Ben Bova - Leviathans of Jupiter

She smiled at him. Naïve fool, she thought. Scientists are all alike. What I’m doing is so important that it mustn’t be stopped or even cut back. Money is no object. Of course it isn’t. It’s not their money that they’re spending.

Archer had stopped talking. His image stood frozen on her display screen. That meant that he was finished for the time being and was waiting for her reply to reach him.

Westfall did not need a prepared script. Keeping her smile in place, she said, “I’m sure that the work you’re doing is very important, Dr. Archer, but the economic facts of life must be taken into account, whether we like it or not.”

Sitting up a little straighter, she went on, “Your research work is funded out of the profits made by the scoopship operations, as you know. The market for scooping fusion fuels out of Jupiter’s atmosphere has leveled off. We are no longer expanding our construction of new fusion powerplants on Earth, and even the market for fusion torch ships has gone rather flat.

“That means that the profits have leveled off, and you can’t expect increases in your funding. I’m afraid there’s nothing that I, or you, or anyone can do about that. You must cut back on your budget, just like the rest of us.”

She hesitated, wondering inwardly, Should I let him know that I’m aware of this giant submersible he’s building? No, she decided. I want to see the shock on his face in person, up close.

She spoke a few more meaningless words of farewell, ending the discussion. The screen went blank gray.

Katherine Westfall leaned back in the couch as if exhausted by the morning’s exertion. But she was thinking, I know what he’ll do now. He’ll rush to get that submersible finished and send a crew back into the ocean before I can cut off his funding altogether.

He’ll push his people to their utmost. He’ll be in a sweat to go back into the ocean and kill more of his underlings. Just like his predecessor killed my sister.

Good, she thought. All to the good.

It was like being underwater. The dolphin tank took up four entire decks of the torch ship: four levels had been ripped out and filled with salt water, their outer bulkheads reinforced to withstand the pressure. The central core, where the elevator and ship’s plumbing and electrical conduits ran, passed through the giant glassteel-walled tank.

Deirdre gasped in awe as she and her companions stepped out of the elevator cab. They were standing on a narrow circular platform, surrounded by the aquarium and its gliding, sinuous, colorful fish. She shivered slightly; the place felt chilly, and it smelled of a salty tang—clean, she decided. The air was cool and fresh, not like the other decks where the human crew and passengers lived.

“It’s like being inside the ocean!” she exclaimed.

Corvus nodded happily. “That’s right. It’s as self-contained an ocean environment as the best ecologists on Earth could produce in this limited volume.” He put the square aluminum case he’d been carrying down on the bare metal deck and rubbed his arms. “That bugger is heavy!”

A pair of dolphins slid past, sleek, gray, squeaking and clicking, their mouths turned up in a perpetual silly grin. They reminded Deirdre of Andy.

“Well,” Corvus said, “to work.” And he began to tug off his coveralls.

“You’re not going into the water with them?” Yeager asked, looking a trifle apprehensive.

“Just long enough to insert the transceiver into that youngster there.” He pointed at one of the smaller dolphins. It seemed to be eying Corvus as it swam past.

Once he’d peeled down to black skintight trunks, Corvus opened the big aluminum case and began pulling out a pair of swim fins, a breathing mask, and a cylinder of compressed air. Dorn stepped over and helped him strap the air tank onto his back.

“How do you get into the water?” Deirdre asked.

Pointing behind her, Andy explained, “Easy. Up the ladder to the top of the tank, over the edge up there, then kerplop! into the water.”

“You’ve done this before?” Yeager asked.

“Every day since we left lunar orbit, just to get acquainted with the dolphins.”

Deirdre was impressed with Andy’s agility as he scrambled up the metal ladder carrying his fins in one hand. He’d hung the palm-sized metal cylinder of his transceiver around his neck on a metal link chain.

“The water must be cold,” she said to Dorn, standing beside her. Yeager had moved slightly away; he was staring into the tank, watching the fish swimming tirelessly past.

Corvus pulled on his breathing mask and slipped into the water with barely a ripple. One of the dolphins swam up toward him with a barrage of clicks and whistles. Andy jackknifed and dived down toward the smallest of the dolphins. It circled him twice, chattering madly, then dashed away. Two of the bigger dolphins glided alongside Andy, one on either side. The little dolphin obviously wanted to play, but after several minutes of gyrations, the dolphin finally eased into a steady glide and allowed Corvus to slide one arm along its back.

They swam together for several minutes. Deirdre saw that, baby or not, the little dolphin was slightly longer than Andy’s lanky form, swim fins and all. The adults dwarfed him.

At last he was able to insert his transceiver into a slot that had been surgically implanted in the young dolphin’s skull. The two larger dolphins hovered around the youngster, chattering off a rapid-fire clatter of clicks. That’s their language, Deirdre said to herself.

After a few more minutes, Andy kicked up to the surface and climbed out of the tank. Dripping wet, he came down the ladder to join them on the deck.

Dorn pulled a big white terry cloth towel out of the capacious aluminum case and draped it over Andy’s shoulders as soon as he slipped his air tank off. Deirdre couldn’t help wondering if the puddles Andy was dripping onto the deck might be slippery.

Yeager, looking even more ill at ease, had the same thought. “These puddles could be dangerous,” he half growled.

“There’s a mini vac in here someplace,” Corvus said, ducking his head into the case. He pulled the vacuum out and offered it to Yeager. “Here.”

Yeager looked astonished, then almost angry. But he took the tool and sucked up the puddles without complaint. Deirdre was surprised at how loud the machine was; its buzzing noise seemed to echo off the walls of the tank.

Corvus didn’t notice the noise at all. He was busy pulling a gray electronics box out of his carrying case. To Deirdre it looked almost like an old-fashioned notebook computer, perhaps slightly bigger. Sitting it on the lid of the big aluminum case, Corvus opened up the device, turned it on, nodded when its screen brightened.

Then he pulled out a slim metallic circular band that glittered with optronic chips, lifted it in both hands like a royal crown, and settled it onto his matted, still-wet hair.

“Okay,” he said, looking up at Deirdre and the others. “Now we see if it works.”

Corvus seemed to go into a trance. His eyes half closed, his slightly uneven face relaxed into a sleeplike softness as he crouched on his knees by the electronics box. Like a sleepwalker he turned to the curving wall of the aquarium, then pressed his fingertips against the glassteel.

Dorn was watching him intently. Yeager looked edgy. Deirdre stood over Corvus, not knowing what to do, or if she should even try to do anything. Unbidden, the memory of her visit to Dr. Pohan came back into the forefront of her mind. Rabies, she thought. If he can’t synthesize the antidote I could die.

The baby dolphin glided up to Corvus, squeaking and chattering, its two parents hovering not far off. Corvus turned sluggishly and rested his back against the curving glassteel wall of the tank. His chin drooped to his chest, his eyes closed completely. But his fingers twitched slightly.