Leviathans of Jupiter

the ship’s pharmacy but it wasn’t enough to save my patient. The virus had spread through her nervous system and into her brain.”

Deirdre fought down an urge to scream. Forcing her voice to stay calm, steady, she asked, “Could you produce enough of it to treat me?”

For a century-long moment Dr. Pohan did not reply. At last he steepled his fingers and said softly, “We can try, Ms. Ambrose. It’s a rather difficult synthesis, but we can try.”

“And if you can’t…?”

The doctor shrugged. “The alternative is to freeze you until we arrive at Jupiter. I’ve already contacted the medical officer at station Gold and he has instructed his staff to produce the medication. It will be ready for you when you arrive there.”

“Rabies,” Deirdre repeated, her voice trembling just a bit.

“It is very strange,” said Dr. Pohan. “Neither you nor the unfortunate woman who died was bitten or scratched by a rabid animal. She was from Selene, a well-respected biologist. Of course, she frequently visited Earth. She could have contracted the disease there.”

“And she died.”

“Apparently she had been infected some time before boarding this ship. The preboarding medical examination missed her condition entirely. The automated scans were not programmed to check for rabies, unfortunately. By the time she began to exhibit symptoms, it was too late to save her.”

“And she died,” Deirdre repeated, in a whisper.

Dr. Pohan put on his professional smile once again. “Please do not worry unduly. We have caught your case early. You will not die from it, I am almost certain.”

That word almost blared in Deirdre’s mind.

* * *

Deirdre walked like an automaton from the infirmary to the elevators and went blindly, unthinkingly, back to the dining room. It was closed: too late for breakfast, too early for lunch. It didn’t matter; she had no appetite.

How could I get rabies? she asked herself a few thousand times as she headed back to her stateroom. By the time she got there, the room had already been cleaned, the bed made neatly, the lavatory sparkling.

Deirdre plunked herself down on the spongy little chair in front of the compartment’s computer. Rabies, she repeated silently. She told the computer to look it up.

She heard a thump on her door. With a sigh, she got up and slid it open.

Dorn was standing there, his broad body filling the door frame. Behind him Deirdre saw Andy Corvus, grinning shyly at her, and Yeager, his smile almost a leer. Corvus was clutching a large aluminum box, gripping the handles on its sides in both his hands.

“We’re going down to the dolphin tank,” Andy said enthusiastically before any of the others could speak. “Wanna come with us?”

Deirdre blinked at him. “The dolphin tank?”

Yeager piped up. “The ship’s carrying six dolphins out to Jupiter. Andy wants to talk to ’em.”

“Come on,” Andy coaxed. “I’ll connect you to the dolphins if you like.”

The box he was holding was obviously heavy; she could see the tension in his arms. Why doesn’t he ask Dorn to hold it for him? Deirdre wondered. Or at least to help him carry it?

Dorn spoke up. “If we’re imposing on your privacy…”

“No,” Deirdre decided, “it’s perfectly all right. I could use a little diversion this morning.”

The four of them started down the passageway toward the elevators, Corvus lugging the big case all by himself.

* * *

Katherine Westfall was deep in discussion with Grant Archer, at the research station orbiting Jupiter.

The discussion, though, was not a conversation. Australia was still so far from Jupiter that it took electronic communications, traveling at the speed of light, slightly more than twenty-one minutes to span the distance between the ship and the Thomas Gold station. So their discussion consisted of alternating monologues. One would talk and then, some forty-two minutes later, the other could respond.

Archer’s serious, steady-eyed face filled the wall screen in Mrs. Westfall’s sitting room. As she reclined in a softly yielding chaise longue, she studied the scientist’s intense, oh-so-earnest expression. He’s rather good-looking, she thought. Boyish, almost, except for that gray little beard. Married. Happily, from what his dossier says. At least, he’s been married to the same woman for more than twenty years.

“… and although we’re considerably over budget in several areas,” Archer was saying, as if reading from a text, “I feel certain that once you’re here and have the chance to see what we’re trying to accomplish, you’ll agree that our work is too close to success to be inhibited by budget cuts.”

She smiled at him. Naive fool, she thought. Scientists are all alike. What I’m doing is so important that it mustn’t be stopped or even cut back. Money is no object. Of course it isn’t. It’s not their money that they’re spending.

Archer had stopped talking. His image stood frozen on her display screen. That meant that he was finished for the time being and was waiting for her reply to reach him.

Westfall did not need a prepared script. Keeping her smile in place, she said, “I’m sure that the work you’re doing is very important, Dr. Archer, but the economic facts of life must be taken into account, whether we like it or not.”

Sitting up a little straighter, she went on, “Your research work is funded out of the profits made by the scoopship operations, as you know. The market for scooping fusion fuels out of Jupiter’s atmosphere has leveled off. We are no longer expanding our construction of new fusion powerplants on Earth, and even the market for fusion torch ships has gone rather flat.

“That means that the profits have leveled off, and you can’t expect increases in your funding. I’m afraid there’s nothing that I, or you, or anyone can do about that. You must cut back on your budget, just like the rest of us.”

She hesitated, wondering inwardly, Should I let him know that I’m aware of this giant submersible he’s building? No, she decided. I want to see the shock on his face in person, up close.

She spoke a few more meaningless words of farewell, ending the discussion. The screen went blank gray.

Katherine Westfall leaned back in the couch as if exhausted by the morning’s exertion. But she was thinking, I know what he’ll do now. He’ll rush to get that submersible finished and send a crew back into the ocean before I can cut off his funding altogether.

He’ll push his people to their utmost. He’ll be in a sweat to go back into the ocean and kill more of his underlings. Just like his predecessor killed my sister.

Good, she thought. All to the good.

DOLPHIN TANK

It was like being underwater. The dolphin tank took up four entire decks of the torch ship: four levels had been ripped out and filled with salt water, their outer bulkheads reinforced to withstand the pressure. The central core, where the elevator and ship’s plumbing and electrical conduits ran, passed through the giant glassteel-walled tank.

Deirdre gasped in awe as she and her companions stepped out of the elevator cab. They were standing on a narrow circular platform, surrounded by the aquarium and its gliding, sinuous, colorful fish. She shivered slightly; the place felt chilly, and it smelled of a salty tang—clean, she decided. The air was cool and fresh, not like the other