Leviathans of Jupiter (45 page)

It must know that already, signed the replicant.

Perhaps, Leviathan replied. We will see.

With that, Leviathan turned back toward the upper level where the alien was, its flagella members beating strenuously against the down-welling current.

*   *   *

Her feeding finished, Deirdre floated into the sleeping compartment. Once again the five shelves built into the bulkhead reminded her of the slots into which corpses are slid in a mortuary.

Pulling the hatch to the bridge firmly shut she quickly stripped off her maillot and pulled another from the slim storage locker beneath her bunk. Got to get this on before Max bursts in here, she told herself. If he sees me undressed he'd probably pop a blood vessel. She almost giggled at the thought of it. Max was all bluster, she thought. He'd be embarrassed if he saw me nude. She remembered Max's reaction when she had awakened in the station's infirmary after being frozen aboard the torch ship. Just the fleeting sight of her bare breasts had turned his face scarlet.

No sense embarrassing him again, Deirdre told herself. Then she added, No sense taking the risk that he'd be more aroused than embarrassed, either.

She slid into her coffinlike bunk just as Yeager tapped on the hatch and pulled it back.

“Are you decent?” he asked gruffly. “I hope not!”

“I'm already in bed, Max,” she said, staring at the metal overhead a few centimeters above her nose.

“Want some company?”

“No, thank you.”

“Um … I'm gonna peel off this swimsuit and get a fresh one,” Yeager said. “No peeking.”

Deirdre smiled to herself and echoed, “No peeking.”

After a few moments she heard Yeager slither into his narrow bunk and mutter, “Cripes, there's not even room to turn around in here.”

Deirdre said nothing. The pain in her chest was still there, throbbing dully, and she felt unusually tired. Weary. As if the weight of the world were pressing in on her.

Of course, she said to herself. It's the pressure. The pressure's going up as we dive lower. It's going to get worse. A lot worse.

She closed her eyes and commanded herself to sleep. You've got to rest, she thought. Relax. Think of something pleasant and just drift off to sleep.

She found herself thinking of what it would be like to have Andy in this tight narrow space with her. What it would be like to feel his body pressing against her. She fell asleep smiling.

GRANT ARCHER'S OFFICE

Archer had never seen the Red Devil look so shaken. Devlin was staring at Katherine Westfall as she lay across the recliner, blubbering uncontrollably. A bloodred scratch streaked Devlin's left cheek, his hands were still raised to defend himself.

“You've killed me,” Westfall was sobbing. “You've murdered me.”

“It would be a primitive kind of justice,” Archer said. “An eye for an eye, as it says in the Old Testament. You tried to murder the crew of
Faraday.
”

She looked up at Archer in a cold fury, her eyes blazing, her tears turned off just as abruptly as they had started.

“You can't prove that,” she said, her voice murderously low. “It's my word against his.”

“It doesn't matter,” said Archer. “This is never going to a court of law.”

Westfall suddenly clutched at her midsection. “The gobblers! They're tearing me apart!”

Archer turned to Devlin. “Tell her the truth, Red.”

Devlin was clearly nervous; when he looked down at Westfall he seemed positively frightened.

“W-well,” he stammered, “the, uh … the truth is—”

The phone chimed. Archer glanced at the screen and saw Michael Johansen's name on the data bar.

“Hold it,” he snapped. To the phone he called, “Answer.”

Johansen's narrow, angular face was alight with a big toothy grin and eyes crinkled with joy.

“They did it!” he fairly shouted. “Grant, they've made contact with one of the beasts. That's why they delayed sending up the capsule. They've communicated with the leviathans! They
are
intelligent. Those gigantic creatures are intelligent!”

Archer felt his knees go weak. He sank down onto one of the armchairs, suddenly breathless, overpowered.

“You … you're sure?” he gasped.

“I'm piping the raw data to you,” Johansen said, beaming. Archer had never seen the big Norwegian so riotously happy, his normal stiff self-control thrown to the winds. Behind Johansen other scientists were pounding each other's backs, hugging and kissing and almost dancing with excitement.

“It's true, then,” Archer breathed. “The leviathans are intelligent.”

“Intelligent enough to communicate with us!” Johansen exulted.

“And the crew? They're all right?”

“They're fine! They simply delayed sending the capsule because they were getting such terrific data.”

Archer nodded weakly. “Thanks, Michael. I'll look at the data and then call you back.”

The phone screen went blank, but the data download light beneath it flickered madly.

“What about me?” Westfall cried. “I'm dying!”

“Red, tell her the truth.”

Devlin brushed nervously at his ragged mustache while Westfall stared at him with her whole life in her eyes.

“Red,” Archer insisted.

“They're not gobblers,” Devlin said, his voice low, almost apologetic. “Torre wouldn't give me gobblers and I wouldn't ask for 'em.”

“Then what's eating me up?” Westfall demanded.

Looking even more flustered, Devlin said, “Torre gave me a batch of assemblers … the kind o' nanos that build new molecules outta atoms they find around 'em.”

Westfall sat up in the recliner, her tear-streaked face going hard, angry. “New molecules?”

Devlin nodded. “They're buildin' up in your stomach and intestines right now. They'll keep on buildin' up for a hundred hours or so. Then the nanos are programmed to shut down.”

“What are they building?” she demanded.

“Some carbon dioxide,” Devlin answered, almost mumbling. “Mostly methane.”

“Carbon dioxide? Methane?” She pronounced it
meethane.

Archer said, “You're feeling pressure in your abdomen, aren't you?”

She nodded.

“It's gonna get worse before it gets better,” Devlin said. “You're gonna be burpin' a lot, and … uh…”

“Flatulence,” said Archer.

Westfall leaped to her feet. “Flatulence?” she screamed.

“You're not gonna be very good company for the next few days,” Devlin said.

“It's harmless,” Archer added quickly. “Embarrassing, but harmless. Apparently Franklin Torre has a juvenile sense of humor.”

Some of the old deviltry returned to Devlin's face. “Gas attack,” he muttered.

“You bastards!”

Archer raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I had nothing to do with it, Mrs. Westfall.
You
ordered Red here to provide you with gobblers.
You
intended to feed them to Deirdre Ambrose, to kill her, to kill the whole crew of the submersible. That's attempted murder, four counts.”

She stared at the two men, open mouthed, eyes blazing. For a long moment the three of them stood in the center of Archer's office, facing each other. Then Westfall's expression changed, her eyes became wary, calculating.

“You can't prove a thing,” she said, her voice coldly furious. “It's my word against his.”

“And Dr. Torre's,” Archer added.

“There's no proof.”

Archer conceded the point with a curt nod. Then, “The IAA's governing council is very sensitive to scandal. Members of the council must be above reproach.”

“So that's what your scheme is,” Westfall said. “To kick me off the council. To get yourself elected chairman.”

Archer shook his head. “God forbid. All I want is to continue our work here. You saw what Johansen said: They've made contact with the leviathans. The creatures are intelligent! Compared to that, your little power game is child's play.”

“Then what
do
you want?”

“The freedom to continue our work here. To study the first intelligent alien species humankind has encountered.”

“And what about me?”

“You can go back to the council and get yourself elected chairman—as long as you don't try to slash the research budget.”

“Ahh.” Westfall looked almost pleased. “I knew you were after something.”

“I'm after knowledge,” Archer said. “I want to study an alien intelligent species. Learn about them. Teach them about us.”

“No matter who it kills.”

“No one's gotten killed,” he said, his voice steel-cold. “No thanks to you.”

“Your crew hasn't returned yet. They could still die down there.”

Archer started to reply, thought better of it, and said merely, “We're all in God's hands, Mrs. Westfall. Those who choose to seek out more knowledge about His universe might be risking their lives, but it's in the best cause of all.”

Westfall nearly sneered. “Religious claptrap.”

“Maybe,” Archer conceded. “But seeking knowledge has always been to the benefit of the human race, no matter what the risks.”

Drawing herself up to her full height, almost up to Archer's shoulder, Westfall said, “Very well. Continue your little games. I'll return to Earth and get myself elected chairman of the council.”

Archer smiled. “That's
your
little game. And you're welcome to it.”

She swept out of the office, almost as haughtily as she had entered it.

Devlin let out a low whistle. “You've made yourself a real enemy there, mate.”

“She was an enemy before she ever came here, Red. But we've got some control over her now, thanks to you—and her own blind ambition.”

Suddenly Devlin broke into a big grin. “Well, leastways, she's gonna be holed up in her quarters for the next few days, belchin' and fartin' to beat the band.”

Archer grinned tightly at the Red Devil. “Get back to work, Red. I've got to see what that data capsule's told us.”

LEVIATHAN

Its flagella working hard against the downward current, Leviathan's sensor members at last reported that the alien was close enough to observe.

It's a strange creature, Leviathan thought. Featureless, almost. Perfectly spherical. Its shell is hard, not like flesh. Even Leviathan's own armored hide members were not as stiff and inflexible as the alien's shell.

It's moving toward us, Leviathan realized. The alien was coming lower, following the downward current but slowly, agonizingly slowly. A trail of heated water emerged from its rear. Leviathan remembered the alien it had met so long ago, how it had sprayed scalding heat while Leviathan was carrying it on its back up toward the cold abyss from which it had appeared.

Studying the alien, Leviathan wondered, Can that hot jet be the way it propels itself? There were no flagella members on the alien. Perhaps it pushes itself through the water like the tiny squid do, squirting water through their nozzles.

The alien wasn't eating the food particles that drifted downward on the current. It doesn't graze, as we do, it realized. That arm that it wanted to connect to us must be for feeding. What else could it be?

Keeping its distance, Leviathan observed the alien as it slowly, painfully, pushed its way deeper into the realm of the Kin.

*   *   *

Deirdre awoke slowly. Blinking her gummy eyes, she heard Max humming to himself and realized he must be up and out of his bunk already. He's humming to let me know he's awake and I shouldn't slide out of my bed until he goes back to the bridge.

She lay there silently until she heard Max slide back the hatch to the bridge and then push it shut again. Then Deirdre slithered out of her bunk and floated to her feet. There was no need for washing, nor for a toilet. The liquid nourishment they took went directly into the bloodstream; the digestive system was inactive. They hardly had to use the complicated, sealed toilet, much to her relief. Running a hand over her scalp Deirdre remembered that there wasn't any point in brushing her hair; it had been cut too short to matter.

So, taking in a deep breath of perfluorocarbon, she went to the hatch that opened onto the bridge. Her chest still hurt, a dull sullen ache like a bruise inside her lungs.

The instant she slid the hatch back Yeager beamed at her and said loudly, “Ah, sleeping beauty is back among us.”

Deirdre smiled and glided to her station, to the right of Dorn. The cyborg disengaged his feet from the deck loops and said, “Time for Andy and me to sleep.”

“Eat first,” Corvus said, grinning.

Yeager nodded and took up Dorn's usual station at the control console.

“One of the beasts has returned,” Dorn told Yeager. “It's hovering out there, at the limit of our sensor range. It appears to be watching us.”

“Maybe it's hungry,” Yeager cracked.

Corvus shook his head. “It eats the organic particles. It's not interested in us.”

“Not for food,” Dorn said.

“I'll keep an eye on him,” said Yeager.

“Call me if anything changes,” Dorn said. “Anything at all.”

“Aye-aye, skipper,” Yeager replied, making a sloppy military salute.

Dorn grunted and turned toward the hatch to the sleeping area. Corvus trailed behind him. As he passed Deirdre, Andy asked in a near-whisper, “You okay, Dee?”

She nodded, despite the pain in her chest. “And you?”

“Can't seem to shake this headache.”

“Is it getting worse?”

He shrugged. “I've had it so long now it's hard to tell.”

“Maybe some sleep will make it better.”

“Maybe,” he said. Then he pushed away and swam through the hatch, leaving Deirdre alone with Yeager.