by Ben Bova
Delta form, faster, tighter formation. Look like manta rays or sharks. Zooming in like rocket planes... hey, they’re coming right at us!
Blackout.
Back to real time. Outside view. Still nothing. Whatever they were, they’re gone.
Intercom. Speer’s got Andrei on the emergency couch in medical bay, next to his own compartment. With these damned gills, you can’t tell if a man’s breathing or not. Close-up. Yep, the gills are pulsing. But damned slow. And why’d they have to make them green?
“Speer, how’s he doing?”
“I... I don’t know,” Speer says, looking miserable. “He has some of the symptoms of shock. Blood pressure’s very low. I’m going to try pressure cuffs to pump the blood back up from his legs and lower torso.”
“Dr. Ling needs help also,” Ludongo says.
Look in on Ling’s compartment. He’s got a gash on his forehead. Blood seeping out making a reddish cloud that drifts in the circulation currents up toward the exhaust duct in the overhead. Ludongo’s in there with him.
“It’s not a serious wound,” Ling says calmly. “Attend to the captain first.”
“Somebody put a patch on him, at least,” I say.
Ludongo looks up at the intercom screen.
Bromley, back in his own cubicle, says, “I’ll get a first-aid kit.”
Okay. They’re helping each other. Ship’s handling all right now. Controls still sluggish, though. Stabilizer acting okay. Andrei must’ve turned off our fake-whale signal. Why?
“Does anyone understand what happened to us?” Ludongo asks. He’s sitting alongside Ling, who now has a white plastic gummed onto his brown skin from one nonexistent eyebrow halfway back to the top of his skull. It’s about three times more bandage than the cut needed, but at least the bleeding’s stopped.
“We were attacked by the sharks, or whatever they were,” I tell them.
Ling agrees. “I was watching the viewscreen when it happened. The new type of creature is clearly a predator.”
“Sharks,” Bromley mutters.
“And we outsmarted ourselves,” I realize. “Our sonar trick fooled the sharks. They thought we were a whale. When the real whales took off and we just stood here, they jumped us.”
“But how?” Ludongo asks. “Did they ram the ship? What did they do to us?”
Good questions. We rerun the tapes. Four times. In ultra-slow motion. The computer checks their sizes, speeds, closing rates. Up at the front end of their manta-shaped bodies is a snout that may or may not have a mouth in it. They’re about a quarter the size of the whales—still more than ten times our size. And the computer is very definite that the nearest shark was still half a kilometer away from us when Andrei shouted and the ship went haywire.
Now we’re all silent. Very, very silent. Speer standing over the captain, Ling on his couch with the other two beside him, and me up in the flight deck.
The sharks have something that can knock this ship for a loop. Something that acts over a range of half a kilometer. A weapon.
“You’re not suggesting that they’re actually intelligent?” Bromley asks finally, his voice strained.
“Who can say?” Ludongo replies. “Are dolphins intelligent?”
“We must learn more about them,” Ling says.
“But how?”
“Decoy them again,” I answer. “Put on our whale camouflage and wait for them to find us.”
“We can’t risk it!” says Speer. “The captain’s been hurt. What happens if you...” His voice fades out.
Bromley chips in. “Yes, and how long can you stay at the controls of this ship without collapsing from fatigue? I vote that we get out while we’re still able to. We’ve already discovered much more than anyone expected us to.”
“Still,” Ling says, “it would be extremely valuable to study these creatures further. If they are intelligent...”
I tell them, “Discovery of an intelligent creature falls under the primary mission objective. The most important task we have is to determine if the sharks are intelligent or not.”
“Wait,” Bromley says. “What about the hull? The captain told us that the hull is showing signs of corrosion and we must pull out in twelve hours. So any further arguments are purely academic.”
“We still have twelve hours to see what we can accomplish,” I say. “And longer, if we need it. The primary mission objective takes precedence over all other considerations, including the personal safety of the crew.”
“What? That’s absolute madness!”
“What about the captain?” Speer bleats. “We should be getting him to proper medical treatment.”
“Will twelve hours be critical?” I ask.
“Of course! Twelve minutes might be critical. I can’t really diagnose him accurately here....”
What would Andrei do if I was stretched out on the sick bay couch? Twelve hours. He’s in shock. If he’s lived through the first few minutes he ought to be okay. Speer can take care of him. Ship’s all mine now, my decision to make. Another twelve hours. All mine for another twelve hours. Maybe longer.
“We’ll stay,” I tell them. “Speer, let me know if he gets any worse. We’ll put out the whale sonar signal. If the sharks show up, we’ll try some long-range looks at them and then turn off the whale signal.”
“If they have any intelligence at all,” Bromley says, “the sonar camouflage won’t fool them. They’ll know we’re not a whale.”
“It fooled them once.”
“Did it?”
Hadn’t thought of that. Ignore it. “Okay. The computer will give each of you a priority list of measurements that must be made. Carry out as many as you can, starting at the top of the list. If and when we make contact with alien life forms, all instruments will be devoted to getting as much data on them as possible.”
Bromley mutters, “Another ruddy admiral handing down orders to his deck hands.”
But they’re getting to work. Keep them busy. Suppose the sharks are intelligent? Suppose they’re the ones who built the machines on Titan? What kind of weapon did they use on the ship? What else do they have?
LOG REQUIRES REPORT ON YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS ACTIVITY DURING YOUR SLEEP PERIOD.
Not now, I’m busy.
REVISED MISSION SCHEDULE INDICATES LACK OF FIRST PRIORITY OBJECTIVES AT PRESENT. SUBCONSCIOUS ACTIVITY REPORT CAN BE FILED NOW.
I didn’t really dream....
EYE MOVEMENT MONITOR AND EEC TAPE SHOW EVIDENCE OF SUBCONSCIOUS ACTIVITY DURING SLEEP PERIOD. MISSION OBJECTIVE FOURTEEN...
Okay, okay... but it wasn’t much of anything. It was kind of mixed up, weird. Part of it was the last time I saw Marlene.
I had been fitted out with the gills. They had us living in test tanks. The tanks connected with the lake and we could spend our free time there if we felt like it. I had been there for an hour or so, watching the dolphins they had stocked the lake with. To keep us company.
Marlene hadn’t told me she was coming to see me. She just showed up with a tank strapped to her back and her face covered by a goggled mask. But I recognized her immediately. Even with her hair pulled back I knew her the instant I saw her.
“They’ve taken all your hair off,” was the first thing she said, from inside the mask.
“More than you know,” I answered. I was wearing trunks.
We swam for a long time, hooked rides on the dolphins, talked about trivialities, hardly touched each other.
“I’ve got my assignment,” she said at last. “Sirius.”
“Same as your friend?”
“Yes.”
“Was it a tough job to wangle the same mission? Did you have to lay any of the administrators or personnel people?”
“Bob, don’t be...”
“Don’t be what?” I asked.
And somehow it was a different time and place. I was sitting in front of a desk while a fat civilian was telling me:
“Don’t be disappointed that you weren’t accepted for a s
tar mission. Only a handful of the very finest scientists and astronauts could be picked. There’s an even more challenging assignment waiting for you, if you’re willing to tackle it.”
I must have asked him what it was.
“Jupiter. Far more dangerous and hostile than any star mission. The most difficult challenge we have ever faced. And probably the most important. Certainly the most rigorous mission we’ve attempted so far.”
Note the we. He never got closer to Jupiter than the men’s room down the hall from his office.
But then the dream changed again. I was standing alone, watching while Marlene died. It was confused, mixed up. The noise was shattering. Flames and smoke, people shouting and pointing...
CAN YOU DESCRIBE THE SCENE MORE CLEARLY?
No, it’s all a jumble.
CONTINUE.
That’s all there is. End of dream. End of report.
Give me a sonar sweep, max range. Still nothing. Okay, systems check. Controls still heavy. Don’t like the way the stabilizer... hey, why are we nose-down?
SHIP’S ATTITUDE IS SET AT ONE POINT FIVE DEGREES DESCENT.
The hell it is. I want her straight and level. Maintain constant depth.
STABILIZER OVERRIDE REQUIRED.
Override it, then. Keep us straight and level. Check ship’s attitude every five minutes. If the stabilizer can’t keep us level, override it.
UNDERSTOOD.
“Speer, how’s the captain?”
Young as he is, Speer’s squinting nearsightedly at the sick bay instrument board. “His condition is about the same. Comatose. Blood pressure low but steady.”
“Will he make it?”
He shrugs elaborately. “If we were on Earth, or even on one of the orbiting ships...”
He’s looking for a bowl of water to wash away his responsibility.
“Are you still insisting on this madness?” Bromley’s whine. “We haven’t found any more animals. Give it up, and for God’s sake, let’s get out of here while we still can.”
Hull pressure report.
NO RISE IN PRESSURE SINCE LAST REPORT.
Minimum time to failure?
INSUFFICIENT DATA.
“All systems are within tolerable limits,” I say into the intercom. “We will continue the mission.”
Dr. Ling, sounding a little weaker than before, says, “I wish to go on record as requesting that we remain at least long enough to make another attempt at observing the native life forms. If possible, I would like to sample some tissue.”
Tough old bird; he’d probably go after Jovian whale hide with his teeth if he had to.
“Dr. Ludongo, do you wish to make any comment for the ship’s log?”
After a moment’s hesitation he answers, “I am concerned about the captain’s health and the ship’s safety. However, I realize the importance of our mission and wish to continue... unless the risks become too great.”
Hah! His father couldn’t have straddled the fence any better.
SONAR CONTACT.
Display it. Six blips. Too far out to tell what they are. Keep them in sight. Follow them. Display size estimates as soon as sufficient data is recorded.
OVERRIDING STABILIZER TO MAINTAIN LEVEL ATTITUDE.
Understood.
“We have six objects on sonar,” I tell them, punching the sonar display onto their screens.
“Are they whales or sharks?” Ludongo asks.
“Probably whales. They’re cruising peacefully. Too far off to sense us.”
Bromley says, “If they’re sharks and they attack us...”
“Computer is pre-set to turn off our whale signal if sonar return shows they’re sharks.”
Bromley doesn’t look happy at all; I can see him shudder.
AT PRESENT HEADING AND SPEED INTERCEPTION OF SONAR CONTACT WILL BE IN ONE HOUR TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES PLUS OR MINUS TEN PERCENT. MISSION PROFILE CALLS FOR CO-PILOT REST PERIOD AT THIS TIME.
Can’t rest. Captain’s in sick bay.
EMERGENCY PROCEDURE CALLS FOR COPILOT TO RECEIVE NUTRIENTS AND DISCONNECT FROM ACTIVE SHIP CONTROL WHILE MAINTAINING NEURAL CONNECTIONS WITH COMPUTER AND SENSORS.
Watching myself on the inside camera, I pull my hands and feet out of the control connectors. Now I reach between Andrei’s couch and mine for the nutrient tube and plug it into the socket on my left arm. Andrei’s is on his right arm. He used to joke that this was the way you could tell the captain from the co-pilot.
OVERRIDING STABILIZER.
I crank the couch back slightly and try to relax.
Sonar still shows six gray smudges. Guess I’m supposed to nap, but I don’t want to. Dream too much. Like the time just before we boosted to orbit, when I was swimming in the lake and saw Marlene. She’d been dead for more than a month, but there she was swimming toward me. My heart just stopped. Only it wasn’t her. When the girl got close enough I could see she didn’t look anything like her. I don’t want to dream about her now. Concentrate on the mission. Don’t sleep. Don’t dream.
OVERRIDING STABILIZER.
Must have dozed off after all. Computer turned off the sensor display.
Outside view. They’re whales all right. More than six... two smaller ones in sight. Youngsters? Can’t be sharks, they’re riding right alongside one of the big ones.
Maintain max magnification and display all data as it comes in. Also maintain max warning range for any other contacts. Interrupt all displays if another contact appears.
UNDERSTOOD.
Look in on the scientists. They’re resting now, letting the instruments pull in the data and record it. Ling’s watching the sonar display while lying down. Bromley and Ludongo are chatting about something over the intercom. Science stuff. Speer’s back in his own cubby, sleeping. Check on the captain. Still unconscious, looks like. Tap into the medical recorders. All displays fairly constant: heart rate, breathing, body temp. Holding his own, I guess.
NEW CONTACT.
Track it.
It’s more than one. A dozen objects, whistling along in close formation out at the edge of our sonar range. They’re on the far side of the whale pack. Probably they haven’t picked us up at all.
They’re sharks, no doubt about it. Can’t tell their sizes or shapes at this distance, but just watching them move, you can see they’re completely different from the whales. They’re hunters. Killers.
“Sonar contact. Twelve sharks,” I say on the intercom.
The scientists snap to life, stare at the sonar display.
“Observe max safety procedures,” I tell them. They’re already strapping in.
Range to whales?
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES TO INTERCEPTION.
Maintain constant distance from them. Follow them without getting any closer.
UNDERSTOOD.
So far the whales haven’t detected the sharks at all. They’re just lumbering along. The sharks are still out at the edge of our detection range. But now they’re splitting up into smaller groups... two or three each.
“My God, they’re going to surround the whales!” Bromley’s voice, awe-stricken.
“Rather intelligent behavior,” Ling says softly.
Ludongo, “Many predators on Earth are equally intelligent. The lion, for instance. And the wolf.”
Two of the sharks are circling around behind the whales, while the rest are deploying themselves ahead of the herd and along the flanks. The whales still haven’t noticed them.
Speer says, “They’re going to be butchered....”
TWO CONTACTS APPROACHING FORTY-FIVE-MINUTE RANGE.
“Shouldn’t you be turning off the whale signal?” Bromley says.
Ludongo says, “If we turn off the signal the real whales might sense us and bolt.”
“That could save their lives,” says Ling. “Surely many of them will be killed if they don’t begin to run soon.”
“Mission objectives clearly state we are not to interfere with local ecological patterns,” I remind them. “Howe
ver, ship safety requirements have the highest priority.”
OVERRIDING STABILIZER.
Understood. Will assume stabilizer override every five minutes until you report otherwise. No further need for override reports.
UNDERSTOOD.
Turn off the sonar signal. If the scientists could hold their breaths with the artificial gills, they’d be doing it now. Nothing. The whales don’t sense us. And the two closest sharks are paying no attention to us, either. They’re lining up; the other sharks are deployed in ambush.
There they go! Wide-angle view, follow them in. The whales finally sense them. Look at them buck! The whales are faster than the sharks... at least for short sprints. They’re going to bull right past the sharks and break free.
God Almighty! Lightning bolts! Electric blasts arcing from the sharks to the whales. Blank out eyes when they flash. They’re paralyzing the whales with electricity.
“Stop them! Kill them!” Bromley’s shouting. “Don’t let them do it! Use the laser on the sharks!”
The sharks are doing a thorough job. Electric bolts stun the whales, then they latch on with their snouts, like lamprey eels. Looks like they suck the juices from the whales instead of eating the meat. Most of the whales have two or three sharks attached to them now, drifting slowly, sinking.
One of the youngsters has managed to keep clear of them. Heading our way, emitting all sorts of high-pitched peeps. Three sharks closing in on him.
“Save him!” Bromley shrieks. “Don’t let them get him!”
“Our mission is to observe, not interfere.”
This time it happens no farther than ten kilometers from us. Infrared picks up good detail.
The little whale isn’t much bigger than this ship. He’s fast, but the sharks have an angle on him. Closing fast. Youngster’s screeching louder and louder. Or maybe it’s just the Doppler effect. There goes the lightning! Was that Bromley groaning? Eyes recovered now. Whale’s dead in the water. One shark already stuck into him, other two move in and hook on. It is obscene-looking.
Ludongo says, “Now we know how they attacked us. An electric arc... it makes an effective weapon.”