The Argonauts had never seen a planet before, and Jupiter was an impressive example to start with, even from the outskirts of its moon-system. They never tired of watching the swirling, coloured bands of cloud, the Great Red Spot and lesser storms vanishing around the limb and returning hours later. They still could have no real idea of the bronze giant's size, and never would. Even within the planet's atmosphere, the cloud formations so dwarf Man and his puny works that their scale cannot be grasped. Like its Olympian namesake, Jupiter is beyond human understanding.
The Earthborn Men were more interested in other things, and hardly glanced at the grand spectacle. They studied the readouts as Athena searched for objects of steel and titanium in the vast, complex system before them, displaying the mass, motion, temperature, and radiation profile of each.
"There are the remains of a ship," she said. "Highly radioactive. There are several colonies. Space-cold. Many of the outer colonies, according to the figures you have given me, are not there at all. Possibly they were nudged out of the Jovian system to escape infection or raiders."
"What about Callisto?" Davis asked. "Can you detect any signs of life from this distance?"
"Any enclaves of human habitation would be so far below the ice that they would be difficult to detect. There appears to be some infrared radiation leakage at Valhalla, but that doesn't mean life, necessarily. The city was powered by hydrothermal convection in the mantle, and many automated systems might still be functioning. As for Space-dock, it remains in orbit over Callisto, but appears to be... Just a moment."
"What is it?"
"Just a moment."
They waited. Soon Athena began to speak again.
"I have two items of interest. One of the hydrogen-mining colonies, just now appearing around the limb of Jupiter, is an infrared source. There is even a little radio leakage and some visible light. It has just emerged from perijove blackout and will be intersecting Callisto orbit at apojove in 70 hours. It is the most likely sign of life so far. Second, there is a tanker quite close by."
"A tanker? Where?" Davis was beside himself with excitement.
"It may have slipped its moorings and drifted into open orbit. I will calculate a rendezvous. Yes. You can swing the launch around Sinope for gravity-assist and mate in seven hours. If the tanker's engines still function, or can be repaired, you can nudge it into Callisto orbit in plenty of time to meet the colony on its apojove intercept near Space-dock. That will give you a possible fuel-source, a tanker to transport it to Aries, and facilities to repair the tanker, though I cannot guarantee that any of these things can be made to function."
"That's our job, Athena," Davis said. "You can transfer to Jovian orbit and continue to monitor the system, maintaining contact with us through the launch. Can you tell, at this distance, what kind of tanker we're talking about?"
"I can name it, if the data you have given me is correct. It can only be Zeus Cloud-Gatherer."
Davis let out a whistle and Sanchez laughed out loud. "Jackpot, Athena. That's the biggest super-tanker of our day."
"I understand this. But it may not be spaceworthy after all this time."
"It will be," Davis said, "if I have anything to say about it."
***
A sense of anticipation, even of foreboding, hung in the air as the supertanker drifted into view. The series of spherical tanks in their network of girders seemed to stretch forever. In the bow, the sphere was surrounded by antennae and towers, and there were even a few lighted viewports. In the stern was the driver section, comfortably far away from any inhabited sections, and normally visited only by robots, for this was a factory tanker, which processed raw atmospheric hydrogen into refined fusion fuel en route and burned the dregs of the process in its own drivers, producing dangerous radiation.
"Is it safe to board in the stern?" Davis asked. "I want to look at those drivers right away."
"Of course you do," said Sanchez, at the launch's controls. The little vessel had been re-fitted with acceleration couches and several instrument consoles; the crew no longer had to cling to cargo-netting.
Sanchez studied the readouts. "Looks like a century of drifting in space has pretty much cooled it down."
"Yes, it appears safe," Fedorova confirmed, checking her own instruments. "And, incidentally, it's full."
"What?"
"It's full. Do you want to know how many cubic meters?"
"No, Nadia. That's all right."
"How do you know it's full?" Hercules asked.
Sanchez grinned. "She knows by our velocity of approach. More mass, more gravitational pull. It's right here, on my instruments."
"But you can't see the pilot's console," said Atalanta, who was sitting next to Fedorova. "How did you know?"
Fedorova shrugged. "I don't know. Calculated. In my head."
"I would think," Jason said, "that a full tanker would be a valuable prize. Why wasn't it stolen?"
"We'll find out," Davis said. "If it's in good working order, it can be run by a handful of people. If not, it's useless."
Sanchez guided the launch into dock and connected the two ships with a barely audible clunk and hiss. Davis pulled a thin disk from the breast pocket of his ship-suit and handed it to Sanchez. She inserted it into the instrument panel.
"What's on the disk?" Jason asked.
"Hecate. Without cryogenics to run, she's got nothing to do. So, we brought her along."
Zeus Cloud-Gatherer came alive. Lights flashed on behind ports all along its length, and an external floodlight bathed its flank in a rosy glow. The face of Zeus appeared, eyes flashing, beard and hair writhing about his Olympian jaw, and the ship's name lit up in a semi-circle above the great god's head.
"Hecate?" Davis asked.
Her voice filled the cabin. "Acceptable levels of background radiation, Mr. Davis. The air is stale, but not harmful. Any human remains or other organic materials have long since decayed. I am diverting life-support to warm the air in the sections you will be entering, but it is still very cold. Shall I open the lock, Sir?"
"Yes."
The hatch irised open and the crew swung, shivering, through the lock. Illumination was fitful and the air indeed stale. They turned up the temperature of their ship-suits and drifted down the corridor toward the driver end. Hercules marvelled as the huge machines appeared behind a wall of thick quartz. With Fedorova's help, Hecate illuminated a panel and Davis studied the readouts.
"What do you say, Hecate? It looks to me like we can get these drivers online, but the processor's shot to hell."
"I concur, Mr. Davis. It appears to have been cannibalized for parts. And much of the bridge controls as well, though they can be more easily repaired."
"What does it mean?" Jason asked.
"It means we have a shipload of fuel, and we can get it to the Aries, but we can't burn it in her engines until we can get our hands on some key parts to the processor."
"Doesn't the Aries collect raw hydrogen from space?"
"It can replenish its tanks on interstellar hydrogen, yes, though it has to be going at about a tenth of the speed of light to do it. But it then has to process the fuel to burn it efficiently, and the processors no longer work. They produce some serious radiation, besides, which is all right in interstellar space, but way too dangerous for orbit-insertion. That whole collection system is useless to us now and we'll have to jettison it before we get underway. Plus, the launches and life-craft and other systems would still require processed fusion-fuel. Right now, we have to make our way to the bridge and see if we can use the verniers to nudge this thing back to Space-dock, where it probably came from."
They kicked off up the long shaft, past stalled elevators and open hatches, in and out of the light. Davis was in the lead, as he seemed to be completely at home. He rounded a turn and stopped short with the sudden grasp of a stanchion. Atalanta collided with his huge body.
"Nadia, check this out."
Fedorova took the lead and the others followed her into the corridor ahead, where a strange and grisly sight awaited them. At first, the Argonauts thought it was a human skeleton drifting there, but it was made of metal: barrel-chested, long necked, with an all but featureless triangular head like that of a praying mantis.
"It's a robot," Hercules whispered. "A real robot."
The Argonauts gathered, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, about the fabulous creature. They could not have been more fascinated by a unicorn or a rhinoceros.
"What happened to it?"
"It's been stripped," said Sanchez. "Like a limo on a Nueva York street."
Someone had removed one of its clawed arms and a number of parts that should have been inside its steel ribcage--even the Argonauts could see that from the gaps and trailing wires. They had seen broken and dismantled machinery before--a melancholy sight--but there was a certain mute horror about this, for the humanoid creature's twisted head, broken legs, and extended remaining arm suggested death in agony, as if someone had ripped out its steel and silicon viscera as it fought for its mechanical life. But when Fedorova, calmly feeling about the base of its neck, popped open its skull and peered inside, the Argonauts were startled and horrified.
"No information available here," she said, rooting about in its shattered brains. "Too traumatized. Even if we could juice it up, we'd get nothing but gibberish."
They went on around the corner and discovered another dozen robots in similar condition. In fact, they found scores of robots drifting mutely in the corridors the whole length of the ship. Some had been blasted and blackened by laser weapons, others beaten and dented with blunt objects, still more torn to pieces as if by wild animals.
"I guess it was open season on robots at the end," Davis said. "Maybe they were blamed for the plague."
"Human beings tend to think like that," said Fedorova. From her matter-of-fact tone and impassive face, the Argonauts had no idea how she felt about the massacre. Sad? Angry? Atalanta studied her intently.
The bridge, when they had finally found it and forced open the door, was untouched. Davis pried open a panel, and Fedorova twisted some wires together. Suddenly there were blue lights and a deep, subliminal hum in the background. Lights flickered on all over the room and on the towers and antennae visible through the great curving port.
"I'll bet you've never hot-wired a super-tanker before," Sanchez laughed. She strapped herself into the pilot's couch, studied the diagrams displayed in the air before her, and then her fingers darted over the keyboard. The stars outside began to slide by as the great ship yawed-to on jets of compressed gas.
"My estimate," said Hecate, "is that we will be able to link with Space-dock in forty-eight hours."
***
The Argonauts peered through the port at the vast Callistan icefields below, scintillating in the light of the distant sun. Jupiter hung as a striped crescent over the horizon. Davis had assured them the tiny hexagons and rectangles on the surface below represented entire spaceports, serving cities carved into the ice beneath.
Space-dock drifted toward them across the face of Callisto. Great ragged holes appeared in the superstructure, whole sections were blackened, and the remains of a ship were welded into the twisted dock by a great explosion.
"There was a hell of a battle fought for this place," said Sanchez. "I wonder what was going on in the warrens below."
"Hecate?" said Davis.
"I'm here, Sir."
"Can you detect any power or any sign of life in Space-dock?"
"There is some power in certain sections, and I believe it can be restored to others, but there is no sign of life at this distance. I'll know more when the tanker's sensors are connected to the dock."
They watched with awe as Sanchez nudged the huge ship into Space-dock's waiting arms. They could not help but cringe as they saw the twisted superstructure swinging toward them like a great rattrap, but there was a burst of gas and a cancelling of momentum, and the final mating was the merest kiss of steel on steel.
"Hecate?"
"This section is still functioning. The lights are dim, but the hatches are tight and there is breathable atmosphere. Beyond, there is nothing. I'm afraid the refinery is in bad shape. You will have to use EVA to reach it and I doubt you will be able to use much of the equipment. There is no sign of life anywhere in the structure."
Davis glanced at his ring. "In thirty-two hours, the mining colony will be here. Maybe we can find what we need then. Meanwhile, we should explore what we can of this place, in case we run across something useful." He kicked off toward the lock and the others followed.
The hatch irised open as they approached, and dim corridors beckoned. Trash drifted forlornly about them as they swung through and followed the curve of the wall. This had been a reception area of some considerable class once, the bulkheads covered in plush carpet, a few indirect-lighting fixtures still glowing, large picture-ports affording a view of the Zeus outside.
Sanchez glanced through one of the ports and let out a whoop. "Something useful, you want?" she said. "Look at that?"
The port revealed the interior of a personal-craft hangar. In the distance, the space-doors were open and both Callisto and Jupiter could be seen. But close by was a small ship, attached to a lock like a fertilized egg to a uterine wall.
"That's a Galilean Security cruiser," she said. "Fully armed. And it's a beauty too." She darted off and swung into a corridor.
"Watch out for booby-traps, dammit!" Davis called after her and kicked off in pursuit. In a moment, the entire party had joined her beside the hatch.
"Hecate?"
"The craft is powered and fuelled. The interior is dark, however, for most of the lights have burned out. There is breathable atmosphere, but infrared tells me there is nothing alive, and I can detect no booby-traps. There are plenty of explosives, but they are all in the weapons systems, and the only charges connected to the lock are the usual explosive bolts. It seems safe to enter."
Sanchez tapped a sensor and the hatch irised open. She darted inside as the other hatch opened and the light from the corridor poured into the ship's dark interior.
"Look out! He's armed!" With incredible speed and free-fall efficiency of movement, Fedorova swung inside and thrust Sanchez away. There was a glimpse of a bulky human figure strapped in an acceleration couch, holding a pistol of some sort in his right hand. But there was no movement and no sound, and in a moment, Davis peered around the edge of the opening. "Dead," he laughed. "They're both dead." Then his face fell at the melancholy sight.
The explorers entered and found two human skeletons, wearing armed and armoured spacesuits and strapped into the pilot's and co-pilot's couches. One was male and one was female, judging by their size and the difference in build apparent even in the bulky suits. The female was wearing a respirator and there was an empty intravenous bottle beside her, the tube running into the arm of the suit. The male had a laser-weapon in his right hand and a neat hole through his fleshless skull.
"They were ready to escape, or go into battle," Davis said. "But she died, and he killed himself. I don't know why their bodies were left alone, unless there was no one left who wanted their ship or their weapons."
"I would have taken off first," said Sanchez, crossing herself, "set for solar-escape or Jovian entry, and opened it up. Then I would have burned my brains out."
"I would have left a message," said Fedorova as she kicked off toward the control panel, "assuming I was capable of suicide in the first place. This switch is open. Hecate, can you power this up?"
A man's face appeared on the screen. He was bearded, haggard, exhausted, and dirty. He spoke slowly, as if thinking of the next word was an effort almost beyond his strength. "I don't know if anyone will ever hear this. I can't be sure if there are pockets of human beings anywhere, or if we've left the system entirely to the robots. Everyone is trying to get out of the Galilean and they're fighting over ships and fuel. I think we're among the last to leave. We found Space-dock already ransacked, managed to repair our weapons systems, found some fuel in a dead man’s hoard, and buried him in payment.
"I’m not sure where we intended to go, but I guess we expected to fight for it when we got there, or we wouldn’t have stolen a police cruiser in the first place. It’s academic now. It seems you can pick up the plague from dead bodies, or the air, or it can remain dormant for a long time, because it’s been months since we saw another human being. In any event, we’ve both got it now. My wife is already dead and I’m dying as I speak.
"So, here’s my message, whoever you may be. My name is Dar, and my beloved is Rani. The ship is now the Cheshire Cat--we expected to vanish with a smile, you see--and it’s yours if you will bury us together. I don’t care if you cremate us, or bury us in space, or drop us into Jupiter--if that was important, I would have done it myself--just bury us together and remember our names. That’s the important part. Remember that we were together when you found us." The screen went blank.
***
Atalanta found Davis and Sanchez in Space-dock's observation lounge. They were watching the icy landscape of Callisto revolve overhead, while they passed a squeeze-bottle back and forth between them and listened to music. Davis offered the bottle to Atalanta, who sniffed and made a face.
"What's that?"
"I believe it's 200-year-old Scotch," said Davis in a slurred voice.
"No. Thank you." Atalanta listened to the music until a profound feeling of wretchedness overcame her. Finally, she said, "What music is this?"
"Hecate?" Davis said.
"Adagio for Strings and Organ, by Tomasso Albinoni."
"It's the saddest thing I’ve ever heard in my life."
Sanchez shook her head. "You should have heard the last one."
"That was Adagio for Strings, by Samuel Barber," Hecate added. "The next selection will be Pavane pour une infante défunte."
Davis held up the bottle. "To all the defunct infants," he said. "We went out to explore new worlds and all we brought back was a more efficient way to kill babies. This is a major theme of human civilization. Here's to our own patented Tau Ceti death-flu and the bloody, goddamn human race--present company excepted, of course."
"Don't except present company," Sanchez cautioned. "Because that's about all there is left."
"This is true. Here's to Dar and Rani, whom we remember today." For a moment, his powerful features seemed about to collapse in tears. He passed the bottle to Sanchez, who took a swig and belched thunderously. Davis roared with laughter.
"How about burial in space?" Sanchez said. "I like the ceremony: From interstellar dust we arose, to interstellar dust we shall return."
"Fucking A-men," said Davis. "But I'm partial to being dropped into Jupiter myself. It turns you into a tiny slice of fried baloney."
Sanchez seemed to think this was hilarious. Atalanta was appalled and slipped shuddering from the room. On her way to bed, she passed the computer room, where Fedorova sat working by herself, her delicate body bent over the keyboard, slim fingers clicking away with amazing speed.
Atalanta hesitated. She slipped into the room and closed the hatch behind her. As she drifted toward the station, Fedorova turned toward her. She seemed to know of Atalanta's approach without seeing her and what she wanted without speaking. They kissed passionately and stripped off their ship-suits. Atalanta was amazed at the passion hidden beneath the beauty's icy exterior.