Peterson swung the rake up over his head, preparing to bring it down again. Just as he began his downward motion, Harris bolted forward like a charging ram. The rake flew through the air and clambered to the floor as Harris tackled Peterson around the waist. Both men fell to the floor, a tangled mess of flailing arms and legs.
Having been in his fair share of fights during his early military years, Harris knew that once the advantage was gained, you should never let your enemy regroup. And right now, Peterson was his enemy. He was the entire crew's enemy. Harris unleashed a flurry of blows to Peterson's kidneys that he knew would cause the man to pee blood for the next few weeks, but he needed to end this fight quickly and that usually did the trick. The effect was instantaneous.
Peterson clutched his side and winced. Harris stood and watched as Peterson's legs shook with the pain. The man was beaten.
Moving to the com console, Harris prepared to call the crew back from the surface. He didn't want anyone out of his sight until they understood what was happening to Peterson. He'd only turned his back to Peterson for five seconds.
"Interesting, the way you feel pain." It was Peterson.
Spinning around quickly, Harris almost fell over backward with surprise when he saw Peterson standing on his feet, looking as though nothing had happened. He wore no expression of pain and aside from the fresh wrinkles on his uniform, appeared just as he had when he first entered in the control center. Peterson charged forward, wildly flailing his fists.
Harris sidestepped, placed a hand behind Peterson's skull and extended his foot. Peterson went down hard, striking his forehead on the nearest console. The crack of bone on metal made Harris wince.
Petersons's body lay still on the floor, a pool of crimson liquid gathering around his head. With a slow jagged movement, Peterson moved his lips. "P…Plea…"
Harris starred at Petersons's lips, utterly amazed the man was still attempting to form words. A flash of movement to the side told Harris that Peterson's failed speaking attempt was all just a clever distraction. But the realization came too late. Looking down, Harris saw the rake swing across the floor in a wide arc. The pole clipped him behind both ankles with surprising force that sent him to the floor.
When he looked up, Peterson was already standing above him.
"Vaccination."
He wasn't sure if the man was just speaking gibberish or if he was pleading for some kind of cure to whatever was wreaking havoc with his mind. It didn't matter. As Peterson raised the rake above his head, Harris realized that he would die above Europa, along with the rest of the crew.
Peterson brought the rake down, smashing into Harris's skull. When Peterson stood back, blood gushed over the sides of Harris's face and onto the floor. Peterson stepped over the body and exited the control center.
* * * * *
The sphere dropped down, falling gently away from the TES cable like a slightly buoyant stone. With a dull pop two panels on opposite sides of the sphere opened and locked into position. They looked like flippers. From the rear, a previously concealed compartment opened. Two propellers extended out into the water and began spinning. Having transformed into a sleek submersible, the sphere launched through the water.
A bolt of excitement shot through Connelly. TES had already performed beyond their best predictions and now the submersible was working flawlessly.
Sitting behind the controls, which looked like those of a fighter jet, Connelly thrust the control stick forward and the sphere sped up. Robert fell back into the seat next to Connelly and quickly buckled himself in. "Warn me next time you're going to do that."
Connelly hardly heard the words. Her thoughts were preoccupied with catching the pod of bio-whales. They had covered a fairly large distance in a short amount of time. Determined not to lose sight of the creatures, Connelly pushed the sphere to its max speed of thirty knots, hoping that the creatures wouldn't mind a snooping tailgater.
Within a minute, they were pulling up behind the pod, gaining on the baby and what must be its mother, a sixty-foot behemoth swimming just above. Connelly eased up on the speed and kept pace with the pod. A squeeze on her arm broke her concentration. She looked at Robert, whose face was pale. "Be careful," he said. "Please."
Connelly grunted an unintelligible response that confirmed she had heard the words, but made no indication of whether or not she would heed Robert's warning. If these creatures wanted to lose them, they could—Connelly felt sure of it. If the bio-whales saw the sphere as a food source, they would have eaten them when the sphere was dangling helplessly from the surface. Twisting her lips, Connelly began a mental brawl, one side arguing Robert's point, the other compelling her to push forward.
With a deep sigh, Connelly eased back on the speed. Robert's advice was usually wise. It pained her to not venture closer. But as she slowed, so did the pod, like they were waiting for the sphere to catch up. As if to confirm Connelly's suspicions, the baby craned its head around, a feat an Earth whale could never do, and called to them. The sound was soft and inviting, like a deep resonating coo. Connelly looked at Robert, her eyes probing for his thoughts.
"Go ahead," he said with a quick nod. "If we're going to die while making first contact with an alien species, so be it."
"We made it this far," Connelly said. "We're not going to die." With that she accelerated the sphere forward, nearing the outer edge of the pod. They bobbed up and down in the wake of the bio-whale's pulsing wing.
Robert gripped the sides of his seat. "So says you."
With the pod of whales surrounding them, the interior of the sphere transformed into a world of glowing colors. Bio-whales swam on every side, some coming closer to take a peek, some paying no attention. Connelly half worked the controls and half gaped in amazement. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she worked to avoid a collision with one of the creatures, an accident which would certainly be fatal.
The light within the sphere suddenly grew brighter and Connelly found herself navigating around the head of the largest creature. Looking back, she could see all seventy-five feet stretched out. She wondered if this was as large as the creatures grew. Maybe there are other, larger specimens? she thought.
A large black eye, the size of a cantaloupe stared inside the sphere, watching them. Connelly stared right back into the eye and saw intelligence. A gentle moan vibrated from the creature's skull and vibrated the inside of the sphere. Connelly could feel her organs shake within her body. She wasn't sure what the noise meant. It could have been a warning, a greeting or just a grunt. But as Connelly looked into the giant's eye, she was sure it meant something. They were going to have to figure out what, someday.
"Umm, I feel ridiculous bringing this up now, but ahh, have we had the external cameras running?" Robert's voice sounded nervous.
Tension sprung into Connelly's body and panic set in before she had time to process the question. The sensation was much like the tricks her cousin Tom pulled on her when they were teenagers. He would look at her homework, license or other important document and say as seriously as he could, "You spelled your name wrong." Connelly always fell for it, feeling momentarily panicked while her mind reminded herself that it was impossible, she could never make such an obvious mistake. And even though she knew she had spelled her name right, she always double-checked after Tom left the room, just in case.
Connelly reached forward and checked the status of the external camera array. All were functioning. All were recording. Thank God.
A sudden shriek, louder than any sound Connelly had heard in her life, ripped through the interior of the sphere. Connelly and Robert both fell to the floor, clasping their hands over their ears. Even after the sound had dissipated, a constant ringing plagued her hearing. Connelly rubbed her head, clearing the confusion away. When she refocused her thoughts, something had changed.
It was dark.
Connelly pulled herself up and saw Robert searching the circumference of sphere, peering out into the pitch black water surr
ounding them. The bio-whales had left. Fast.
"Any sign of them?" Connelly asked.
Robert pointed into the distance. "I, ahh, I think they went that way…but they were moving fast. And that sound...Before I fell to the floor, I saw them swim away. I know there is no basis for me understanding what or how these creatures think, but they looked completely terrified."
"They're seventy-feet long, what could possibly threaten them?"
Click, click, click.
The sound was distinct from those of the bio-whales and came in three second intervals.
Connelly held her breath, listening.
Click, click, click.
"You know what that is." Robert said.
Connelly looked into Robert's glassy eyes. "Echolocation," she said.
Robert nodded. "Something's out there—something big—and as long as we're in the open water, there is no place, and I mean no place, we can hide."
CHAPTER 19 -- DIVE
Regret wasn't an emotion that Connelly often felt. Her entire life, aside from her bouts with anxiety, read like a textbook example of how to make positive choices. But since joining the Europa mission, it seemed her decision-making abilities were lackluster at best. Thinking about getting involved with Peterson was her first mistake. The experiment gone awry involving the plant incubator was her second. Her third mistake now appeared to be going for a spin in the TES, the consequences of which she and Robert now faced.
The electric glow of the distant schools of fish faded around them, returning the water to its previous pitch black state. Even the sea floor seemed less radiant, as though the tiny creatures and plant life were attempting to draw less attention by dimming their luminosity.
Connelly's eyes shifted to the top of the sphere's interior. The red light, which allowed their eyes to fully adjust to low light while providing enough illumination to see by, glowed brightly in the darkness. They would be easy to see.
We're attracting the creature, Connelly thought.
Click, click, click.
The sound was loud and continuous, repeating every three seconds. The muscles on Connelly's face contracted and tightened with each click until she felt her head would burst, spewing her liquefied mind over the glass of the sphere.
"We need to turn the red light off!" Connelly shouted between clicks.
Click, click, click.
Connelly covered her ears with her hands.
Through the clicks she heard Robert's voice. He was shouting, but she couldn't understand what he was saying. All she could focus on was shutting off the damn light. Then maybe whatever was lurking in the darkness would leave them alone long enough to make a hasty retreat to the surface. Connelly moved toward the red light and prepared to remove the colored glass and extract the bulb. The plan was to perform each move during the three second intervals.
Why didn't we put a light switch in here for that bulb! she thought.
A click of echolocation rang through her hands and into her ears, but it also shook the sphere violently. The creature must be close. She had three seconds.
After removing her hands from her ears, Connelly reached for the red glass light fixture. She unscrewed the glass two full rotations in three seconds and then recovered her ears. She waited for the next echolocation to sound out.
It never came.
Instead, she felt an insistent tapping on her shoulder. She turned and saw Robert standing behind her. His face was unusually placid, like he had just received an injection of Botox. "Don't bother," he said, "it's here." Robert stepped aside.
Through the glass, Connelly saw a wriggling worm-like creature, no bigger than a large terrestrial earth night crawler. Glowing brilliant red, the small creature seemed to dance in space like a puppet being dangled by a string. Like a worm on a hook. Like an angler fish. The angler fish, which lives in the deepest, darkest portions of the Atlantic and Antarctic oceans, dangles a glowing lure to attract prey towards its massive, dagger toothed jaws.
Connelly's shoulders fell down in defeat. "Oh shit."
Robert ducked down slowly, slid to a side panel and popped it open. He began fiddling with the internal wiring.
Connelly glanced down at him, afraid that any motion, would attract the attention from the creature of unknown size that lurked silently outside the sphere. "What are you doing?"
"Rewiring the lighting controls so we can control the light from down here without being attached to the topside cables."
Connelly gently slid her body down and kneeled next to Robert while keeping her eyes glued on the red worm doing a happy dance outside their window. "And that will accomplish what?"
Robert shifted his body under a bundle of wires. He broke two, stripped them quickly with his teeth and reconnected them oppositely. "I'm assuming that most creatures in this ocean haven't seen anything brighter than what we've already seen. Bioluminescence isn't typically glaringly bright, though it may sometimes seem so in the dark."
"Get to the point, please," Connelly said.
"We'll blind it…if only long enough to escape. Turn on everything we've got and make a run for it. It should be like staring into the sun for these creatures. And if the effect is lasting, we should have plenty of time to—"
Click…
The sound was gentle.
Probing.
"We don't have much time," Robert said.
Connelly tensed her muscles and prepared to spring into action. "I'll handle the controls. You work the lights."
Robert nodded.
"Go!"
* * * * *
Like a stone monolith, Peterson stood before the door to the decon room. He was fully garbed in his PMS and holding his hood-like helmet in his hands. Moving independently of his body, Peterson turned his head to the left. His eyes scanned back and forth left to right in a rapid motion as he read a bright red sign.
WARNING: PERSONAL MULTI-PRESSURE SUITS MUST BE SEALED BEFORE ENTERING DECONTAMINATION ROOM. FAILURE TO DO SO MAY RESULT IN DEATH.
Peterson's eyes lingered on the last word. He reached out and grazed his fingers across the letters, feeling the subtle indentations of the printed word.
"Death," Peterson said, his voice low and distorted.
His eyes moved up, scanning the previous words. He stopped on, "DECONTAMINATION ROOM." Again, he eased his hand across the text. He turned his attention to the sign above the decon room door, which read: DECONTAMINATION ROOM — DOCKING BAY AHEAD.
"Decontamination is death."
As though an electric shock had just jolted through his fingers, Peterson yanked his hand away from the sign. He took one step toward the decon room and stopped. He looked down with wide, red eyes and saw the helmet still in his hands. A gasp escaped his lips and he quickly flung the helmet onto his head and locked it down. His breaths came rapid and deep.
The doors slid open as he stepped inside. He looked down at his hands as the decon room doors closed behind him. They were shaking. The doors slammed shut.
When the exit to the decon room opened up into the docking bay, Peterson burst out, gasping for air. Like frozen fish being flung at a Japanese market, he slammed onto the smooth floor of the docking bay and slid, stopping in a rigid fetal position.
Muscles twitching, Peterson slowly uncurled. Wrinkles of anxiety crisscrossed his forehead. Sounding like a small child coming down from a crying fit, Peterson's voice mixed with each vibrato breath, until slowly, he regained control of his breathing of his body. He stood, inspected the PMS and then struck out in a bold stride across the docking bay.
He stopped in front of Lander Two, which was identical to Lander One. In under a minute he had entered the lander, strapped himself in and started the engines. As the docking bay doors spread open, Peterson caught sight of the flashing lights on Jupiter's cloudy surface. The electrical storms were still raging. The occasional flash illuminated a slice of red on the moon's surface—a vast field of Europhids.
With every show of crimson on the surface o
f Europa, Peterson's body became more relaxed. He gripped the controls and gently lifted off the docking bay floor. As he guided the craft out into space, he caught a glimpse of a red glow, rippling from a portion of the moon's surface. It was a display never seen from this point of view and a genuine smile creased his lips.
"Come in, Harris, are you reading me? Over." Choi's voice seemed like a thunderous boom in Peterson's ear. He shook and crashed his knee into the console. "If you can hear me, something strange is going on down here. The Europhids…I think there is more to them than we know. I think you should watch Peterson more closely. I'm going to call the TES crew and rendezvous with them back at Lander One unless you tell me otherwise. If you are receiving this, reply when you have coms back. Over."
Peterson squinted and glared at the surface of Europa with the intensity of a coiled snake, ready to strike. Through gritted teeth, he spoke, "Decontamination."
* * * * *
A dull, constant pain twisted in the sockets behind Robert's eyes. With every movement, the pain cut through his skull. And it didn't help that he was moving as quick as he could. He was working the new lighting controls at a frantic pace, setting them up to all turn on at once. It was more difficult than he thought it would be. Connelly was ready at the sphere's control stick, waiting for the world to glow.
"Robert," Connelly said, her voice stretched with tension, "when I said, 'go,' and jumped up here I thought you were going to turn on the lights?"
"Almost there…" Robert's squeezed his tongue white between his lips. His fingers flew over the keys, finalizing the procedure. "Got it!" Robert slammed down the final key.
Bright white light burst into the water like a flash-bang grenade. But in that blinding moment, Robert refused to close his eyes. He had to see what lurked outside the sphere. When he saw the beast, he wished he hadn't.
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