Leviathans of Jupiter

He decided the answer was more than he could hope to achieve at the moment. But as he wriggled down into his bunk and closed his eyes for sleep, he realized he was wrong.

He knew the answer. It came from a story he’d been told at the orphanage, all those years ago. A story by somebody with three names: Hans Christian Andersen.

OBSERVATION DECK

With some misgivings, Deirdre made her way along the main passageway toward the observation deck, where Max Yeager was waiting for her.

She hadn’t seen Yeager for several days, not even in the galley at dinnertime. The station’s phone system tracked him down almost instantaneously in the mission control center. From her own compartment’s wall screen, Deirdre could see that Max looked haggard, unshaven, his thick mane disheveled, his coveralls wrinkled and baggy. Over his shoulder she could see a bright-looking golden-haired woman with violet eyes sitting at the main console.

“Dee?” Yeager said, easing into a grin as soon as he recognized who had called him. “What can I do for you, gorgeous?”

Deirdre suppressed an annoyed frown. “Max, I need to talk to you.”

“Sure.” His grin became leering. “Your place or mine?”

“Be serious!”

“What’s the trouble, Dee?”

“I need your advice. It … it’s personal. Can we meet somewhere, in private, someplace where we won’t be disturbed?”

His face totally serious now, Yeager said, “Okay, sure.” He thought a moment, then suggested, “How about the observation deck?”

Deirdre nodded. “All right.”

“I can be there in ten minutes.”

“The observation deck,” she said. “Ten minutes.”

Now, though, as she neared the doors, Deirdre recalled that the observation deck was sometimes used for lovers’ trysts. Max! she railed silently. Did I give him the impression that I’m interested in him sexually? No, she told herself. But what I said and what he heard could be two entirely different things.

So she felt distinctly nervous as she slid back the door to the observation deck and stepped inside. The door slid shut automatically and the lights inside dimmed. It was like standing out in space. Deirdre could see myriads of stars spread across the infinite black, the beauty of the universe stretching before her eyes.

But she had no time for the glory of the heavens.

“Max?” she called. “Max, are you here?”

Silence. Then the door slid open again, spilling light from the passageway into the compartment. Max Yeager’s burly form was silhouetted briefly as he stepped through and the door shut once more, automatically dimming the lights.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I had to get loose from Linda; she wanted to come here with me.”

Deirdre assumed Linda was the woman she had glimpsed in the phone screen.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I just got here myself.”

“So here we are, beautiful, in this romantic spot, just you and me and a few zillion stars.”

Deirdre said, “Behave yourself, Max.”

“Do I hafta?” he said, in an imitation of a little boy’s whine.

“Max, I need your advice.”

“About what?”

Deirdre bit her lip, trying to frame her words. Max loomed before her in the shadows, a big shaggy presence.

“How dangerous will the mission be?” she asked.

In the dim light it was difficult to see his face, but his voice sounded surprised. “Dangerous? Like any flight mission, Dee. There’s always the element of risk.”

“But … going down into the ocean. Living in that liquid, breathing it.”

“You’re not going, are you?”

“Andy wants me to. He needs me to.”

For a couple of heartbeats Yeager said nothing. Then, “You’re scared, eh?”

“Terrified,” she admitted.

“Then don’t go.”

“But Andy … he wants to make contact with the leviathans and he thinks I can be a big help to him.”

“Then go.”

“You’re not helping me!”

Yeager stepped closer to her, so close she could smell the acrid tang of his unwashed coveralls. “Dee, honey, what do you want from me? I can’t make up your mind for you.”

“I need to know if your ship is safe,” she replied. “I need to know if we can get through the mission without harm.”

Yeager fell silent again.

“Will I be safe?” she asked, pleadingly.

“Faraday is as safe as I can make her. She’s gone down into that ocean and come back again in tip-top condition. All systems performed as designed. She even took a battering from the sharks and survived virtually unscathed.”

“Virtually?”

Yeager shrugged and gave out a low chuckle. “A couple of minor subsystems went off-line from the shock for a few seconds. They came back on-line, just as they were designed to do.”

“So the ship is safe.”

She sensed him nodding. “As safe as I know how to make her, Dee.”

“Would you ride in it?”

“Sure. In a hot second.”

It was Deirdre’s turn to fall silent.

“I don’t mean that there aren’t risks involved,” Yeager amended. “There’re risks with any mission. But Faraday’s a hundred times safer than the tin cans they sent out on crewed missions twenty years ago. A thousand times safer.”

“Really?”

Placing his hand over his heart, Yeager said, “On my honor as an engineer and a gentleman.”

Deirdre smiled at him. “You are a gentleman, Max.”

“Yeah, dammit.”

The glassteel-walled deck suddenly began to flood with light. Deirdre could see Max clearly: He looked solemn, pensive.

“Jupiter’s rising,” she said.

The giant planet climbed into view, a huge overwhelming curve of glowing clouds, swirling and churning in multihued splendor.

“I’ll be going into that world,” Deirdre said, still more than a little frightened, but totally determined now.

“And I’m going with you,” said Max Yeager.

“You? But—”

“I won’t let you go without me, Dee. If anything happened to you I’d never forgive myself. But if I’m on board with you, if anything unforeseen happens, maybe I’ll be able to fix it.”

“But Max, you’re not a scientist. Dr. Archer won’t allow you to go.”