A Meeting with Medusa

the probe, floating more than eighty miles below him in an atmosphere now almost as dense as water.

At first, there was only a soft hiss of whatever strange winds stirred down in the darkness of that unimaginable world. And then, out of the background noise, there slowly emerged a booming vibration that grew louder and louder, like the beating of a gigantic drum. It was so low that it was felt as much as heard, and the beats steadily increased their tempo though the pitch never changed. Now it was a swift, almost infrasonic throbbing. Then, suddenly, in mid-vibration, it stopped so abruptly that the mind could not accept the silence, but memory continued to manufacture a ghostly echo in the deepest caverns of the brain.

It was the most extraordinary sound that Falcon had ever heard, even among the multitudinous noises of Earth. He could think of no natural phenomenon that could have caused it, nor was it like the cry of any animal, not even one of the great whales…

It came again, following exactly the same pattern. Now that he was prepared for it, he estimated the length of the sequence, from first faint throb to final crescendo, it lasted just over ten seconds.

And this time there was a real echo, very faint and far away. Perhaps it was from one of the many reflecting layers, deeper in this stratified atmosphere, perhaps it was another, more distant source. Falcon waited for a second echo, but it never came.

Mission Control reacted quickly and asked him to drop another probe at once. With two microphones operating, it would be possible to find the aproximate location of the sources. Oddly enough, none of Kon-Tiki’s own external mikes could detect anything except wind noises. The boomings, hatever they were, must have been trapped and channelled beneath an mospheric reflecting layer far below.

They were coming, it was soon discovered, from a cluster of sources about twelve hundred miles away. The distance gave no indication of their wer, in Earth’s oceans, quite feeble sounds could travel equally far. And for the obvious assumption that living creatures were responsible, the Exobiobogist quickly ruled that out.

“I’ll be very disappointed,” said Dr Brenner, “if there are no microanisms or plants there. But nothing like animals, because there’s no free oxygen. All biochemical reactions on Jupiter must be low-energy ones, there’s just no way an active creature could generate enough power to function.”

Falcon wondered if this was true, he had heard the argument before, and reserved judgment.

“In any case, continued Brenner, “some of those sound waves are a hundred yards long! Even an animal as big as a whale couldn’t produce them. They must have a natural origin.”

Yes, that seemed plausible, and probably the physicists would be able to me up with an explanation. What would a blind alien make, Falcon wondered, of the sounds he might hear when standing beside a stormy sea, a geyser, or a volcano, or a waterfall? He might well attribute them to a huge beast.

About an hour before sunrise the voices of the deep died away, and Falcon began to busy himself with preparation for the dawn of his second day. Kon-Tiki was now only three miles above the nearest cloud layer, the external pressure had risen to ten atmospheres, and the temperature was a tropical thirty degrees. A man could be comfortable here with no more equipment than a breathing mask and the right grade of heliox mixture.

“We’ve some good news for you,” Mission Control reported, soon after dawn. “The cloud layer’s breaking up. You’ll have partial clearing in an hour, but watch out for turbulence.”

“I’ve already noticed some,” Falcon answered. “How far down will I be able to see?”

“At least twelve miles, down to the second thermocline. That cloud deck is solid, it never breaks.”

And it’s out of my reach, Falcon told himself, the temperature down there must be over a hundred degrees. This was the first time that any balloonist had ever had to worry, not about his ceiling, but about his basement!

Ten minutes later he could see what Mission Control had already observed from its superior vantage point. There was a change in colour near the horizon, and the cloud layer had become ragged and lumpy, as if something had torn it open. He turned up his little nuclear furnace and gave Kon-Tiki another three miles of altitude, so that he could get a better view.

The sky below was clearing rapidly, completely, as if something was dissolving the solid overcast. An abyss was opening before his eyes. A moment later he sailed out over the edge of a cloud canyon about twelve miles deep and six hundred miles wide.

A new world lay spread beneath him, Jupiter had stripped away one of its many veils. The second layer of clouds, unattainably far below, was much darker in colour than the first. It was almost salmon pink, and curiously mottled with little islands of brick red. They were all oval-shaped, with their long axes pointing east-west, in the direction of the prevailing wind. There were hundreds of them, all about the same size, and they reminded Falcon of puffy little cumulus clouds in the terrestrial sky.

He reduced buoyancy, and Kon-Tiki began to drop down the face of the dissolving cliff. It was then that he noticed the snow.

White flakes were forming in the air and drifting slowly downward. Yet it was much too warm for snow and, in any event, there was scarcely a trace of water at this altitude. Moreover, there was no glitter or sparkle about these flakes as they went cascading down into the depths. When, presently, a few landed on an instrument boom outside the main vieWing port, he saw that they were a dull, opaque white, not crystalline at all and quite large, several inches across. They looked like wax, and Falcon guessed that this was precisely what they were. Some chemical reaction was taking place in the atmosphere around him, condensing out the hydrocarbons floating in the Jovian air.

About sixty miles ahead, a disturbance was taking place in the cloud layer. The little red ovals were being jostled around, and were beginning to form a spiral the familiar cyclonic pattern so common in the meteorology of Earth. The vortex was emerging with astonishing speed, if that was a storm ahead, Falcon told himself, he was in big trouble.

And then his concern changed to wonder and to fear. What was developing in his line of flight was not a storm at all. Something enormous, something scores of miles across was rising through the clouds.

The reassuring thought that it, too, might be a cloud, a thunderhead boiling up from the lower levels of the atmosphere lasted only a few seconds. No, this was solid. It shouldered its way through the pink-and-salmon overcast like an iceberg rising from the deeps.

An iceberg floating on hydrogen? That was impossible, of course; but perhaps it was not too remote an analogy. As soon as he focused the telescope upon the enigma, Falcon saw that it was a whitish, crystalline mass, threaded with streaks of red and brown. It must be, he decided, the same stuff as the “snowflakes” falling around him, a mountain range of wax. And it was not, he soon realised, as solid as he had thought, around the edges it was continually crumbling and re-forming…

“I know what it is,” he radioed Mission Control, which for the last few minutes had been asking anxious questions. “It’s a mass of bubbles, some kind of foam. Hydrocarbon froth. Get the chemists working on… Just a minute!”

“What is it?” called Mission Control. “What is it?”

He ignored the frantic pleas from space and concentrated all his mind upon the image in the telescope field. He had to be sure, if he made a mistake, he would be the laughingstock of the solar system.

Then he relaxed, glanced at the clock, and switched off the nagging voice from Jupiter V.

“Hello, Mission Control,” he said, very formally. “This is Howard Falcon aboard Kon-Tiki. Estimated Time nineteen hours twenty-one minutes fifteen seconds. Latitude zero degrees five minutes North. Longitude one hundred five degrees forty-two minutes, System One.

“Tell Dr Brenner that there is life on Jupiter. And it’s big…

5. The Wheels of Poseidon

“I’m very happy to be proved wrong,” Dr Brenner radioed back cheerfully. “Nature always has something up her sleeve. Keep the long-focus camera on target and give us the steadiest pictures you can.”

The things moving up and down those waxen slopes were still too far away for Falcon to make out many details, and they must have been very large to be visible at all at such a distance. Almost black, and shaped like