Licking his lips nervously, Yeager said, “This is it.”
Dorn agreed with a solemn nod, and gestured with his human hand for Yeager to go in ahead of him.
The engineer hesitated. “Maybe we oughtta knock or something.”
Before Dorn could reply, Archer looked past the two arrivals and spotted Yeager just outside the doorway.
“Dr. Yeager,” he called. “Right on time. And you brought Dorn with you. Good!”
Archer came up and shook hands with Yeager, then with Dorn. Yeager saw there was no desk in the office, no hierarchical arrangement of any sort. Just an assortment of chairs that looked as if they’d been cribbed from a used furniture store.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Archer said, taking one of the recliners. He introduced the two other men as Michael Johansen, head of the station’s Jovian studies department, and Isaac Lowenstien, chief of the safety and life-support department.
Mike and Ike? Yeager asked himself. Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?
It wasn’t. Johansen was tall, his long legs stretching under the coffee table in the middle of their chairs. He had a long, narrow face with sharp, angular features and a scattering of freckles so pale they were almost yellow. His hair was the color of straw and baby-fine, wispy. His eyes were steel blue. A Viking’s eyes, Yeager thought. Piercing. No nonsense.
Lowenstien, on the other hand, was a small, swarthy, intense man with tightly curled midnight-dark hair, smoldering jet-black eyes and a six-pointed star tattooed on the back of his right hand. Refugee, Yeager recognized. Must be third generation: His grandparents probably got killed when Israel was wiped out. They never forget.
Both Mike and Ike were staring hard at Yeager, like a pair of police detectives about to grill a suspect. Yeager felt as if he were sitting on a hard cement block instead of a cushioned armchair. Perspiration trickled down his ribs. This is going to be an inquisition, he knew.
Archer was sitting straight up in his recliner. But he smiled easily as he said, “We’re here to review the status of the submersible and see if it’s ready for a crewed mission.”
Lowenstien immediately said, “The vehicle hasn’t been flown yet. You can’t risk a human crew in an untried vehicle.” His voice was sharp, cutting.
Before Yeager could object, Johansen clasped his bony hands around his knees and looked up at the ceiling as he said in a slow drawl, “We’ve obtained as much data as we can from uncrewed missions. If we’re to make any progress in understanding the leviathans we need a human mission.”
Archer scratched at his trim little beard. “I find that I agree with both of you.” He turned to Yeager. “Dr. Yeager, what do you have to say?”
Max had to swallow hard before he could find his voice. So what do I have to say?
“As you know,” he began, stalling for time to arrange his thoughts, “I’ve spent the past five years in Selene designing the
“From four hundred million kilometers away,” said Lowenstien.
“The data’s the same, no matter what the distance,” Yeager shot back. “But, you’re right, yesterday was the first time I’ve seen the ship firsthand.”
“And?” Archer prompted.
“She’s a beauty,” said Yeager.
“Have you gone aboard it?” Lowenstien demanded.
“Not yet. But I checked out all her systems from the command center. She’s ready to fly.”
Johansen said, “Then we should start the procedures to pick a crew.”
Lowenstien objected. “We shouldn’t risk a crew until the vehicle has demonstrated that it’s safe to operate.”
Archer said, “There’s some urgency in this. We need to get a team down there before the IAA decides to hold us up.”
“For very valid safety reasons,” Lowenstien said.
“But if all the ship’s systems check out,” Archer countered, “then why should we hesitate? This isn’t the dark ages, when test pilots had to try out new aircraft because they didn’t have computers to simulate their performance.”
“Simulations,” Lowenstien said, “are not actualities.”
Yeager said, “Now wait a minute. The whole point of this exercise is to send a human team down to the level where those giant whales live.”
“And get them back alive,” Lowenstien added. Johansen nodded.
“And get them back alive,” Archer said, “before the IAA steps in and strangles us with red tape.”
Johansen looked worried. “Do you think they would really try to stop us? Why?”
“We’re risking human lives here,” Lowenstien said.
Archer said, “Mrs. Westfall seems to be afraid of that. She’s just as much as told me that she’ll do everything she can to stop us from sending a human team in.”
“May I say something?” Dorn asked.
They all turned toward the cyborg.
“I presume that I will be one of the crew,” he said.
“You don’t have any scientific training,” Johansen objected.
“Yes, but I’ve had considerable experience piloting spacecraft.”
“Not the same thing at all,” said Johansen.
“And,” Dorn added, “I apparently am better able than others to withstand the pressures that the crew will face.”
That stopped them. For several moments the office was dead quiet.
Then Archer asked, “What is it you want to say?”
“I’m willing to ride in Dr. Yeager’s vessel. I have confidence in his design.”
Johansen smiled palely at the cyborg. Lowenstien looked faintly disgusted.
“We appreciate your courage,” said Archer.
“Not courage,” Dorn corrected. “Curiosity. I want to learn about those gigantic creatures. I want to see them face to face.”
The discussion droned on for more than an hour. Johansen even began to argue that they should be spending more time on classifying the various species living in Jupiter’s atmosphere, rather than focusing all their efforts on the leviathans. Yeager decided to head them off before they got themselves too deeply involved in what he considered to be a sideline issue.
“All right,” he said, his nervousness gone now that he knew what had to be done. “We send the vessel into the ocean on an automated mission. No crew. We put her through the exact conditions she’ll have to face with a crew aboard. If she gets through that without a problem, then we’ll be ready for a human mission. Right?”
Archer turned from Yeager toward Johansen and Lowenstien. Each of them nodded agreement. Johansen seemed reasonably compliant about the idea, Yeager thought; Lowenstien wary, almost suspicious.
KATHERINE WESTFALL’S QUARTERS
“So they’re going to send the submersible down there unmanned?” Katherine Westfall asked.
Deirdre nodded. “That’s the plan.”
Westfall had draped herself across the sitting room’s chaise longue, clad in a skintight pair of glittering gold toreador pants topped by an emerald green silk jacket. Her sandals were crusted with gems: Deirdre wondered if they were real jewels. As usual, Westfall looked as if she had arranged herself to have her portrait snapped.
Sitting in an armchair facing her, Deirdre felt almost scruffy in her dark gray pullover blouse and lighter slacks. The coffee table between them was bare. Westfall had offered no refreshments of any kind for this midnight meeting.
“You’re certain of this?” Westfall asked, almost accusingly. “This information is reliable?”
“I got it from Dr. Yeager, the man who designed the vessel. He’ll be in charge of the mission.”
