glided majestically away from its kin.

Twenty-five seconds to propulsion ignition, central computer's time line showed. Data capsule programmed and ready for launch.

The lone leviathan began to shudder as it swam away from its fellows. Part of the huge beast separated from its main body and floated aimlessly away. Not for long, though. One of the predators broke from its formation and slashed at the separated piece with scimitar-sized teeth.

The predators swarmed over the lone leviathan, tearing at it, while the rest of the leviathans swam slowly away, as if nothing were happening.

Launch capsule, central computer commanded. Ignite main propulsion drive.

Faraday
launched the data capsule and milliseconds later lit up its main drive. Superheated steam drove the spherical submersible upward like a pellet fired from a rifle while the predators tore at the lone leviathan and the rest of the herd of gigantic creatures moved steadily away from the scene of the carnage.

MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM

Grant Archer stood at the head of the conference table and looked at the various department heads arrayed along its length, chatting in muted tones with one another. Down at the foot of the table sat Max Yeager, looking wary, almost suspiciously, at the scientists flanking him on either side. At least Yeager looked presentable; he had shaved and put on some fresh clothes.

Katherine Westfall sat at Archer's right; she seemed mildly bored. Three of her aides were seated along the wall behind her.

“Let's come to order, please,” Archer said, tapping the tabletop with a fingernail. The various conversations stopped; all heads turned toward him.

“We're here to review the results of
Faraday
's mission,” Archer said. Making a slight bow toward Westfall, he added, “And we're honored by the presence of a member of the International Astronautical Authority's governing council.”

One of the scientists clapped her hands lightly and immediately the rest of them joined in. Westfall smiled demurely and raised her hands in a modest signal to silence them.

“
Faraday
returned three days ago,” Archer resumed, “apparently undamaged. We'll review the significance of the data it carried back with it, but first I want to ask Dr. Yeager how his examination of the vessel's systems has gone.”

Yeager had indeed shaved and scrubbed for this meeting. His long hair glistened as if he'd just stepped out of a shower. He was wearing a spanking new tunic and slacks of a golden brown sandy hue, yet they somehow looked wrinkled and baggy on him as he got up from his chair.

Pointing a palm-sized remote at the wall screen to his right, Yeager said, “I could spend a few hours going over all the details.” The screen showed schematics of
Faraday
's layout. “But the long and the short of it is that the ship performed well within specifications. All systems worked as designed; even though she took a bit of a battering from the sharks, there was no significant damage.”

“
Significant
damage?” Westfall picked up on the word.

Yeager forced a smile for her. “By that I mean there wasn't any damage at all. All systems worked fine. She went down to her design limit depth—”

“How deep is that?” Westfall asked.

“One thousand kilometers below the surface,” Yeager replied. A little sheepishly, he added, “Actually, she bottomed out at nine hundred and fourteen klicks.”