Leviathans of Jupiter

But she found that she could not sleep. Tired from the heavy gravity though she was, she was too curious to fall asleep. She got up and went to the tiny swivel chair at the compartment’s built-in desk and switched on the computer again.

And there it was: Dossier, Dorik Harbin. Born in Montenegro, Earth. Parents, two sisters killed in ethnic cleansing. Joined local militia at age twelve. Recruited by International Peacekeeping Force. Quit IPF to join Humphries Space Systems as mercenary soldier. Convicted of destroying original Chrysalis habitat, killing one thousand seventeen men, women, and children. Sentenced to permanent exile from Chrysalis II and all other Asteroid Belt communities.

Deirdre stared at the words on the wall screen. Her blood ran cold. He’s been involved in death and murder since he was a child!

She watched the video of Dorik Harbin’s trial. He offered no defense. He seemed to expect to be executed, seemed to want to be killed. But then an elderly woman in a powerchair rolled herself up to the cyborg and pled for mercy, saying that he had completely changed his personality, begging the inhabitants of Chrysalis II to exile Dorik Harbin, not kill him.

The dossier stopped with the rock rats’ decision to exile Dorik Harbin. They had no further interest in Dorik Harbin. But Deirdre did. She was riding out to Jupiter with a mass murderer. He may say he’s a priest now but he has blood on his hands. She wanted to know a lot more about this Dorik Harbin, or Dorn, as he now called himself. A lot more.

KATHERINE WESTFALL’S SUITE

Katherine Westfall’s three-room suite was up near the top of Australia’s long, slim body, one level down from the captain’s quarters. The staff people she had brought with her were ensconced two levels lower, separated from Mrs. Westfall by “officer’s territory,” the compartments where the ship’s officers were quartered. Still, even her staff’s accommodations were much more spacious and sumptuously decorated than the compartments for ordinary passengers and the ship’s crew.

Katherine was reclining against a mound of pillows on her bed, gazing out through the glassteel port set into the bulkhead of her bedroom. Countless stars hung out there, brilliant jewels against the eternal darkness, steady and unblinking. Earth and its bleak, sad-faced Moon were far behind the ship as it hurtled through space toward distant Jupiter.

Her personal communicator lay on the bed beside her, its palm-sized screen displaying a star chart. Katherine was teaching herself astronomy, or trying to. The chart didn’t seem to match what she was seeing outside, though.

Her slim brows knitting in frustration, she thought she understood where the problem was. The stupid tutorial on the screen was displaying how the stars would look from the surface of Earth. The ship was in space, and many, many more stars were visible. Thousands of stars too dim to be seen through Earth’s thick atmosphere now glowed at Katherine, blanketing the outlines of the constellations that she should be finding.

Her frustration gave way to understanding. Too many stars, she told herself. God’s overwhelming me with more information than I need. It was a trick she had used herself, from time to time. Drown an investigator in data. Give them what they want, but bury it in so much information that they’ll never be able to find the pattern they’re looking for.

Katherine Westfall smiled at the stars. And she thought that an astronomy display that showed all the myriad of stars one sees in space, but highlights the stars that one would see from Earth, might make a decent profit for an entrepreneur who knew how to bring a new product to market. She filed the idea away in her mind, alongside other ideas that she had stored there. It’s never too late to make a profit, she reminded herself. I may be retired from the corporate world, but that doesn’t mean I have to stick entirely to philanthropy.

Philanthropy. The word jogged her back to reality. You’re not here to study astronomy, she told herself. You’re spending six precious weeks heading for Jupiter to do what’s needed out there. It’s time to cut them off. No excuses. No mercy. Take a good look around their research station and then send them all packing back to Earth. Take Archer down before he can make his move against you.

Grant Archer was a threat. The head of the scientific team at Jupiter was on the short list to be appointed the next director of the IAA, the position Katherine wanted for herself. Not merely a council member; she had to be the director. Had to be. She heard her mother’s voice in her mind: “Get to the top, Katie. Whatever you do, get to the top. You’re not safe until you’re on top.”

She knew that Archer and his staff of scientists were feverishly trying to complete a new submersible craft and send a crew of volunteers down into that murderous ocean. To study the leviathans. It was supposed to be a secret, but the scientists could keep no secrets from her. She had her sources of information in place aboard the research station.

He thinks that a successful mission to study those creatures will guarantee his appointment to the IAA directorship. He thinks he’ll be able to jump ahead of me.

Unconsciously, Katherine shook her head. Archer and his scientists may say they want to study those Jovian beasts, but what they’re really going to do is kill more people. Like they killed Elaine.

It had been a shock to Katherine Westfall when she discovered that she had a sister. Her mother had never told her of it. Not in all the years they had lived together had her mother once mentioned that she’d had another daughter, years before Katherine: Elaine.

Katherine discovered her sister’s existence the day after her mother’s funeral, as she went through the pitiful remnants that her mother had left behind. A scattering of photos, most of them obviously taken many years earlier, when her mother had been young and pretty, long before the years of toil had ground her down to a hard, suspicious shell of a gray-haired woman.

Two images in the computer file showed her mother with a baby. Only two images out of hundreds that had accumulated over the years. But those two images sparked Katherine’s lively interest because both dated from before her own birth. Who was this baby? Why was her mother cradling the infant so tenderly in her arms?

The advantages of wealth include the ability to buy information. Katherine used her corporate security office to hire private investigators and track down this mystery child.

She learned at last that her mother had borne a daughter to one of her earliest lovers, nearly ten years before Katherine had been born. The man was wealthy, powerful. He refused to marry her mother, but took the baby from her to raise as his own. Mother never saw her again, Katherine realized. That’s what made her so bitter. That’s why she was so wary when Katherine met Farrell Westfall. “Get him to marry you,” Mother had insisted. “Marriage or nothing.”

So she had married. And her mother had died wealthy and comfortable. And Katherine learned she had a sister.

Her sister was a scientist who had been at research station Thomas Gold, orbiting Jupiter. But now, Katherine had found, she was back on Earth. In a convalescent hospital in Ireland.

She had traveled halfway across the world to meet her sister and arrived exactly two hours too late. Elaine O’Hara had died at almost the moment Katherine had left Sydney. She had been in poor health physically and emotionally since she’d taken part in the ill-fated mission into Jupiter’s deep, seething ocean.

Jupiter had killed Katherine’s only sister.

No, she told herself as she lay on the bed in her luxurious stateroom aboard Australia. It wasn’t Jupiter that had killed her; it was the single-minded, blindly arrogant scientists who had sent her to her death.

She smiled to herself, coldly. The sister she had never known would become the excuse she needed to kill the scientists’ investigation of Jupiter. One way or another, she was going to send them all packing back to Earth. And if anyone questioned her motives, she could always tell them about her dear, martyred sister and point the finger of accusation at Archer and all the other heartless scientists who willingly sent innocents to their deaths.