Jupiter (21 page)

With growing enthusiasm, Muzorawa said, 'This is very interesting, Grant. Extremely interesting. I'll have to check the records as far back as we can go… all the way back to the
Galileo
probe, if necessary.'

'I'll check the records,' Grant said. 'You have enough to do over the next few weeks.'

With a reluctant nod, Muzorawa agreed. Then he asked, 'Have you seen any tidal effect in the Red Spot?'

Grant was surprised by the question. 'You're not planning to go into the Spot, are you?'

'God forbid!' Muzorawa raised both hands. 'I only wondered if the Spot changes in any predictable way.'

'There's just not enough data from inside the Spot,' Grant said. I've got a scattering of data from more than five years ago, but even then the probes didn't last long enough to send back much.'

'They stopped sending probes into the spot when Wo took over the station,' Muzorawa explained. 'He said it was a waste of time and effort.'

'He's right. That's an awfully powerful cyclone down there.'

'Yes, that's true enough. Still…'

'You're not going near the Spot, are you?' Grant asked again, staring at the view of the giant planet.

'No, of course not. We'll be on the opposite side of the planet.'

'How deep do you plan to go?'

'Deep enough to find whatever those things are that we saw swimming on the first mission.'

'Do you really think they're alive?' Grant asked.

Muzorawa turned from the wallscreen to look at Grant. 'How high is up?' he asked.

Grant understood. Don't ask useless questions. The first mission had detected objects in the ocean. This new mission would try to determine what those objects might be. Until they got more data, questions about the nature of the objects could not be answered.

But then Muzorawa nodded, ever so slightly. Barely a dip of his chin. 'I believe they are alive, yes. But that is only a belief, a matter of faith - or perhaps it would be better to say, a matter of hope. Until we obtain hard evidence, that is all we have to go on: our individual faith, our hopes, our fears.'

'Fears?'

'Oh, yes. Fears.' Muzorawa pointed to the big wallscreen. 'There are many people who fear what we might discover underneath those clouds.'

Grant blinked with surprise. 'Who? Nobody here on the station, is there?'

'Probably not,' Muzorawa replied. 'Wo has screened all the personnel here rather thoroughly.' He hesitated, thinking over his next words, then said, 'He was afraid of you, at first, you know.'

'
He
was afraid of
me
?'

Smiling, 'Certainly. He feared .you were an agent from the Zealots, come to spy on his work.'

'The Zealots?'

'The ultra-conservatives. They are always among us, those who fear new knowledge. Nearly a thousand years ago they destroyed a great Persian astronomer and mathematician: Omar Khayyam.'

'Omar… I thought he was a poet.'

Muzorawa shook his head slowly. 'His quatrains were a hobby. He was a scientist. He understood that the Earth goes around the Sun three centuries before Copernicus. For that, the mullahs destroyed him. To this day no one knows where he lies buried.'

'Ultra-conservatives,' Grant muttered. 'Zealots.' 'In my part of the world they call themselves the Sword of Islam. You have them among your New Morality, don't you?'

'But I'm not one of
them
!'

'Dr Wo wasn't sure of you. That was why he gave us orders to keep sensitive information from you.'

'But why would the New Morality, or the Zealots, or whatever, want to spy on him?' Grant hated himself for saying it, for lying to his friend and mentor. But I'm not a Zealot, he told himself. I'm not working for fanatics. I'm not!

Muzorawa gripped Grant by the shoulder. 'My friend, there are powerful forces among the Zealots that fear new knowledge. They do not appreciate our studies of extraterrestrial life-forms.'

'I know some of the more conservative Believers are uncomfortable with the idea of alien life,' Grant admitted. 'But—'

'If they are uncomfortable with alien bacteria and lichen,' Muzorawa interrupted, 'how do you think they feel about meeting
intelligent
aliens?'

'Intelligent?'

'The possibility exists.'

Grant's inside felt suddenly hollow. 'Intelligent creatures? You mean, here, on Jupiter?'

'The possibility exists,' Muzorawa repeated.

'But there's no evidence…'

'You haven't seen any evidence. Dr Wo still does not trust you as fully as that.'

'The things you saw in the ocean?'

'He believes,' Muzorawa said.

'Intelligent?'

'There isn't enough data even to confirm that they are living organisms. But the director believes they may be not only living, but intelligent.'

Understanding flooded into Grant's mind. 'That's why he brought in the dolphins. And Sheena!'

'To study non-human intelligence. Yes. To help us in the effort to communicate with the Jovians.'

'All this… based on his
belief
? On his hunch? His guess?'

'Belief is a very powerful force, my friend. More powerful than you can imagine. Copernicus believed the Earth revolves around the Sun. Maxwell believed light was a form of electromagnetic radiation, based on nothing more than the coincidence of numbers in his equations.'

'And the Zealots believe that God created us in His image. Extraterrestrial life threatens that belief

'And
intelligent
extraterrestrial life demolishes it.'

Grant countered, 'But we've known about the Martians for decades now.'

'They are extinct,' Muzorawa said. 'And they can be explained away by the faithful.'

With a nod Grant conceded the point. His own father firmly believed that the long-vanished Martians had actually come to Earth, and that Mars had been the original Garden of Eden. All the archeological evidence showed that such an idea was nonsense, it was impossible, but that is what the faithful believed. What they wanted to believe, Grant knew.

'Intelligent extraterrestrial life,' Muzorawa went on,'that in no 't'tvay looks like us, is a frightening idea for many people, in many religions.'

'God created man in His image,' Grant muttered.

'If we find intelligent life that does not resemble us…'

'It disproves Scripture,' Grant concluded.

'That is why the conservatives everywhere have opposed space exploration. That is why they opposed using telescopes to search for signals from extraterrestrial civilizations.'

'And Wo thought I might be one of them, just because I'm faithful to my religion.'

'I think he trusts you now.'

Grant nodded uncertainly. 'Maybe.'

'He has taken you under his wing, hasn't he? He's working with you on your thesis.'

Grant nodded again, but he thought, A man like Wo is smart enough, devious enough, to keep me under his wing so that he can keep a close watch on me. Maybe he knows about Beech. Maybe he knows I'm supposed to be spying on him.

Beech. Grant saw in his mind's eye the solemn, intense, tawny-eyed face of Ellis Beech. Him, a fanatic? Grant wondered. It couldn't be. Ellis Beech was just a functionary, a bureaucrat, a man who sat behind a desk all day and shuffled papers. He couldn't be a Zealot. He just couldn't be!

Precisely at that moment, the overhead speaker of the station's intercom system blared, 'GRANT ARCHER, REPORT TO THE DIRECTOR'S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.'

Startled, Grant thought, By the Living God, the man can read my mind!

If Dr Wo really could see what Grant was thinking, he gave no sign of it. His perpetual scowl seemed a bit less fierce than usual as he gruffly waved Grant to the chair in front of his desk. As always, the desk was bare, except for the vase of flowers -thickly lush peonies, this time — the only touch of color in the starkly functional office. Despite the almost stifling warmth of the room, Wo's high-collared tunic was buttoned up to his throat, as usual.

'Dr Muzorawa has told you that the mission is scheduled for launch in thirty days.' It was a statement, not a question.

'Yes, sir,' Grant replied, thinking, He must have every lab and compartment in the station bugged.

'I have been reviewing your work on the ocean dynamics,' Wo said in his harsh, labored whisper. 'Tidal variations. Very interesting. That bears further study.'

'Yessir, I agree.'

'And how is Sheena reacting to the idea of wearing the neural headgear?'

Grant had worn the spiderweb of electrodes draped over his own head the previous night, to get Sheena accustomed to the idea of the net. The gorilla might have been amused; she was unable to laugh, of course, but she referred several times to 'Grant hat.'

'I think she'll be okay with it, in a week or so. She's not spooked by the console any longer. It just takes her a little time to get comfortable with new things — especially things that have the smell of a laboratory about them.'

Wo drummed his stubby fingers on the desk. 'She has a long memory.'

'She doesn't forget something that frightened her, or gave her pain.'

'The neural net will not hurt her in any way.'

'But it could frighten her, unless she sees it as a toy or a game.'

'Yes,' Wo conceded. 'Very clever.'

'It doesn't take much to outsmart a two-year-old,' Grant heard himself say, with some bitterness. 'Only time and patience.'

Wo gave him a sardonic smile. 'I am pleased that you are learning patience.'

'Sheena's a good teacher, in that regard.' The director's thin smile widened. 'You are becoming almost Confucian in your growing wisdom, Mr Grant.'

Not knowing what else to say, Grant replied, 'Thank you, sir.'

'I am afraid, however, that I have still another duty to place upon your shoulders.'

'Another?'

'I have appointed you to join the deep mission team. You will report to the mission control center tomorrow for intensive training. You must be capable of assisting the mission controllers by the time the mission is launched.'

'Intensive training?' Grant echoed. 'But… when? How can I… there aren't enough hours in the day for everything that's on my plate.'

Curtly, Wo replied, 'Then I shall remove some items from your plate. Your duties in the fluid dynamics lab will be suspended until the mission is completed.'

'But my thesis!'

'It can wait for a few weeks.'

'The ocean mapping… you'll need that for the mission.' 'The mapping is sufficiently detailed for the purposes of the mission. Further refinement is not necessary.'

Shaking his head vehemently, Grant argued, 'How can you say that? How can you tell how much information is enough? The more data I generate—'

Wo cut him short with an angry slash of one hand. 'It is
my
responsibility to say how much is enough.'

'You're making an arbitrary decision.'

'Yes. Of course I am.' Wo looked away from Grant for a moment, as if trying to control his anger, then said in a more reasonable tone, 'As a scientist, I agree with you. Wholeheartedly. The more data the better. Keep probing, keep learning.'

'So then-'

'But I am not merely a scooter. I am director of this station and chief of this deep mission. I must make hard decisions. I must decide how to use the personnel I have at my disposal and I have decided that the best use for you is to assist in the control center during the mission.'

'There are several dozen technicians on this station who can do that job, and do it better than I could.'

'Perhaps,' Wo conceded, 'but I do not choose to bring additional personnel into this mission.'

'Why not? Wouldn't it be smarter to—'

'Enough!' Wo snapped. 'I have made my decision and you will carry out my orders. End of discussion.'

Grant fell silent for a moment. The two of them glared at each other across the director's gleaming desk.

'This is a security matter, isn't it?' Grant asked, in a much softer voice. 'You don't want to bring additional people into the mission for fear of a security leak.'

Wo did not reply for several heartbeats. Grant felt perspiration trickling down his ribs. Why does he keep this office so hellishly hot? Grant wondered silently.

At last Wo said, 'Dr Muzorawa has told you about the Zealots.'

Grant conceded it with a nod. Lord Almighty, he really does listen in on all our conversations.

'I fear them,' Wo said, so low that Grant barely heard the words.

'But surely, here on this station, we're millions of kilometers away from them.'

'Are we? Who among those dozens of technicians you spoke of might be a Zealot? Who among the scooters working on Europa or studying Io?'

'Not a scientist,' Grant protested.

'Why not? You are a Believer, are you not?'

'Yes, but I'm not a fanatic.'

Wo's eyes bored into Grant's, as if trying to pierce to his soul. 'No,' he said at last, 'I trust that you are not.'

It was that word
trust
that hit Grant. He heard himself say, 'When I was assigned to come to this station, the New Morality asked me to report back to them on what you are doing.'

Wo said nothing, his expression did not alter one millimeter.

'They asked me to spy on you,' Grant admitted.

'And have you?'

'I haven't told them a thing. I haven't learned anything that they didn't already know. But if you're going to make me a part of this deep mission…'

Dr Wo closed his eyes and nodded. 'I see. Your loyalties are divided.'

'No they're not,' Grant snapped. 'I'm a Believer, and I'm a scientist, also. But my loyalties are clear. I'm not a spy, and whatever the New Morality people back on Earth want to know has nothing to do with faith in God. What they've asked me to do is politics, not religion.'

Again Wo lapsed into silence. Grant waited for several moments, then said, 'You can trust me, sir. I'm not a spy. I never wanted to spy on you. They never gave me a choice.'

'I want to trust you, Archer. There are very few people aboard this station whom I can trust. That is why my team for the deep mission is so pitifully small.'