Leviathans of Jupiter

Deirdre nodded. “It’s a powerful experience.”

Straightening her spine, Westfall said, “Be that as it may, I expect you to find out what the scientists are hiding.”

“But they’re not—”

“They are,” Westfall snapped. “And if you value your life you will find what it is and report it immediately to me. Immediately!”

With that, Westfall turned and strode up the passageway, leaving Deirdre standing there, stunned and frightened.

ATTACK

Faraday watched as the group of predators split precisely in two. Half of the sharklike beasts continued on the course that the pack had been following; the other half was speeding directly toward Faraday.

Calculating their speed as they approached, Faraday’s central computer estimated that it could outrun the predators, if necessary. The beasts were big, several of them slightly longer than Faraday’s own diameter. The programming’s primary directive of self-preservation flared to the top of the computer’s priorities, replacing the directive to find and observe the leviathans. The human analog program pulled up another aphorism: “Those who fight and run away live to fight another day.”

Faraday awaited the predators’ attack.

The beasts swarmed all around Faraday, completely englobing the vessel as they swam sleekly in slowly tightening circles. Faraday made no effort to evade them; the vessel merely maintained its course heading and speed.

Closer and closer the predators glided. Faraday’s sensors studied them intently while the central computer ordered a fresh data capsule be prepared for launching.

Each of the predators had a row of glistening circular objects running the length of its body. Faraday assumed they were visual sensors. Checking its own auditory receivers, the central computer realized that the predators were sending out sound waves, possibly using them as sonar to measure Faraday’s size and distance.

Suddenly one of the beasts darted in toward Faraday on a collision course. It pulled up at the last instant and merely brushed against the vessel’s metal hull. Faraday’s sensors measured the force of the impact; internal monitors reported that no damage had been inflicted.

Another of the creatures bolted in and banged harder against the hull. Then a third, harder still. Internal monitors registered the jolt. Central computer’s decision tree showed that if the impacts increased in strength it would be necessary to initiate defensive maneuvers.

A human brain, awash with emotions, would have felt fear, and perhaps curiosity. Why were these predators banging into the vessel? What was their objective? It must be clear to them that the vessel is not edible: It can’t be prey. Why were they attacking?

Faraday’s central processor, though, merely recorded the attack so that the data capsule could send off the information once it was launched.

From several rungs down the priority directives came the conclusion that the other half of the predators, those that had continued on their original course, must still be tracking the leviathans. But that was of secondary interest now. Self-preservation was most important. That, and getting all this new data out on a capsule so that the human directors could benefit from it.

Another predator slammed into Faraday, hard enough to throw four internal pressure monitors off-line for 3.0025 seconds. Puzzling behavior. Checking the decision tree again, central computer found that it was time to test the theory that the predators were behaving territorially.

Faraday activated its secondary propulsion system, leaping upward on a jet of superheated steam. The predators bolted out of the vessel’s way and Faraday left them far behind, milling about, emitting sound waves on at least four different frequencies. They avoided the plume of steam that the vessel spurted out, sensors reported.

Faraday checked the data capsule, making certain that all these observations were filed in its memory core, then released the capsule.

At the extreme range of its sensors, Faraday saw that the predators who had attacked it had now re-formed into a group and were heading in the same direction as they had been before they broke off to attack. Their speed was much higher than before. If a computer could be surprised, Faraday’s central processor would have whistled with astonishment.

CONTROL CENTER

Linda Vishnevskaya twitched with surprise. She sat at her console in the control center, alone except for the forlorn figure of Max Yeager, dozing in one of the visitor’s chairs up by the curving bulkhead. The rest of her crew were not needed; no data capsule from Faraday was expected for another twelve hours. She could have left the center completely unattended; if anything happened the comm system would automatically alert her.

But she sat stubbornly for hours at the console, knowing that nothing was going to happen, but unwilling to take the chance that an emergency might arise that would need her immediate attention.

Yeager hovered around the consoles endlessly, taking only brief breaks. He even brought trays of food in, littering the area where he sat with crumbs and emptied cartons. Vishnevskaya at least had the good sense to take an hour for each mealtime and go to the galley before she hurried back to her console.

She was half drowsing when the message light began flashing and the audio pinged. Startled, she saw the main screen automatically power itself aglow and a list of alphanumerics began scrolling across it.

A data capsule! Unscheduled. Vishnevskaya realized something unusual must have happened down in that deep, dark ocean of Jupiter.

She started to turn to shout the news to Yeager, but saw that the burly engineer was already standing at her shoulder, peering intently at the symbols flashing across the screen.

“What’s gone wrong?” he demanded, his voice hoarse, growling.

* * *

Andy Corvus was swimming with the dolphins again. The aquarium was big, filled with fish that everybody said were bright and colorful, but to Andy they were merely varying shades of gray. And the sleek, grinning dolphins chattering to each other. The translator built into Andy’s face mask picked up only a few words:

“Squid below … warmer … fast current…”

Baby was growing fast, he realized. He almost failed to recognize her as the young dolphin glided up toward him.

“Hello, Andy.”

“Hello, Baby!” he said, happy that she was speaking to him.

“Race?”

Andy shook his head, not an easy thing to do in the water with the breathing mask. “You always win. You’re too fast for me.”

Something like mirth seemed to emanate from Baby’s whistling reply. The translator told him, “You’re slow, Andy.”

“I do the best I can.”

“Two legs not good.”