Curse of the Iris

by Jason Fry

  Tycho’s eyes turned to Mavry, as did those of his siblings. Their father’s mouth was a thin line in a face gone pale.

  “Ohh, I guess that was a secret,” Oshima said, baring her yellowed teeth at Tycho in a predatory smile. “Let that be a lesson for you, boy. Secrets don’t stay secret. Just like treasures don’t stay buried.”

  In the grav-sled, Mavry saw his communicator’s message light was blinking. He listened, then shook his head in dismay and tapped out a brief message in reply.

  “It’s your mother,” he said, putting the grav-sled in drive. “Sounds important.”

  “Aren’t you going to speak to her?” Carlo asked.

  “Not from here. Best to get back as quick as we can.”

  “Dad, what did Oshima mean—” asked Yana.

  “Not now,” Mavry said sharply.

  Tycho caught his sister’s eye and shook his head. She scowled at him.

  “When, then?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mavry said. “Just not now.”

  They rode back to Galileo Station in strained silence. Tycho stared out the window at the grim landscape. Beside him, he knew, Yana was gnawing at the same disturbing questions he was. So too, he imagined, was Carlo. But perhaps not. And he was sad, suddenly, to think that he’d never know. Tycho could usually guess what his twin sister was thinking, but he and Carlo had never had a conversation like that and probably never would.

  They finally reached Galileo Station and returned the grav-sled, haggling briefly over the nick in the glass, then took the elevator back up to the landing platform. Mavry looked around at the bleak landscape and shook his head.

  “Well, it’s been a lovely visit,” he said. “Reminds me of why I wanted to get off this godforsaken moon in the first place.”

  “Where did your family live?” Yana asked tentatively.

  “Nowhere near here—our homestead was out by the Amirami flows,” Mavry said. “I couldn’t wait to get into space, but my father actually liked it here. Or at least he liked it better than Europa.”

  “Grandfather Malone was from Europa?” Yana asked.

  “Yes and no,” Mavry said. “Came here in the Resettling, with his father, and was happy to do so. He’d get mad if you brought up Europa. He said it didn’t matter where he’d been born—he was from Io.”

  Tycho came to an abrupt halt, and Yana smacked into him, dropping a case of emergency flares.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “We have to get back to Callisto,” Tycho said.

  “Great idea. It would help if you’d get out of my . . . wait a sec. What is it you think you’ve figured out?”

  Tycho shook himself and met the curious gazes of his siblings and father.

  “Not till we’re on the gig,” he said, looking around suspiciously.

  Yana managed to restrain herself until the gig emerged from Io’s envelope of plasma into the emptiness of space.

  “Now what’s this great revelation of yours?” she asked.

  “The treasure,” Tycho said. “There’s somewhere else it could be—somewhere we didn’t think about.”

  “Tyke, enough,” Carlo said. “Let’s just go home.”

  “Good idea—because the treasure’s in the ocean beneath Callisto.”

  “What? That doesn’t make any sense,” Yana said.

  “Listen to me. Our cousins have run the Water Authority for a long time—what if Johannes and Josef borrowed equipment from them, just like we did, and hid the treasure where they could get at it a lot easier than they could on Europa?”

  “But Loris said it was beneath Josef’s home,” Carlo objected.

  “He didn’t say which home. Grandfather Malone was from Europa, but he was also from Io. Just like Josef Unger was from Europa, but he was also from Callisto. They both emigrated during the Resettling. Remember?”

  “Tyke, this is crazy,” Yana said. “I asked about Josef’s home, and Loris said it was at the southern end of the Sidon Flexus. He talked about Europa, not Callisto.”

  “No, that’s not what you asked him. You asked him where Josef lived on Europa. And he told you.”

  “Why is the Securitat drilling there, then?” Mavry asked.

  “Because they’re making the same assumptions we have, Dad. They’ve got someone’s scanner, they know it works best in water, and they know where Josef lived. But what if we’re all overlooking something?”

  “Even if you’re right, Loris said the treasure was lost or stolen,” Carlo said. “Callisto’s ocean goes down hundreds of kilometers—if it fell in there, the pressure crushed it into a pancake.”

  “Maybe,” Tycho said. “But don’t you want to find out? Before we decide we’re beaten, isn’t it worth taking a look at home, right beneath our own feet?”

  14

  THE CALLISTO DEPTHS

  When they returned to Darklands, Diocletia was waiting at the bottom of the ramp with her arms folded.

  “Uh-oh,” Mavry muttered under his breath.

  “And how was Europa?” she demanded as Huff clanked up behind her, his artificial eye gleaming up at them. Tycho tried not to stare at his grandfather and betray the thoughts chasing themselves through his head.

  “Europa was better than Io,” Mavry said.

  “Io?” Diocletia asked, looking stunned.

  “Arrr, Mavry,” Huff rumbled. “What’ve you gone and done now, lad?”

  “Things,” Mavry said. “There wasn’t time to discuss it.”

  “There wasn’t time to discuss it, but there was time to load the underwater gear into the grav-sled?” Diocletia asked. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

  “I’ll explain. But first, I can tell something else has happened—something that doesn’t involve us. What is it?”

  “You’d all better sit down,” Diocletia said.

  The Hashoones settled themselves around the table. Parsons materialized with tea.

  “Where’s Aunt Carina?” Carlo asked.

  “Trying to clean up your mess,” Diocletia said. “Three hours after you rushed off to Europa without consulting anybody, the Ice Wolves raided it with a pocket cruiser and three frigates.”

  “Mox,” Yana said.

  “Yes . . . the cruiser was confirmed as the Geryon. JDF units in orbit drove Mox off after a brief skirmish.”

  “That’s bold, even for Thoadbone,” Mavry said. “But why is this our mess?”

  “Well, Mavry, perhaps because they’d just intercepted you. Imagine you’re a Securitat agent and connect the dots: the Ice Wolves have been recruiting Jovian spacers and pirates to their cause. Four Jovian privateers make a harebrained attempt to con their way down to the surface of Europa. Then, hours later, the Ice Wolves try to run the blockade.”

  “They think we were running interference for Mox?” Mavry asked, looking offended. “That’s insane.”

  “Maybe so, but that don’t mean there ain’t folks what believe it,” Huff rumbled as Parsons poured the tea.

  “Carina’s trying to talk sense into them, but it’s a near thing,” Diocletia said, taking a gulp of tea and closing her eyes. “So if you also shot up a Perimeter Patrol frigate above Io, you’d better tell me now.”

  “Nothing like that,” Mavry said. “Just an unpleasant conversation with an old colleague. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  Diocletia’s teacup rattled in its saucer.

  “You didn’t,” she said. “You’re lucky she didn’t shoot you.”

  “Oshima?” Huff roared. “You should’ve taken me, lad. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to look through crosshairs and see that treasonous she-worm.”

  “Grandpa—” Yana began, but Mavry held up a finger in warning.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “You’re lucky the four of you weren’t clapped in irons for trespassing and attempted piracy at Europa,” said Diocletia. “You’re lucky that . . .”

  She subsided, shaking her head but still smoldering.

/>   “So what happens now?” Carlo asked after a moment.

  Diocletia exhaled slowly.

  “The Union leadership is determined to hit the Ice Wolves and hit them hard. There’s a council of war set for the day after tomorrow at High Port. We’ll be attending—provided we haven’t been stripped of our letter of marque or locked up for treason before then.”

  She glared at Mavry over the rim of her teacup.

  “Day after tomorrow?” Tycho asked.

  His mother’s eyes stopped trying to drill a hole in her husband and snapped to him.

  “Yes, Tycho. Why? Do you have other plans?”

  “It’s the Iris cache. I know where it is. Where it really is.”

  Diocletia sighed.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “The Iris cache is beneath the presidential mansion on Ganymede. And you four geniuses want to wear fake mustaches and fly over there with shovels.”

  Tycho started to explain, but Diocletia, hand upraised, looked away before he was done with his first sentence.

  “That’s enough, Tycho. Chasing that treasure has been nothing but trouble. What’s happening right now is deadly serious, and we need to focus on it, not rainbows and pots of gold. Wherever the Iris cache is, it can rot for all I care.”

  She got up from the table and strode away, heading for the ramp. Tycho pushed back his chair as well, determined to follow her and make her hear him out.

  “No, Tycho,” Mavry said. “I’ll try later, but now’s not the time for that discussion—or any others. Go over the underwater simulation again. Yana and Carlo will help you.”

  “Forget it. I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” Carlo said.

  “Belay that,” Mavry said. “I promise you we’ll sort things out later. For now, you three are crewmates and I need you to act like it.”

  Parsons, unperturbed as always, appeared to take away the tea.

  Every Hashoone child learned that sound traveled through Darklands in ways that could be hard to predict—for example, from the simulation room to the bedrooms a level above and below. Over the years, many ambitious young Hashoones had failed to shut the door during an early-morning or late-night simulation, then looked up from the virtual world to discover angry relatives roused from sleep.

  Tycho, Yana, and Carlo had just finished carrying the impeller and the underwater suit down from the garage when they heard the argument carrying up the ramp from their parents’ bedroom a level below. From the sounds, Tycho guessed Mavry had walked up the ramp and encountered Diocletia leaving their quarters, and their disagreement had begun across the doorway.

  They couldn’t hear every word, but the bits and pieces told them enough.

  “. . . beyond foolish to do such a thing without discussing it . . .”

  “. . . no time to debate it . . .”

  “. . . lucky you’re not all in jail . . .”

  “. . . wouldn’t be saying that if we’d succeeded . . .”

  “. . . endangered our letter of marque . . .”

  “. . . but they’ve worked so hard, and together too . . .”

  “. . . your insubordination put them and us in danger . . .”

  Until, mercifully, one of their parents shut the door.

  “I really wish I hadn’t heard that,” Tycho said.

  “I could say that about a lot of things today,” Yana replied.

  Carlo just looked impatient. “Come on, let’s get this equipment hooked up so we can get this over with.”

  “That doesn’t bother you, hearing something like that?” Yana asked.

  “No,” Carlo said, looking away. “Why should it?”

  “Because they’re our parents?” Yana said, incredulous.

  “They are, but we’re a starship crew. You heard what Dad said earlier—we have a job to do. So let’s do it.”

  “Oh, cut it out, Carlo. It’s us—you can get upset about something without its going in the Log.”

  “I’m not upset,” Carlo said, crouching down to hook up the armor’s diagnostic ports.

  “Right. I forgot, you’re above all this. None of it means anything to you—not Mom and Dad fighting, not what Oshima said about Grandpa and the software program, not the idea that our parents were going to break up the clan. . . .”

  Carlo got abruptly to his feet, the armor’s ceramic chest plate clattering on the floor.

  “What about it?” he demanded, his scar white against a face gone red. “It’s all ancient history! Haven’t you had enough living in the past, trying to measure up to the glory of the great Jupiter pirates? I’m tired of Grandfather’s story, of Aunt Carina’s story, of Mom and Dad’s story. It’s time for us to write our story. Why don’t you see that?”

  “Because there is no their story and our story!” Tycho burst out. “It’s the same story!”

  Carlo shook his head. “You just keep telling yourself that, Tyke. You keep telling yourself that and see how far it gets you.”

  If there were more arguments during the night, they took place behind closed doors. When Tycho sat down for breakfast, Diocletia and Mavry were in their usual places, not chatting like they usually did, but no longer projecting a prickly hostility.

  Carina, however, looked up from her mediapad and nodded at Tycho pleasantly enough.

  “So are you ready to go down the pipe and see if you’re right about the location of our treasure?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Tycho managed to say. His eyes jumped instinctively to his father, but Mavry was studiously focused on chosing his next scone, while Diocletia stared fixedly into her teacup. Whatever drama had happened to change her mind, he’d missed it.

  Tycho was briefly elated but wished his aunt had waited until after breakfast—his hunger had vanished, replaced by anxiety as pieces of simulator exercises unspooled in his head.

  After breakfast, Carina called up the rarely consulted manual for Darklands’ filtration system, a humming assemblage of machinery built around the homestead’s hulking steel water tank.

  “All right, let’s review,” she told the assembled Hashoones. “This hatch leads to a short maintenance shaft that enters the main pipe here. The main pipe runs nearly two hundred kilometers down to the ocean, beneath the crust. When I shut down the pump and filters, it will take about twenty minutes for the water to drain.”

  Carina pulled a key from a pouch on her belt and opened a panel on the side of the filtration machinery. She checked her mediapad, then tapped a combination of buttons. A red light began to blink, and a moment later the hum of the equipment rose in pitch, then abruptly ceased.

  “It’s so quiet,” Yana said. “Feels creepy.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not for long. Now listen. The main pipe is a little over a meter wide. There’s a detachable platform at the top that’s used to ferry equipment up and down—such as the impeller sled and, in this case, one brave midshipman.”

  She smiled at Tycho, who smiled back.

  “Once the pipe’s drained, Tycho will ride the platform down with the sled and the scanner. Tycho, you and Yana work well together, so she’ll be your point person for communications—but all of us will be here to help with anything you need.”

  Yana fitted her headset over her dark hair and nodded at her brother.

  “We’ll be fine. I’ve got plenty of experience telling Tyke what to do.”

  “Yeah, right,” Tycho said.

  “You’ve gone over how to use your equipment in the simulator, correct?” Carina asked.

  “Tyke got perfect marks last time,” Carlo said.

  “Good to hear,” Carina said. “The ocean is salty and mixed with a small amount of ammonia—that keeps it from freezing. Your suit was designed for these conditions. It’s rated for three hundred meters of water pressure, but you won’t need to worry about that—if the treasure’s down there, it’s almost certainly floating or anchored to something. Anyway, if you need it, you know how to use your suit’s jet pack.”

  “Arrr,” Huff said.
“Terrible being down there under all that rock. Like a tomb—”

  “Why don’t we leave the briefing to Carina?” Mavry suggested.

  “It’s all right,” Tycho said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will be,” Carina said. “The biggest uncertainty is signal range. We don’t know how close the scanner has to be to the signal to detect it. We’ve loaded the coordinates of the old Unger homestead into the sled’s nav unit. Once you’re in the water, it should be about ten kilometers away.”

  Tycho nodded.

  “Now listen carefully, Tycho. You have three days’ worth of air. That’s for safety, not exploration. You know everything that’s happening with the Jovian Union these days and with this family. The last thing we need is to launch a rescue mission on top of everything else. Do not be reckless.”

  “I understand,” Tycho said. He blew his breath out in a long exhalation. “And I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  Once Tycho put on the bulky underwater suit, the hatchway looked a lot narrower. And the maintenance shaft smelled terrible—an acrid mix of ammonia and other chemicals.

  “Ugh,” he said. “How long is the trip down?”

  “Oh, only about five hours,” Mavry said with a smile.

  Tycho gave the pipe another unhappy sniff. “I’ll use my suit’s air. Besides, if something’s wrong, better to know at the top than at the bottom.”

  Carlo and Yana helped Tycho fit the helmet onto its collar and lock it. He adjusted the controls on the suit’s wrist pad, his breath loud in the confines of the helmet, and air began to flow.

  “You read me, Tyke?” Yana asked, the words coming a beat behind the sight of his sister’s lips moving.

  “Loud and clear. Do you read me?”

  “All green,” Yana said, giving him a thumbs-up. “First thing is to make sure the maintenance platform works.”

  Tycho stepped into the hatch and sank to his knees, ducking his head to crawl forward. After a meter, the maintenance shaft intersected the main pipe at a right angle. Tycho crept to the end of the shaft and activated his work light. Below him, an O of metal plunged straight down into darkness.

  It was some two hundred kilometers to the ocean below. Tycho wondered how long it would take him to fall if he should slip.