probes found? And the algal colonies that float in the clouds? The sky here looks empty, barren.
He realized that none of the others had spoken more than a few words since they’d linked with the ship’s systems. It’s working on them, too, Grant told himself. They’re just as absorbed by this electronic seduction as I am. Just because they’ve had more experience with it doesn’t mean it’s any easier for them to handle it.
“I thought we’d see airborne organisms,” he said aloud.
Karlstad seemed to twitch, as if suddenly awakened from a trance. “They’re out there,” he said.
Muzorawa countered, “The sensors haven’t detected any.”
“Not even on the microscopic scale?”
“Ah, well … microorganisms are present everywhere,” Muzorawa agreed.
“But what about the big life-forms?” Grant asked.
“They’re pretty thinly scattered,” Karlstad replied. “They need a lot of territory to support themselves.”
“Maybe they’re afraid of us,” O’Hara suggested in a subdued voice.
“Afraid?”
“After all, we did come crashing down here like a great blazing meteor, didn’t we?”
Karlstad hesitated a moment, then conceded, “Yes, there is that.”
O’Hara started to add something, but bit the thought off and said instead, “Message from the director coming in, Captain.”
The wallscreen view of the unbroken haze was instantly replaced by a grainy, static-streaked image of Dr. Wo. He looked grimly angry.
“The IAA inspection team is making their final burn to rendezvous with the station,” he said without preamble. “I have been ordered to recall your mission. You are supposed to return to Station
Everyone on the bridge froze. Grant turned slightly and saw Krebs floating up near the overhead, one thickfingered hand pressed against the metal paneling to hold herself in place. She was staring at the screen, the stony expression on her face unreadable.
“You are to acknowledge receipt of this message,” Wo said, drawing out each word as if to emphasize them.
The silence on the bridge was palpable. Grant felt shocked, bitter disappointment that the mission was being aborted, anger at the IAA for cutting it short. He wanted to go on, to stay linked with the ship, to probe deeper into that alien sea.
O’Hara reached for the keyboard of her console.
“What are you doing?” Krebs snapped.
“The director said we should acknowledge receiving his message.”
“But—”
Krebs hovered up by the overhead for several more silent moments. Then she pointed toward Grant and commanded, “Increase thrust twenty percent.”
Grant reacted automatically, and instantly felt the surge in power, like flexing a well-lubricated muscle. It felt good, strong, right. From beyond where O’Hara stood with a frown of uncertainty on her face, Karlstad glanced toward Grant with a puzzled, troubled look.
The bridge seemed to tilt noticeably. Muzorawa called out, “Flight angle steepening past twenty degrees … twenty-five…”
“No need to call out the flight angle,” Krebs snapped. “We are going into the ocean at maximum rate of descent.”
Muzorawa hesitated a heartbeat, then said slowly, “Captain, the director has ordered us to abort the mission.”
“I am aware of that,” Krebs answered sharply. “I have decided to enter the ocean sooner than planned.”
“Shouldn’t we answer Dr. Wo?” O’Hara asked.
“How can we?” Krebs said. “We are beyond direct communications contact.”
“But we’re not—”
“We are beyond direct communications contact,” Krebs repeated with iron in her voice. “We never received the abort command, so we cannot acknowledge it.”
She’s going in! Grant marveled. Despite the IAA’s order, she’s going ahead with the mission. Zeb looked concerned but kept silent. No use arguing with a decision she’s already made, Grant told himself.
Krebs said to O’Hara, “Your communications duties are finished. Maintain an open comm channel for monitoring incoming messages only. We will not respond to any messages from the station.”
Lane looked as conflicted as Grant felt: worried about disobeying Dr. Wo, yet eager to go on with the mission.
“You will pilot the ship from now on, O’Hara. Under my direct command, of course.”
“Yes, Captain,” Lane said, almost in a whisper.
“Maintain dive angle of thirty degrees.”
“Yes, Captain,” Lane repeated as her hands busily rearranged the controls on her console touchscreens.
Grant looked to Muzorawa; Zeb seemed concerned, worried. Turning to look past O’Hara, Grant saw Karlstad looked positively shocked. Worse, he looked frightened.
But no one said a further word. Grant found that he was glad for Krebs’s decision to defy orders. Joyous. It was obvious that Dr. Wo had been forced to send the recall command. But we’re here, below the clouds, heading into the ocean. We’re going to do what we came here to do, and not Wo or the IAA or the New Morality can stop us. Grant grinned inwardly as he felt the ship’s thrusters purring smoothly, propelling them through the thickening Jovian atmosphere, down toward the world ocean.
O’Hara finished resetting her console. “Ready to take the conn, Captain,” she reported softly.
Krebs pushed down from her usual spot to stand beside O’Hara, hooking one foot into a floor loop.
Pointing to the small screen in the upper left corner of O’Hara’s console, Krebs said, “Keep that one open for incoming communications. There is to be no outgoing message unless I specifically order it. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Turning to Muzorawa, she said, “Prepare a data capsule for launch.”
“Yes, Captain,” Zeb replied.
Krebs leaned past O’Hara and touched the communications screen, then said in a flat, calm voice, “Data capsule number one. We have penetrated the clouds and are descending into the ocean. All systems functioning normally except communications, which are totally blocked by unexpected electrical interference in the Jovian atmosphere. Since we are unable to receive or transmit messages, we will continue on our mission plan and report through data capsules as necessary.”
Then she turned to O’Hara and asked, “Did you get that recorded?”
“Recorded,” Lane answered.
“The capsule is ready to be launched,” Muzorawa announced.
“Good. Launch it.”
Nothing happened. Grant suddenly realized it was his job to launch the capsule. Too late. Krebs pulled her foot free of the floor loop and whirled halfway about, staring wildly.
“Archer!” she bellowed. “Archer, where are you?”
Blinking with surprise, Grant said, “I’m right here, Captain.”
Krebs advanced on him like a barbarian army. “Why are you just standing there! Launch the capsule! Launch it!”
“Y-yessir,” Grant stuttered, desperately trying to remember the launch command sequence. The capsules had to be launched manually, he recalled that much; they were not included in the biochip linkage.
With fumbling hands, he tapped his central touchscreen and called up the launching program. It was simple enough, he saw, but with Krebs hovering over him like a smoldering volcano, it took Grant two tries before he got the commands in the right order.
He felt the capsule’s launch like a tingle of excitement shimmering through him. It reminded Grant of the
