Leviathans of Jupiter Read Online Free PDF Page B

originally come to research station Gold as a graduate student, doing his mandatory four years of public service. He had dreams of becoming an astrophysicist, of studying collapsed stars and black holes, of perhaps learning how to create space-time warps that could allow humans to span the mind-numbing distances between the stars. But once he saw the leviathans he forgot all that. He never left the Jupiter region again, brought his wife to the Thomas Gold station and had two children with her, eventually became director of the station.
    He was a quiet type, his demeanor usually serious, his actions studied and methodical. No blazing genius, Grant Archer was a fine administrator, smart enough to allow the younger men and women who showed flashes of brilliance to do their work without being overly bothered by the bureaucracies that dogged every research program. He had kept his youthful slimness, thanks to a metabolism that seemed unable to produce fat. After a quarter century of marriage he was still the earnest, broad-shouldered, good-looking man that Marjorie had fallen in love with back in their college days on Earth.
    His one obvious physical change over those years was that his sandy brown hair had turned silver. Grant kept it cropped militarily short, almost down to a skullcap. And once he had been named director of the station he had grown a trim little beard; it made him look more mature, he believed, more impressive. His wife thought it gave him an air of authority, but it evaporated whenever he smiled.
    â€œIs she really coming out here?” Marjorie asked drowsily.
    Staring up at the shadowed ceiling of their bedroom, Grant nodded. Then, realizing his wife couldn’t see him in the darkness, he said, “She’s on the passenger list. Her, and a half-dozen of her personal staff.”
    â€œDon’t let it worry you,” Marjorie advised sleepily. “She’s probably coming out here to give you some kind of award. You deserve it.”
    Grant knew better. Marjorie turned over and went to sleep, but Grant could not close his eyes. Katherine Westfall is coming here. Herself. With her hatchet men. That’s what they are, Grant knew. He’d looked them up in the nets. Since being named to the IAA’s governing council, Westfall and her flunkies had ruthlessly slashed the organization’s research budget. The teams exploring Mars depended now entirely on private money; they were even allowing tourists to visit the Martian village that they had excavated. The work on Venus was down to almost nothing, as well.
    And now she’s coming here.
    Turning on his side, Grant told himself, They can’t close us down! They can’t! Those creatures are intelligent. I’m sure of it.
    His mind kept returning to the mission, the journey into that immense alien sea. Twenty years ago, almost, yet he remembered every agonized moment of it. The surgical implants, the pain, the cold dread of being immersed in the high-pressure perfluorocarbon. Living in that slimy gunk, breathing it into his lungs instead of air.
    The rapture of being linked to the submersible’s systems, feeling the power of the fusion drive as your own heartbeat, seeing through the dark forbidding sea with eyes that went far beyond puny human capability. What was it Lane had said about being linked? Better than sex. It was, in a way. Beyond human. Godlike.
    It was dangerous, feeling all that power. The sin of pride. Hubris. They had nearly died in that deep, dark sea.
    But meeting the leviathans had been worth all the pain, all the danger to body and soul. Seeing those incredible creatures, bigger than mountains, huge, immense, living deep in the Jovian ocean, lords of their world.
    The mission had nearly killed them all. Lane O’Hara had been seriously hurt. Zeb Muzorewa, kind, thoughtful, gifted Zeb had almost died. Zeb had been Grant’s mentor, his guide. Grant had been lucky to survive the mission, lucky to