Leviathans of Jupiter (43 page)

Vishnevskaya sensed someone entering the visitors' gallery up along the top of the control center's circular chamber. She didn't bother to turn around, but instead moved her head slightly so she could see the newcomer's reflection in the dark screen on her console.

It looked like Katherine Westfall. Vishnevskaya felt surprised. Why would Mrs. Westfall show up this early in the morning for something as routine as a data capsule?

*   *   *

“The mission time line calls for launching the capsule now,” said Dorn. “If we don't—”

“You can delay the launch for a few minutes, can't you?” Deirdre pleaded.

“Why?” Yeager demanded.

“Take out the color from the images the leviathans are showing,” she said.

“Take out—”

“I'm seeing images,” Corvus explained, his voice high with excitement even in the sound-deepening liquid perfluorocarbon.

Yeager frowned at him.

“I can't see colors, but I'm seeing pictures,” Corvus insisted. “Drawings. Like stick figures, almost.”

Dorn's face was impassive, but he muttered, “Canceling capsule launch.” His human hand reached for an orange-glowing button on his console.

Deirdre stared at her display screen while Dorn and Yeager leaned toward the central screen on the cyborg's control console.

Pointing over Deirdre's shoulder, Corvus said, “See? Can't you see the images?”

The swaths of color along the leviathans' flanks were now gray on the display screen. And Deirdre saw … pictures! Shapes. They were crude, almost like stick figures. But definitely shapes.

“That's the two of them!” she yelped.

“With us in between,” Dorn said. “That round figure must be us.”

“God
damn,
” Yeager breathed.

“And there,” Corvus said, “that must be a stream of organics coming down from up above.”

Now the displays on both leviathans' flanks showed many more creatures, a whole herd of them.

“They're telling us that they eat the organics,” Deirdre said.

“And there's lots of them!” Corvus added. “Dozens.”

“A hundred or so,” said Dorn.

As they watched, the leviathans' displays changed so rapidly they couldn't follow them. It was like watching a speeded-up video.

“The computer can slow it down,” Yeager said.

“Not yet,” Corvus snapped. “Let's get it in real time first.”

“Is all this being recorded in the data capsule?” Deirdre asked.

“Yes,” Dorn replied. “Automatically.”

Deirdre felt her whole body quivering with excitement. The pain in her chest was still there, she could still feel it, but it was nothing but a minor annoyance now. The leviathans are speaking to us! She could see the meaning in their imagery!

“That looks like those sharks,” Andy said.

“And that's us, rushing toward them,” Deirdre added.

Yeager muttered, “The charge of the frigging light brigade.”

“They're replaying our little battle,” Dorn said.

“But they don't show themselves splitting up, reproducing,” said Corvus.

“They don't do leviathan porn,” Yeager said, with the barest hint of a chuckle.

It was difficult to make sense of the images, they flickered on and off so rapidly. It looked like the two leviathans charging at the sharks, but it was too swift for Deirdre to be certain, the images of the sharks flicked off so quickly. Then at last she saw the circular image of their own ship and the two leviathans on either side of it. The sharks were gone.

“They've replayed our battle, all right,” Corvus said.

The leviathans' displays went blank. The enormous creatures swam on either side of
Faraday
in silence.

“What now?” Yeager asked.

“Maybe they're waiting for us to reply,” Corvus suggested.

“So what do we say?” Yeager demanded, “ ‘Greetings from planet Earth?' ”

“Replay what they just showed us,” Deirdre said.

“Replay their imagery?” asked Dorn.

Nodding, Deirdre said, “Show them that we received their message and we understand it.”

“We
think
we understand it,” Yeager corrected.

“At least show them that we received it,” said Deirdre.

“Very well,” Dorn agreed, turning back to his keyboard panel.

Andy's lopsided grin went from ear to ear. “Well, they're intelligent, all right. We've established that much.”

Dorn glanced at the mission time line displayed on the auxiliary screen on the left side of his console.

“We should have launched the data capsule ten minutes ago,” he said.

“Pop it now,” Yeager urged. “It oughtta make Archer and the rest of the scooters pretty damned happy.”

*   *   *

Linda Vishnevskaya stared at the digital clock display. Ten minutes, she realized. They should have launched the data capsule ten minutes ago. She felt a cold hollow in the pit of her stomach. Something's gone wrong, she knew. Something's gone terribly wrong.

Behind her, up in the otherwise empty visitors' gallery, Katherine Westfall got to her feet and quietly stole out of the mission control center. She couldn't suppress the victorious grin that curled her lips, despite the ache in her gut that still gnawed at her.

GRANT ARCHER'S OFFICE

Archer was shocked when he slid back the door to his office and saw Rodney Devlin sound asleep in one of his recliners. The Red Devil was snoring lightly; he was in his usual white chef's uniform, stained and wrinkled from use. Even in sleep his face looked lined with worry, his mustache bedraggled. In his right hand he tightly clutched his pocketphone. Glancing at his wristwatch, Archer confirmed that information from the first data capsule should be coming in within a few minutes. But what's Red doing in my office? he wondered. And how did he get in here?

Archer almost smiled at that last question. Red can go anywhere he wants to, the station director realized. He's got the combination to every lock in the station. Probably memorized every last one of them.

He made a polite little cough and Devlin snapped awake, sitting up so abruptly Archer feared he'd pop some vertebrae.

“Grant!” Devlin said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“What are you doing here, Red?”

With a slightly hangdog look, Devlin answered, “Hidin' out.”

“Hiding out? From whom?”

“Westfall's goons. They came after me last night. I think they were out t' kill me.”

Archer sank into the faux-leather armchair next to the recliner. “You'd better explain all this to me, Red. Slowly.”

His expression turning rueful, Devlin said, “Westfall wanted me t' provide her with some gobblers so's—”

“Gobblers? Nanomachines?”

“Right. She wanted—”

“And you got them for her? Gobblers?” Archer felt his insides begin to shake with fear. And anger.

“Relax, mate,” Devlin said, holding up both hands as if to shield himself from attack. “I told you I wouldn't do anything to harm the station. Remember?”

“But you provided her with gobblers!”

His old sly grin spreading slowly over his face, Devlin said, “I provided her with nanos, I did. But not what she wanted.”

“Then just what in blazes
did
you do?”

*   *   *

Linda Vishnevskaya drummed her fingers on the edge of the console. Nothing. No data capsule. They should have launched it fifteen minutes ago. We should be getting its beacon signal by now.

But there was nothing. No beacon from a data capsule. Nothing but silence in the nearly empty mission control center.

Vishnevskaya stared at the blank display screen as if she could make the capsule appear by sheer willpower. Nothing. Silence.

She waited another ten minutes. Then ten more, each second of the time stretching her nerves agonizingly.

Max, she thought. What's happened to you? Why haven't you sent out the capsule? What's going on down there in that damned ocean?

At last she could stand it no longer. With the reluctance of a woman facing a firing squad, standing on a gallows, staring death in the face, she clicked the intercom switch on her console and said in a low, choked voice, “Mission report: The first data capsule scheduled to be released from
Faraday
has failed to appear. Reason unknown.”

She heard her own words:
Faraday
has failed. Oh Max, Max, she thought, fighting down the sobs that rose in her throat. Max, has Jupiter killed you?

*   *   *

Devlin was still explaining himself when the phone on the serving table next Archer's recliner chimed. Glancing at the screen's data bar he saw that it was Katherine Westfall calling.

Archer leaned close to the phone's camera eye so that his image filled its field of view and commanded, “Answer.”

Mrs. Westfall's face looked positively haughty. Without a greeting or a preamble of any kind she said in an almost sneering voice, “I suppose you know that they've failed to send their data capsule.”

Archer stiffened. “No, I didn't know.”

“You realize what this means, don't you?” Westfall demanded. “Something's gone wrong down there.”

“Possibly,” Archer replied.

Westfall's face hardened. “Not merely
possibly
. They were scheduled to release a data capsule and they haven't done it. Something's gone wrong. They could be dead. If they are, it's your responsibility.”

Grant Archer pulled in a deep breath before replying. Then, “Perhaps you should come to my office. We can discuss this more fully here.”

“Yes,” Westfall agreed. “We need to discuss this disaster more fully, don't we?”

The phone screen went blank. Archer turned back toward Devlin, who was still sitting upright on the recliner.

“I'd better get outta here,” Devlin said.

“No, Red. You stay right where you are. I want you here when she comes in.”

Devlin's russet eyebrows rose toward his scalp. “I'd rather not, y'know.”

“I'm not asking you, Red,” Archer said, with steel in his voice. “I'm ordering you.”

*   *   *

Katherine Westfall didn't bother to summon any of her aides or security guards as she strode down the passageway toward Grant Archer's office. No need, she told herself. I'll have this moment all to myself. I want to savor the look on his face when he realizes that his career has been shattered.

Should I tell him that Elaine O'Hara was my half sister? No, she said to herself. That's none of his business. Keep the family connection out of it. But maybe I'll hint that the IAA will launch an investigation into his criminally negligent leadership that led to the death of four people. Once I'm chairperson of the governing council that's just what I'll do. I'll pay him back for my sister and make certain he'll never hold a scientific post anywhere in the solar system.

She looked forward to reaching Archer's office. Westfall felt strong, confident. If it weren't for the nervous twinge in her stomach, she thought, she'd feel absolutely perfect.

*   *   *

Red Devlin was fidgeting nervously as they waited for Westfall's arrival.

“You're certain that they were out to murder you?” Archer asked, still sitting on the little desk chair.

Devlin gave him a sour look. “They pop into my kitchen after midnight. Three of 'em. They weren't lookin' for my recipe for lemon meringue pie.”

“And why did you hide out here, in my office?”

Devlin brushed at his bristly hair. “Couldn't think of anyplace better. Figured they'd be watchin' the security cameras so they'd know where I went. I was hopin' that they wouldn't bust into your office. If they did, I was gonna phone you, send you a panic SOS.”

Archer nodded. “According to the security log, all the passageway cameras were turned off for a couple of hours, starting at midnight.”

Whistling between his teeth, Devlin said, “So there wouldn't be any evidence of them shovin' me out an airlock.”

“She got to the technician on the midnight shift,” Archer said, clear distaste on his bearded face.

“She can get to just about anybody, one way or th' other.”

“It looks that way, doesn't it?” said Grant Archer.

He tapped his phone console's miniature keyboard and saw Katherine Westfall marching along the passageway like a conquering empress. At least the surveillance cameras are back on, he thought.

Turning back to Devlin, Archer pointed as he said, “Red, get into the lavatory there. I'll call you when I want you.”

The Red Devil looked positively grateful as he hurried to the little room. He's frightened of confronting Westfall, Archer thought. Can't blame him; I'm not looking forward to this myself.

DEEPER

Andy Corvus glided over to Dorn's side. “Can you send them a picture about my DBS probe?”

The cyborg looked up from his console screens. “If you draw the picture for me I'm sure that I can run it on the outer hull's display lights.”

Nodding somewhat nervously, Corvus slid through the perfluorocarbon liquid to the console built into the curving bulkhead on Dorn's left. Deirdre disengaged her feet from the floor loops at her console and made her way past Max Yeager to stand at Andy's side.

“Can I help you?” she asked softly.

Corvus nodded without taking his eyes from his console's central screen. His attempt to draw a picture looked ragged to Deirdre, childish and uncertain.

“Here,” she said. “Let me.” She leaned across his lanky frame and poised her fingers above the arrow keys on his board. “What do you want to show?”

“I want them to understand that we're going to fire a probe into the hide of one of them.”