Jupiter Project Read online

  “Bridge.” a flat voice answered.

  “This is Bohles. I’d like a provisional trajectory computed for rendezvous of shuttle Roadhog with Satellite Fourteen. Departure in, umm, two hours fifty minutes from now.”

  “Well, okay, but we’re expecting to close down external operations any minute now. Background count is too high.”

  “Transmit it to Roadhog’s computer anyway, will you? I can clear the computer tomorrow if the program is invalidated.”

  “Okay, if you just want to make work for yourself. I’ll beam it over in a couple of minutes.”

  “Right, thanks.”

  I hung up and went back to Jenny.

  “What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing.” I said. “Had lunch yet?” I kept my voice cool and casual. Inside I was tense, calculating, making plans.

  “Yes, I ate earlier…” Jenny peered at me, looking puzzled. I avoided her eyes.

  “Uh, okay, I… I think I’ll go get something.” I waved good-bye and moved off.

  I got a snack. Then I went for a walk, alone. I didn’t really want to talk to Jenny, or anybody else. Things were boiling up in me, things I couldn’t explain.

  I watched the faces in the curving corridors. Tight faces, sad ones. Frowns. Scowls. Distracted looks. Dazed expressions. People who seemed like they’d just come from a really terrible argument. Usually you see smiles. But now…

  The spirit we once had was seeping away. I could feel it. We’d all been special out here. A pocket of light and air, bathed in hard radiation and unbearable cold. An outpost.

  But now… They all knew we were going back. Crawling back home, defeated by the mysteries of Jupiter and the blindness of Earth…

  Ignorant bastards, I thought moodily. People passing by glanced at me. I realized I must have said it out loud.

  I leaned against a bulkhead, feeling suddenly dizzy. Christ, what was happening to me? I was wandering at random, talking to myself.

  Things were moving too fast. Problems were coming up and nobody was solving them. Dr. Matonin went around with her oh-so-concerned smile, but that did no good. And Commander Aarons had already written off any chance of a kid staying here. The plain truth of the matter was that, to them, kids were just kids. In a tight situation, it was the adults who counted. Adults knew best. Kids only thought they had problems…try to tell an adult what was really eating at you, and you’d get the old chuckle and a nod of the head, and then a piece of warmed-over advice. They didn’t really see us as equals, as people, at all…

  I marched through the decks, muttering to myself, hands clenching and unclenching.

  Dr. Kadin arrived a few minutes after I got back to Monitoring. I studied the reports from equatorial satellites. The radiation being fed into the belts had dropped in the last hour, almost down to the permissible level for shuttlecraft operation.

  “Do you suppose the storm is dying out?” I asked Dad. He peered at his viewscreen, which at the moment was focused on a gigantic orange whirlpool in the ammonia clouds. “There isn’t any way to tell. The storm activity seems to be related to the number of vortex formations in the atmosphere, and there aren’t any new ones building up right now.”

  “There may be a relatively quiet time coming up.” Dr. Kadin put in, “much like the eye of a hurricane. I must say this is all very queer and extraordinary. There has been nothing like it in the nine years we’ve been here. I hope Satellite Fourteen will give us the data we need.”

  “Where is Fourteen?” Mr. Jablons asked.

  Dad switched to another input and reported. “Two minutes until anything significant could register.”

  Dr. Kadin got a distant look in his eye. “You know,” he said, “so many curious things are happening at once, it is enough to make one wonder. We have recorded massive thunderstorm activity deep in the atmosphere. Great bolts of lightning.”

  “The formation of living cells requires lightning, doesn’t it?” I asked. “Electricity can energize the manufacture of molecules—like the ones we know are down there in the clouds—to produce living compounds.”

  “So experiments on Earth have shown,” Dr. Kadin agreed, raising his eyebrows and sighing. “But we have never found such things in Jupiter. Perhaps lightning is not all that is needed.”

  “What about those meteor swarms?” Mr. Jablons put in. “What’s the explanation for them?”

  “I am afraid today is not a bright one for the scientists. Our expert on the asteroid belt says they may come from there. Another says the orbits trace back to Jupiter’s own moon system. There remain many questions; we do not have sufficient data. The odd thing is that the swarms strike Jupiter near the poles, not the equator. Very unusual—”

  “The Faraday cup on Satellite Fourteen is beginning to register an increase,” Dad said.

  We all crowded around his desk. Dr. Kadin fidgeted at his robes. Mr. Jablons tapped a pencil on his knee. Distant murmurs from the Can underlined the silence between us.

  The black line rose again. I clenched my fists, watching it, not daring to move. The only sound was the pinging of a recorder.

  “Looks good,” Mr. Jablons said hopefully.

  Dr. Kadin said nothing.

  The line shot up, climbing to nearly the same level Seventeen had registered. It held there, steady, steady, holding—

  And fell.

  In a moment, the readings dropped to zero. The Faraday cup wasn’t working.

  “Well.” Dr. Kadin said. “I had hoped—”

  I couldn’t listen to it. I turned and bolted from the room.

  “Matt!” my father called after me. I didn’t look back.

  I ran down the corridor, blinking back tears of anger. That cup couldn’t fail, I just knew it!

  I took an express elevator inward, toward the center of the Can. The tube that led to the air lock was deserted. Nobody was going outside now, during the storm.

  I forced myself to calm down a little once I was in the suiting-up bay. It wouldn’t be smart to foul up an air hose and find out about it in the middle of decompression.

  I left the bay, carrying my helmet under my arm, and stepped into the short passageway that led to the main air lock. It would be a good idea to cycle the lock manually; the bridge might notice it on their board if I put the lock on automatic. I put a hand on the hatch wheel.

  “Hey, shrimp, what’re you doing?”

  I didn’t say anything. I turned the wheel faster. I heard Yuri’s steps behind me.

  A hand landed on my shoulder and spun me around.

  “There’s a storm, kid. Nobody goes outside.”

  “I’ve got permission.”

  “Oh? From who?”

  “Commander Aarons. Ask him.”

  “A likely story.”

  “It’s true. Go on, ask him. He’s right over there.” I pointed down the corridor.

  Yuri turned his head, following my finger. My heart was beating furiously. The cold fear began to seep into me again and I hesitated. I knew this was it. I would get only one chance.

  Yuri frowned in disgust and started to turn back toward me.

  I slammed my fist into his stomach.

  “Hey!” He staggered back.

  I jabbed at his chin. Yuri blocked and hit me in the shoulder. I backed off. He came crowding in on me, fast. I swung and missed. Yuri brushed my arm aside and landed a solid punch in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

  The world turned purple. I jabbed and caught him weakly on the chest. Something slammed into my face. I reeled back, gasping. He hit me twice more and I went down.

  “Dumb, really dumb.” He prodded me with a toe.

  I lay face down on the polished deck. The dust, the goddamned yellow dust. The crowd heckling, laughing. Coward, weakling…the spattering sound…

  I was down, but I wasn’t really badly hurt.

  I blinked and the drifting purple mist faded away. I breathed deeply.

  And I reached inside myself, deep, into the cold ball o
f fear at the center of me. I saw it for what it was. And I smothered it, pushed it away.

  I forced myself up onto my hands and knees.

  Yuri smirked at me. “Come on, I think I will take you to see the officer of the watch. He should be most interested in—”

  I brought my thigh up and shot my leg out in a frontal kick, the way I’d seen it done on 3D. Yuri started to turn. The kick caught him in the side. He staggered, off balance. “Wha—”

  I leaped at him. I gave him two quick jabs in the side of the head. He whirled and hit me in the stomach. Pain lanced through me. I gritted my teeth and stood my ground. I landed three punches on his chest. Yuri slowed. I slammed my fists into him again and again and again and suddenly he wasn’t there anymore.

  I looked down. He was lying on the deck. He didn’t move but he was breathing. I didn’t think he was hurt. At the moment I didn’t care much one way or the other. Yuri had been dishing out a lot of crap lately. I figured he could take his chances.

  I left him there. Sure, I could tie him up, but what if somebody else came along while I was doing it?

  I cycled out of the lock, breaking the hatch open before the red light winked green. A burst of air blew me away from the lock, tumbling. I sucked in a sour breath of suit air. Time, time…

  I leveled off using attitude jets and picked out the Roadhog’s berth. I cruised over to it. I felt lightheaded; I automatically checked my oxygen level to see if I was hyperventilating. The meter didn’t say so; the effect was probably from adrenaline. I could hear my pulse tripping in my ears.

  I coasted into the seat after clearing the mooring lines. I backed Roadhog out of her berth in one burst. I set a beeline course for the mouth of the Can and thumbed on the autopilot. Good; the course for Satellite Fourteen was logged in. Departure time in five minutes. Well, that would have to be close enough: I couldn’t hang around waiting, and Roadhog would clear the Can in less than two.

  I ran a quick check on the shuttle. One of the forward lines had vapor-locked, but I overloaded the pressure and blew it open. It would probably be okay for the trip. I told myself.

  We passed pretty close to the Sagan going out. It was eerie, being alone in the bay. There were no work lamps, no other moving craft, only the pinwheeling lights of the Can.

  We had just cleared the Can. I slammed on the drive. The boost pushed me back in my seat with a gratifying weight. We went hell for leather out the top, burning fuel extravagantly. I wanted to get away, and fast. I’d use up some of my safety reserve, but it was worth it. Ten minutes out, I switched in the computer orbit. Roadhog stirred under me. She pointed her nose at the glowing crescent of Jupiter and I felt the ion engine kick in on a new vector. We were off.

  Roadhog ran steadily for a few minutes before the radio came alive.

  “Bohles! This is the bridge. We have just picked you up on radar. Turn around. Radiation levels—”

  I switched it off. After I had given the Roadhog a thorough check I clicked it back on again.

  “—mander Aarons speaking. I order you to return to the Laboratory. You can accomplish nothing this way.”

  “I don’t think he’s listening, sir. We haven’t had a peep out of him.”

  “Hmmmm. Can someone go out and get him?”

  “Not too easily. Those shuttles have big engines on them, for their weight. He’s already moving pretty fast.”

  “How long to pick him up?”

  “Two hours, minimum.”

  “Not good enough. I can’t ask someone to risk his life—”

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I’ll take all the risks.”

  There was a pause. Then: “Bohles, this is a very foolish thing to do. There is no need—”

  “Listen, I’d like to talk to my father.”

  Faintly: “Where’s his father? On intercom? Patch him in.”

  “Hello, Matt?”

  “Hi, Dad.” My voice seemed thin, weak. I swallowed.

  “This isn’t very smart.”

  “I’ve got to do something. I don’t want to go Earthside, Dad. You said yourself that we’ve got to justify keeping the Lab out here by solid results. Well, maybe it’s too late, but I’m going to try.”

  “Son…”

  “What is the radiation level along my orbit?”

  A pause. “Well, you are a little lucky there. The background count seems to be falling off. Maybe there is going to be a lull in the storm, but you are taking a chance.”

  “Anybody who keeps breathing takes a chance.”

  “Matt, your mother would like—”

  “No, no.” I didn’t think I could take that. “Don’t put her on.”

  In the background: “If the pattern holds, sir, the radiation levels will be acceptable.” “Hmmmm. Cancel that order to intercept.” “I think he has a good chance to come out of it all right, sir.” “But you don’t know, do you?” “Uh, nossir.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, Matt. Your mother—”

  “No. I’m signing off. I’ll let you know if anything changes. I’m not eager to get a radiation burn out here, either. But I believe this is worth the risk.”

  “I think Yuri will be around to look you up when you get back, too.” I could imagine him smiling as he said it.

  “Tell him I’ll be receiving visitors. And don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I want to think things over out here. Alone.”

  “I hope—”

  “Good-bye.” I switched off.

  Loneliness is a sad word; solitude is more dignified. But loneliness is just solitude you don’t want, and there were times in the hours ahead when I would have given anything if Jenny or Zak or anyone had been there.

  For a while I watched the radiation gauge every two minutes. It dropped a little but not much. My radio emergency light blinked a few times; I ignored it.

  The journey became almost hypnotic. Jupiter was a thin crescent sliced by the familiar bands. I could make out some of the outer moons: Ganymede was a faint blue disc, Io trailed behind me, an orange-red ball that fell below as I moved toward Jupiter’s north pole. Satellite Fourteen was coming down to meet me.

  I watched the huge whirlpools catch up and pass below me. At their centers I could see dark blotches—methane? frozen water?—swirling in a grand, lazy dance. It was hard to believe those blemishes were larger than the Pacific Ocean.

  Jupiter filled the sky. This close it is more like an infinite plain than a planet and you can’t really be convinced that you aren’t going to fall into it. Beyond the terminator, in what should have been blackness, I could see thin fingers of yellow lightning playing in cloud banks.

  Perhaps Jupiter was the home of the gods and the storms were merely giant tournaments; Jove throwing his thunderbolts…

  I caught myself right there. Men have been hypnotized by Jupiter’s vastness before me and I recognized the symptoms.

  I gave myself some rations, savored them to stretch out the time, and busied myself by climbing around the Roadhog and looking her over. The superconductor fields were working okay. Because of them I couldn’t climb over the side and inspect the undercarriage. I called the Can a few times. After a few tries at persuading me to come back, the bridge officer gave me radiation level readings. They matched pretty closely to mine.

  I didn’t think very much about the radiation. I was getting a little more than the “acceptable” dose, but that was just an average worked out for people in all sorts of jobs. If I got a lot there were treatments that would help.

  Even if I didn’t make it—so what? Nobody lived forever. I wouldn’t live to see the first star ship leave; I’d never know if there were intelligent life forms living near the Centauri system, or Tau Ceti, or…

  I caught myself again. No use getting morbid.

  Minutes crawled by, then hours. I dozed.

  My radio emergency light was blinking an angry red when I woke up. I ignored it and checked the time. Rendezvous should be coming up.

  I looked around to
orient myself. Jupiter was still a striped custard below; now I could see a purple darkening toward the pole.

  In a few minutes I picked out a white dot that seemed a likely candidate. It grew. I matched velocity and watched Satellite Fourteen resolve itself into an overweight basketball.

  I coasted over. The Faraday cup didn’t show any damage; everything looked just the way I had left it.

  I disconnected it from the satellite’s electrical system and checked carefully over the outside. Nothing wrong. The heart of a Faraday cup is the grid trapping mechanism. I would have to open it up to get a look at that.

  I unclipped a no-torque screwdriver from my suit belt and took the cover off the cup. Everything still looked okay. I removed the backup shields and slid the center of the cup out. It was just big enough to hold in one hand.

  The final cover came off easily. Then I saw what was wrong.

  The space between anode and cathode was filled with some sort of oil.

  I thought back. Oil? That didn’t make sense. I was sure it wasn’t there when I installed the cup. It wasn’t oil, anyway. It was more like sticky dust. I poked a finger into the gap. Some of the stuff stayed on my glove; some more drifted away into space.

  I swore. An electrical failure I could understand, but this was out of my department.

  What about that old Faraday cup I’d replaced? I hadn’t even looked at it. I’d just let it drift away from the satellite, since I didn’t have any further use for it. Maybe that one had this gunk in it, too.

  One thing was certain: I wasn’t going to fix it out here. I took out a plastic sheet and wrapped up the part, dust and all.

  I got back in the Roadhog, waved good-bye to Fourteen and fired the ion engine.

  The work had made me hungry again. I ate some rations and then finally answered my radio.

  “Matt?” It was Mr. Jablons.

  “Who else?”

  “I thought you might like to know that Satellite Seventeen’s cup cleared up a while ago. There appears to be some saturation phenomenon operating.”

  “Oh, great. You mean if I’d left the cup on Fourteen alone it would fix itself?”

  “Probably. Are you bringing it in?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll need a look at it anyway. A device that fails only when you need it isn’t much use. I’ll meet you at the lock and get right on the problem.”