Leviathans of Jupiter

we make it understand that it should follow us back to the Kin? Leviathan wondered.

* * *

“It’s nothing but gibberish,” Yeager said, still standing so close behind Deirdre that she could feel the ripples in the perfluorocarbon when he moved. Andy had come up at her other side, staring intently at her screen.

“I’ve displayed an image of the two of them,” Deirdre said, feeling frustrated. Her chest was beginning to knot again.

“Maybe the color has something to do with it,” Max suggested. “Maybe they can’t see that shade of blue.”

“But that’s the color of their hides,” Deirdre said.

Yeager shrugged. “Maybe they’re into abstracts. Like Picasso or some of those other painters. Try changing the color.”

Deirdre shifted from blue to green, and when that got no response from the leviathans, she went to bright red, then a softer pink.

“Nothing,” Yeager mumbled.

“Not exactly nothing,” said Dorn, from his console. “Their images are changing.”

“It’s all gibberish,” Yeager said. “They’re just making dumb displays, like octopi do back Earthside. They change colors all the time; it doesn’t mean diddly-squat.”

Deirdre asked, “Dorn, are we recording all this?”

“Yes,” he replied. “And copying it for the data capsule we’re scheduled to launch in … two hours and seventeen minutes.”

“Maybe the scientists at the station can make some sense out of this,” she murmured.

It’s all so frustrating, Deirdre thought. They’re trying to communicate with us, I know they are. But what do those splotches of colors mean? How can we speak to them? How can we understand them? The knot in her chest twisted tighter. She grimaced from the pain.

CATS AND MOUSE

I should’ve seen this coming, Rodney Devlin said to himself as he hurried along the dimly lit passageway. I should’ve known she’d want to shut me up for good.

Devlin knew every nook and cranny of station Gold. Seldom seen outside the galley and its kitchen, the Red Devil still managed to roam through the whole station, every level, every passageway, every office and laboratory and workshop—usually late at night when almost everyone else was asleep.

No virtual reality tours of the station for him. Devlin walked the passageways, poked into compartments, tapped out security codes to unlock doors, and examined everything from Grant Archer’s office to the immersion tank down in the third wheel. In person, in real time. More than once, over the years, he had slipped into someone’s compartment, like a sneak thief. More than once he had stayed when the sleeper was a desirable and willing woman.

This night he knew he needed every scrap of knowledge he possessed about the station’s layout. Three of Katherine Westfall’s bully boys were looking for him. Devlin felt like a frightened little mouse being chased by three very large and determined cats.

He had been finishing up his menus for the coming day, shortly after midnight, when he saw them come into the kitchen from the galley, three muscular young men in dark suits with faces made of granite. They’re not here to invite you to a party, Devlin told himself. As the three hunters searched along the kitchen’s counters, stoves, ovens, Devlin slipped behind the silent row of oversized food processors and out the back door.

Once in the passageway that ran behind the kitchen, he hesitated briefly. Where to go? It’ll take them a few minutes to search the kitchen and figure out that I’m not there. Then they’ll try my quarters. In the meantime I’ve got to find a safe hideout.

Where? And for how long? Till morning, at least, he realized as he started jogging down the passageway, his softboots making practically no sound on the tiles of the deck.

Once they see I’m not in the kitchen, they’ll probably go to the comm center and check the surveillance screens. Crikey! Maybe they’ve already got somebody at the comm center who can see me right now!

He hurried along the passageway, glancing at the tiny red lights of the surveillance cameras set up near the overhead every fifty meters or so. It’s no good, he said to himself. They can run the surveillance chips and see wherever I go. There’s no place to hide. Unless …

* * *

Nikki Gregorian sat tensely at her desk in the station’s communications center. Chewing on her lip, she stared at the digital clock on the wall. It seemed to be stopped. Time was standing still. All the surveillance screens were dark. None of the station’s cameras was functioning, and they would not come on-line again for another two hours. She was alone in the center, halfway through her duty shift, and all the screens were as dark and dead as corpses.

It was a risk, deliberately turning off the cameras, but the money was worth it. A breathtaking amount of money. Keep the cameras off for three hours, the handsome young man had told her. No one will know. And even if they figure it out and fire you, you’ll have enough money to return to Earth and retire.

She didn’t ask why he wanted the cameras off. She knew he worked for Katherine Westfall and the money he was willing to transfer to her account back Earthside was enough to allow her to retire comfortably before the year was out. Good-bye to station Gold and its cramped, sterile confines. Back to Earth to live in style.

Still, she wondered what they were up to. What were they doing, that they wanted all the station’s surveillance cameras turned off?

* * *

Katherine Westfall could not sleep. She lay on the king-sized waterbed of her suite, dressed in lounging pajamas of emerald green, trimmed with gold, wide awake, waiting for her security team to report.

They should have found him by now. This station isn’t that large that he can hide from them. They’ve shut down the surveillance cameras, of course; there will be no record of what happened to Rodney Devlin. But even without the cameras, they should be able to find the man. Why haven’t they reported to me?

It seemed simple enough to her. Find Devlin and toss him out an airlock. Neat and clean. In the morning he’ll have disappeared. Archer and his people can search the station from top to bottom and they won’t find him. Devlin won’t be able to tell anyone about the nanomachines.

Then when the Faraday doesn’t come back from its mission, Archer will be disgraced, and Devlin’s disappearance forgotten. Four people killed, and it will be all his fault. Devlin, too. That will end Archer’s career. He’ll never be able to challenge me for the IAA chairmanship. He’ll be finished.

But why haven’t they reported? she asked herself for the hundredth time. They should have found Devlin by now and gotten rid of him.

She realized that she was perspiring slightly. And her stomach hurt. Nerves, she said to herself. You’ve got to get rid of Devlin. You can’t have him here, knowing about the nanomachines. He’ll hold that over your head. He’s the type who’d blackmail you, threaten you, bring you down. Once they don’t come back from the ocean, once he realizes what I’ve done, he’ll have that over me for the rest of my life.

I can’t let him do that. It’s either him or me. And it’s not going to be me!

Still, her stomach ached. A dull, sullen pain, as if she’d eaten too many sweets. Nerves, Westfall told herself. Steady on. They’ll find Devlin and deal with him. Then you’ll be safe. Then there will be no one who can threaten you.