As on a Darkling Plain

by Ben Bova

  Alone now. Ship’s completely mine again. Feels good. Nothing around us. Riding smooth and easy.

  Funny I dreamed about Marlene. Haven’t thought about her since the accident. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. Too logical. Maybe I just remembered about her while I tried to sleep.

  THERE IS NO RECORD OF YOUR DREAM IN THE SHIP’S LOG.

  Damned right there isn’t.

  MISSION OBJECTIVE FOURTEEN REQUIRES THAT PSYCHOLOGICAL RECORDS BE MAINTAINED AS FULLY AS POSSIBLE.

  I know. They want to study our dreams. They claim it’s important for the next mission. Especially if we don’t make it back. Get it into the recorder so they’ll be able to figure out if we went off the deep end.

  VOCALIZATION OF SUBCONSCIOUS ACTIVITIES SUCH AS DREAMS IS HELD IN STRICT PRIVACY.

  Sure. Only two or three dozen psychs will hear me spill my guts. Okay, can’t argue with mission objective fourteen. I’ll try to remember the dream. For the psychs. For the next set of poor bastards they send in here.

  It was the time we jetted over to the sequoia forest. After a couple of months on that flat Texas scrubland, we wanted to see mountains and real trees again. Not the transplants at the Training Center.

  The park was filled with tourists, even a plane load of Scouts from Indonesia. We ducked off the main trail and climbed up away from them. The trees are as big and tall as rocket boosters; been standing there for two thousand years. And those damned people crawling around clicking cameras, yelling after kids, carving initials. Sacrilegious.

  “Look at ‘em,” I said to Marlene when we stopped for breath halfway up the slope. “Not a care in the world. This damned Titan business doesn’t mean a thing to them.”

  She answered, “Perhaps they’re trying very hard to forget about Titan.”

  She was inclined to be serious: a Germanic trait, I guess. She’d already told me several times that she wasn’t going to fall in love with me because the chances were that we’d be sent on different missions, and besides she was older than I.

  We worked our way deeper into the forest, hiking up the slope, away from the noise of the tourists. We both had backpacks; plenty of food. The big trees made a canopy of cool shade far overhead, but every once in a while a shaft of sunlight would break through and set off highlights in Marlene’s hair.

  “Actually,” she said thoughtfully, “life has become much better since the discovery of the buildings on Titan. All the international tensions that our fathers worried about have dried up. The idea of a war between nations seems ridiculous now.”

  I laughed. “Sure. Why worry about blowing each other to hell when there’s a race somewhere that can do it for us?”

  “But it’s much more distant a threat, a remote possibility. That race visited the solar system thousands of years ago. Perhaps thousands of centuries ago. They may never come back.”

  “Then why are the machines still working?” I asked. “And what are they doing?”

  “That is the disquieting part of it,” she admitted.

  We found a flat stretch near a cold stream. We could hear birds now, and a squirrel jabbered at us from the base of a burnt-out tree. I unslung the pack from my shoulders and we had lunch.

  Later on, when we were stretched out side by side, I asked her, “You were there. What’s it really like?”

  She was staring up into the trees. “It’s... very hard to describe. Not the physical conditions; you’ve seen tapes on the buildings and you know what Titan’s like....”

  “Pretty damned dark and gloomy, except when Saturn’s up.”

  “You forget Saturn’s in the sky,” Marlene said. “You can... feel the machinery throbbing. The ground vibrates. When you’re near the buildings, the sensation you get... it makes your flesh crawl.”

  “They ought to hit it with a nuke missile and make everybody feel better.”

  “But suppose the machines are sending out a signal? Some wave length that we can’t detect? If we stop that signal, it would tell those who built the machines that it’s time to return to the solar system.” Her eyes were wide now with real fear.

  I had run out of flip answers.

  “I spent three years there,” she was quieter now, “and we knew just as much about the machines when I left as when I had arrived. We don’t dare dismantle them. I’m not even sure that we could if we tried.”

  I lay back and watched the swaying green canopy was above us. Fresh and alive and good. “Must be like living next to a haunted house.”

  “That’s exactly it.”

  I put my arm around her shoulders. Instead of drawing closer to me, though, she said:

  “Bob, when I was on Titan...”

  “I don’t want to talk about Titan or anything else.”

  “No... I’ve got to tell you.”

  “Marlene, you don’t have to....”

  “Yes, I do,” she said. She sat up, then turned to look back at me. “I saw a man try to kill himself on Titan. He just walked off into the sea one day. We barely got to him in time. He was unlocking his helmet when we reached him.”

  I must have shrugged.

  “You see... I was in love with him. He was married, but his wife had stayed on Earth, and we...” Her voice trailed off.

  “But I thought you and I... we’ve got something good going between us, Marlene.”

  “I know. Honestly, I thought I had forgotten him, that what happened on Titan was all over... but yesterday I saw him again. He’s at the Training Center now, trying to qualify for a star mission.”

  “And you still love him?”

  There was pain in her eyes. “Bob, I don’t know. Until yesterday you were the only man I cared about. But now—he didn’t even see me, I only caught a glimpse of him as he got off the shuttle....”

  “Maybe you were mistaken. Maybe it isn’t him.”

  “No, I checked. It’s him. He’s been in the hospital for more than a year, but now he’s at the Training Center. It’s him.”

  Great, I thought. So we’ll have a triangle heading out for the stars. Maybe we can all get freezer beds next to each other.

  That was before I knew I’d be sent to Jupiter, not on a star mission. And before she died.

  Andrei’s back. Checking the sonar transmitter, matching its output against the computer memory of the whales’ frequency. Flash me a comparison. Looks good. Check sonar. Nothing out there now, sea’s empty.

  Controls feel sluggish. Nothing definite, no alarms. Just not responding as smoothly as they should. Maybe it’s the outside pressure. Up to seventy tons per square centimeter.

  Andrei’s not plugged in yet, still playing with the sonar.

  “Looks good to me,” I tell him.

  He nods. But he looks sort of grim, preoccupied. “Yes, I suppose it will do.” He hesitates. Then, “Can you handle the controls by yourself for a while longer? I want to check something with Speer.”

  “You feel sick?”

  “I’m having a little trouble breathing.”

  I look at him. He means it. “But you’re not breathing. The gills are.”

  Frowning, “Yes, of course. I mean I’m having some soreness in my chest. Perhaps I’m merely tired.”

  “Well, you’d better check it out.”

  He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be worried. It’s nothing serious, I’m sure. Speer will probably say it’s psychological.... You know, I really don’t enjoy being plugged into the ship. It bothers me. It makes me feel less than human.”

  “Less? I get just the opposite feeling.”

  He bangs my shoulder. “Good. I’ll let Speer poke at me and then take my rest period. Call me if anything unusual develops.”

  That’s almost funny. “How do you define unusual?”

  He laughed. “Use your judgment, comrade.”

  Alone again. Odd that Andrei should feel that way. Being plugged in... it’s beyond being human. Can think with the speed of light, see what no human could ever see for himself, swim the depths of Jupiter�
��s seas. All human frailties and fears wiped out, buried, forgotten.

  SYSTEM ANOMALY REPORT.

  Go ahead.

  PRESSURE TRANSDUCERS ON MAIN HULL SHOW LOCAL INCREASE OF EXTERIOR PRESSURE ON PORT QUARTER OF NOSE SECTION. INTERIOR PRESSURE BETWEEN MAIN AND SECONDARY HULLS HAS BEEN INCREASED AUTOMATICALLY TO COMPENSATE.

  Display data.

  Curves don’t look too bad. All parameters within tolerable limits. Check possible reasons for pressure rise and display most likely.

  LOGIC WORKING. MOST LIKELY CAUSE IS HULL CORROSION LEADING TO WEAKENING OF MAIN HULL STRUCTURAL STRENGTH. SECOND MOST LIKELY CAUSE IS TRANSDUCER FAILURE. AUTO-CHECK SHOWS TRANSDUCER OPERATING NORMALLY.

  Hull corrosion. That could lead to major failure.

  ALL PARAMETERS WITHIN TOLERABLE LIMITS.

  At present. Display projected estimate of hull integrity over next twenty-four hours.

  INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR PROJECTION.

  Understood. Monitor hull pressure continuously. Flash yellow alert when structural integrity drops five percent from current value.

  THAT WILL STILL BE WITHIN TOLERABLE LIMITS.

  Understood. Execute order as given.

  UNDERSTOOD.

  And also review all mission objectives by priority rating. List all priority objectives that can be accomplished in periods of twelve, twenty-four, thirty-six, and forty-eight hours.

  UNDERSTOOD. WORKING.

  And maintain continuous watch on hull pressure.

  EXECUTING AS PREVIOUSLY ORDERED. SONAR CONTACT.

  Display. Yes, there they are. Ten... fifteen... seventeen of them. Range?

  SIXTY-THREE KILOMETERS.

  Display their course and relative velocity. Estimate time to intercept.

  TWO HOURS TEN MINUTES PLUS OR MINUS FIVE PERCENT.

  Execute intercept course. Any change in hull pressure?

  ALL PARAMETERS WITHIN TOLERABLE LIMITS.

  “Seventeen big ones on sonar,” I sing out on the intercom. “If they’ve detected us at all, our sonar spoofing has fooled them. So far.”

  The scientists must have been sleeping. Takes them a few minutes to get started again. Now I can see that they’ve all got the sonar display on their screens. Andrei’s in the cocoon; leave him there. Nothing will happen for two hours or more.

  Sonar view again. “We don’t know how sensitive their accoustical gear is,” I tell the scientists. “We’re matching their own outputs as closely as possible. Our engine noise is muffled as much as we can. We should run silent, in case they’re sensitive to other frequencies. Don’t make unnecessary noise.”

  It’s easy to keep quiet. The whales are just too awesome for words. Even in the gray, ghostly sonar view they look tremendous, gliding effortlessly through the ocean in a loose herd. We’re gaining on them slowly, holding our breaths.

  Can’t see much detail about them with sonar. But they’re slowly getting bigger and bigger. It’s like driving toward the mountains from the flatlands. You think you’re close, but they just keep looming higher and wider and grander all the time. Sonar’s getting jumbled now, too many echoes bouncing around. Display’s starting to look like a badly tuned video picture. Switch to infrared.

  Better. They radiate nicely. Look slightly orange. They’ve got tail flukes something like a whale’s; maybe smaller in proportion to the body. And a fin or something under the gut. Edge closer to them, careful, don’t make any sudden moves, nothing that will scare them.

  Hard to tell their real size, nothing to compare them against. Give me a rundown on the numbers you’ve got.

  AVERAGE LENGTH: TWO POINT EIGHT KILOMETERS. MAXIMUM LENGTH: THREE POINT SEVEN KILOMETERS. MINIMUM LENGTH: TWO POINT ONE FIVE KILOMETERS. DENSITY UNKNOWN. MASS UNKNOWN.

  Pulling up astern of them now. Feel like a flea trailing a parade of elephants. It’d take ten minutes to travel the length of one of them with our engines on max standard power. God, it’s been two hours since we first sighted them!

  Andrei slips quietly into his couch.

  “Want the controls?” I whisper, glancing at him with the intercom eyes.

  He shakes his head. “No, you’re doing very well.” He pulls the sensor unit up in front of his eyes, but doesn’t touch any of the controls or communications connectors.

  Ling pipes up, “Can we pull closer to them?”

  “Don’t go between them,” Andrei orders.

  “Are we close enough to use video?” Ludongo asks.

  “What do you think?” I ask Andrei.

  “I doubt that they’re sensitive to light,” he says. “Try a few short bursts with the laser first, to see if there is any reaction.”

  I steer out alongside the herd, then settle as close as I dare to one of the outer bulls. Not that I can tell a damned thing about their sex, if they have any. But the outermost whales are the biggest. Laser beam doesn’t seem to bother him. Put it on fast scan and hook in the video. Back away so we can get the whole animal on the viewscreen.

  Listen to them gasp!

  Now we can see them for real, in color and all. They’re staggering. Built more like an armless squid than anything else. Flukes in the tail, but they seem to be more for maintaining trim than for propulsion.

  Mammoth open mouth up front; maybe it’s permanently open. Can’t see any teeth. There’s a siphon under the belly pulsing rhythmically. No wonder they can dash so fast; they’re jet-propelled. No eyes, no fins except the tail flukes. Sleek and streamlined. Powerful. Glossy gray-green color. Mouth’s big enough to swallow a town. If they had teeth, we’d be a toothpick size for them. Pretty thought!

  Nobody’s saying a word now. I could watch these giants all day. They’re just gliding along in formation, outer bulls weaving back and forth a little. Can’t make out any real small members inside the pack, but there’s a pretty tight knot of cows in the center. Maybe they’re protecting the youngsters.

  From what?

  Every instrument on the ship’s grinding away; power drain’s at max. Just keeping up with these whales while they’re grazing is straining the engines.

  “Is there any way we can get samples of their tissue?” Ling asks. I hope it’s rhetorical.

  Bromley says, “I suppose we could slice off a bit with the high-power laser.”

  I glance at Andrei.

  He reaches for the intercom unit. “Our orders are to conduct remote observations of any life forms discovered. No direct contact unless it is forced upon us. No samples, I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, come now,” Bromley argues. “A little nick off one of those flukes...”

  “We have no way of knowing how the animal would react,” Andrei says. “I wouldn’t want to be close to one when it started thrashing around, would you?”

  No answer. Discussion ended.

  “How’re you feeling?” I ask him.

  “Not too bad. Speer says he can’t find anything physically wrong.”

  “Want to rest some more?”

  “No.... It’s time for your rest period, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “Never mind. Go back and sleep.”

  It’s funny. He sounds so reluctant. He doesn’t want to plug in. And he doesn’t realize how much I don’t want to unplug.

  “Something you ought to know.” I tell him about the hull, show him the computer’s estimates, and then flash the priority lists.

  “I haven’t told the scientists about it yet, and observing the whales overrides all the other priority mission objectives. Looks like the pressure’s holding steady, even though it’s a little high. Probably the hull will be okay as long as we don’t go any deeper.”

  Andrei still hasn’t plugged in. I can see his whole face. He looks positively happy.

  “I understand. We will start the twelve-hour priority list and do as much as we can. If the hull still is good after that, we will stretch it for another twelve hours. But that’s all. After that we go up.”

  “What do you think the scientists are
going to say?”

  He shrugs. “That is irrelevant.”

  Fine by me. Let him argue with them. Andrei slowly plugs himself in and takes over the control of the ship. It’s time for me to go.

  UNPLUG.

  PLUG IN.

  Pain! Lights flashing, ship tumbling wildly.

  “What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

  I’m slapping on connectors as fast as I can. Ship’s lurching like a runaway drunk. Andrei looks bad.

  “Can’t... control... can’t...”

  “Speer! Get up here fast!” Check all systems. Give me just the emergency data.

  STABILIZER OVERLOADED. MANUAL OVERRIDE REQUIRED.

  I’m trying, I’m trying! Outside view. Nothing. Where’d the whales go?

  “Speer! Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m right here!” he screams through my earphone from a few centimeters away.

  Inside view. Speer’s unplugging Andrei. Captain’s arms are floating limply, head lolling back, mouth sagging open. Ship still buffeting. Fighting for control. Stabilizer coming around... slewing and rolling....

  “What the hell happened? I was in the cocoon when everything seemed to bust loose.”

  “I don’t know,” Speer shouts. “It all happened so fast. The captain yelled something and the ship seemed to roll completely over. Lights went off for a moment. I fell out of my couch.... I think Dr. Ling’s been hurt.”

  Got her righted now. Bouncing’s smoothed out. Stabilizer starting to respond on its own. Any red alerts?

  NO RED ALERTS. ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONING WITHIN TOLERABLE LIMITS.

  Speer’s still struggling with the captain.

  “Ludongo, Bromley... one of you get up here and give Speer a hand.”

  We’re all in one piece. Run a complete systems check, display anything outside nominal values. Display hull pressure.

  ONE PERCENT INCREASE IN PRESSURE AT PORT NOSE SECTION. STILL WITHIN TOLERABLE LIMITS. ALL OTHER SYSTEMS FUNCTIONING AT NORMAL VALUES.

  Okay. Rerun the sensor tapes for the past ten minutes so I can figure out what happened.

  Video view, good. There are the whales, still feeding. Everything peaceful enough... what are those? Different... look at the whales buck! There they go, top speed, right out of sight. Wide-angle sonar view now... more animals zooming in. Not whales, though. Too small. Different shape.