Farthest Reef (11 page)

Almost immediately, something outside the window caught Alex’s eye. Whatever it was, it was some distance away, barely illuminated by
Diver’s
lights. “Check that out,” said Alex, pointing to the window.

Tsu saw it too, a ghostly white undulating form. Then she looked at her radar screen. “It’s on a tangential course,” she said. “Looks large. But …”

Alex slowed the ship and dimmed the lights. He thought of the music now playing both inside and out, Nium Spruance’s live performance of
Ode to Joy
3000 with the Martian Clavichrome Ensemble. “Do you see it, Professor?” he asked, still pointing. “Dead ahead.”

Johnny disappeared into his bubble again. “Don’t change anything, Alex.” A moment later he added, “It’s there, all right.”

“It’s nothin’ on radar, though,” muttered Sciarra, “Just fuzz.”

Mary squinted into the darkness. As Alex guessed, her keen eyes identified it. “It’s an air-worm. Looks like it’s crossing our path … not coming toward us.”

As they neared the beast,
Diver’s
lights began to show the undulating behemoth more clearly. “We ran into one before,” Alex added. “In fact, we blew right through it. Remember?”

“I remember,” said Tony. “Never saw one from the side, before. And not this shallow. On the scanners it’s a giant tube of gas with the collective mass of, maybe, a watermelon.”

No doubt Tony remembered many other details of the former mission more clearly. True, Alex and Mary had their scary moments, but they hadn’t experienced anything as horrible as Tony had. At one point, while preparing for an EVA, he’d been accidentally blown out of a hatch. His body had ended up lodged in a dark chamber deep inside the reef, a hole that turned out to be a nest of hatching eggs. No one knew if the colorless wormlike hatchlings saw Tony as their first meal. He was rescued before they found that out. Alex remembered doubting if they’d ever see Tony again. But
Diver’s
sheer weight, combined with its null-gee field, was able to burrow deep enough to recover him.

Of all of
Diver’s
crew, Sciarra’s experience with the reef was by far the most harrowing. It amazed Alex to see him so relaxed. If the experience had changed him, there had been no sign of it. He was still the same Tony he’d always been; amused, interested, and understated.

Tony noticed Alex looking at him. “I’m okay.”

“About what?” asked Alex.

“You’re wondering if I’m freaked, right?”

Alex smiled, surprised by Tony’s frankness. “You brought it up …”

“The … incident was my fault. But you saved me,” said Tony. “Thanks. End of story.” He shrugged and pushed his glasses higher up on his face to see Alex better. “No reason to question a gift, eh? As to our mission, well, the Psychs already asked me all the important questions.”

“What did you tell ’em?”

“I’m fine as long as I don’t go divin’ again.” Tony chuckled.

“I figured,” said Alex, “but if I’d been ejected into the reef and nearly eaten by worms, this place would give me the creeps.”

“Is this a test?” asked Tony with a grin. “I wanted to be here, Alex. More than anything.”

“I was glad to see your name on the roster, Tony,” said Alex. “Enough said.”

Diver
pushed on against the current, its dim lights probing the darkness. The great tube-thing tracked them for a while, perhaps drawn to the lights or the music, but eventually moved off like a great pulsing jellyfish into the gloom.

Johnny said he was pleased to see a giant worm intact, perhaps referring to their violent encounter with one on the second mission. “Indeed,” said Tony. “And I’m pleased it didn’t want to try us for brunch like the last one did.”

“Indeed,” said the Professor.

Ode to Joy
had serenaded the reef for twenty minutes, but it seemed to produce no activity in the reef other than small clusters of tiny fly-like creatures who occasionally swarmed near the perimeter of the null-gee field, but never closer. If visible, the field would be an ovoid cloud that enrobed
Diver
to a distance of ten meters. On previous missions the field from the ship had extended as far as fifty meters. Its new null-gee system provided a tighter field projection, and the more gravity they were willing to endure translated into an even smaller field around the ship. Johnny had determined early in the mission that he wanted to minimize their gravity spike for the sake of attracting clicker men.

“The radar is showing an entrance … a clicker man tunnel,” announced Professor Baltadonis. “Just ahead, maybe a dozen meters or so.”

Alex saw it on the screen, a cleft in the wall some distance ahead. But he needed to stretch before starting another leg of the journey. He asked Tsu if she wanted to take the helm. She nodded happily and took the stick. “I’m turning the helm over to Tsu for a while, Professor,” he announced.

The ship dipped slightly as Connie tested
Diver’s
thrusters and then smiled. “I was going nuts just sitting there.”

Alex felt his weight as he got up. Weeks in varying gravity were taking their toll on his joints. He groaned as he bent his back into shape. “I recommend geebrews all around.”

“That’s what we need, Alex,” said Johnny, his voice dripping scorn. “A drunken crew!”

“Glad you see it my way,” said Alex, winking at Mary, but she had a finger to her temple and was engaged in a quiet dialogue.

“What is it, Mary?” Alex asked, unsure if she could hear him or not.

He was about to repeat himself when Mary looked up. “
Goddard
,” she said. “Looking for results. A progress report, they call it.”

From Mary’s expression, Alex could tell the Professor had commandeered the transmission. “Do you want me tuned out?” she asked in a loud voice. Inky jumped off her lap and wobbled toward his dish. Alex smiled as he watched the supple creature try to deal with the changing gee forces.

“No need,” Johnny shouted from his booth.

Alex watched Mary’s expressions change as she listened. When the transmission her forehead was wrinkled with concern. “Oh, great,” Alex mumbled. “More good news.”

Professor Baltadonis elevated the cowl covering his station. His face was flushed and angry as he watched it raise to the ceiling. He stood up and looked at Tsu. “Take her into the cave,” he said sternly, adding, “Geebrews it is, Alex.”

“I was really only going for a cuppa joe, Professor,” said Alex. “What’s up?”

“They want us back in six hours,” said Johnny.

“Clicker man or not?”

“With a clicker man, of course,” Tsu reprimanded Alex. “You know Corpies better than that.”

3
The tunnel was well over twenty meters wide and roughly oval in shape. It was a clicker man tunnel, all right. Alex immediately recognized the glistening tube with its regularly spaced seams. Tsu had expertly guided the ship into it but had switched to computer guidance to avoid damaging the reef.

The computer allowed them to be physically non-invasive, but
Diver’s
lights were still blazing and the music continued to fill the steamy air inside the tunnel. At Johnny’s insistence, Alex had set
Ode to Joy
to play in a continuous loop. Alex thought once was enough. He never imagined he’d get sick of hearing that particular piece of music, but with the background chatter, it was wearing on his nerves. Apparently everyone felt the same way. Johnny cut the music from the cabin speakers.

But the Professor had other motives for wanting the music off. “Mary,” he began. “Have you made progress concocting a message?”

To Alex’s surprise Mary smiled confidently. “Yes, Professor. There’s a sound I remember from earlier missions … after we had passed through populated areas, always far away, of course. It’s listed by your experts as an unknown call, but I think it means, ‘all clear’ or ‘it’s safe to come out’ … something like that.”

“Sound like an invitation to me,” remarked Sciarra.

“If there’s a message we should send, I guess that’s it,” added the Professor. “Fine work, Mary. Give it a try.”

It took less than a second for Mary Seventeen to concoct the message. As it was broadcast to the reef, they all listened to it on the cabin speakers, a low mournful rattle that trailed off into several sharp clicks.

“Like birds,” observed Johnny.

Everyone nodded except Tsu who was sitting stiffly in her chair, staring at the forward windows. “Relax, Connie,” Alex said. “The ship’s computers can take us out of the reef, on demand, at any time. If we tell
Diver
to, it can take us to the clicks, I bet. But if we did that, you and I wouldn’t have a job, would we?”

Alex’s quips didn’t relax Tsu. “We have no clue where we’re going, do we?” she asked, frowning.

He shook his head. “Is that news to you?”

Something had flickered briefly in
Diver’s
headlights. From the look in Tsu’s eyes Alex knew she’d seen something. But when he looked it was gone.

“Did you see something, Tsu?” he asked.

“I think it was a clicker man,” Connie said.

The ship was cruising at about five kilometers per hour in the exact middle of a yellowish slick tube. Here and there along the subtle mottling of its surface a tuft of dull floss evidenced the invasion of the material. Alex wondered if the tube was abandoned, because it looked unused. “Are you seeing anything out there … anybody?”

“The airflow has changed, Alex,” said Johnny. “The ship’s being helped by a slight tailwind. Also there’s plenty of water out there. 18% water vapor, 21% nitrogen, 12% oxygen … a lot of carbon dioxide. Some ammonia, but only a trace. Surprising.”

“Anything moving besides the air, Professor?” asked Tsu.

“Where?”

“Nearby … close to us.”

“How close do you mean?”

“Outside the window.” Connie’s voice was tinged with frustration.

“The radar doesn’t see that close,” said Tony. “Maybe the cameras caught something.”

“Checking the recordings,” said Johnny.

Diver’s
lights steadily illuminated the long passageway, but nothing was visible. Meanwhile the viewscreen above the windows continued to show a cobweb of radar tracing that reminded Alex of microscopic views of bone, a vast latticework of interconnecting fibers penetrated by the arterial roadways of the clicker men.

Johnny announced he’d found something and put it on the viewscreen. “This is from the upper portside camera,” he noted.

It happened quickly, a blur of red and black moving downward, left to right. Fuzzy or not, the image jogged everyone’s memory.

“Clicker man,” said Mary. “A drone, I’ll bet.”

“Cut the forward motion a bit, Tsu,” ordered Johnny. “Alex … maybe it’s time for you to try out my chair.” He lifted the bubble and stepped out, then pointed to the curved panel that orbited his chair. “That arm brings down the bubble. I’ve got everything set. The snatcher’s control sleeve is tucked under the panel. It pulls out. Stick your hand inside and the arm is immediately activated. The viewer on the dash will come on automatically, and so will the outside cameras and lights.” Johnny surveyed the console. “Please don’t change any settings.”

“How do I get a panoramic view … around the arm?” asked Alex.

“For that you need the bubble,” said Johnny. He explained how the bubble worked and set the cameras.

Alex was a quick study, especially where piloting was involved. He smiled at the Professor. “Not to worry, Johnny.” he said confidently. “Bring on the clicks.”

Johnny gave a silent salute and pushed the bar in front of Alex’s knees, lowering the bubble into place.

4
The snatcher was a fairly simple mechanism. Viewed from outside, it was a bulge in
Diver’s
belly with an oval porthole at the rear containing a swiveling and telescoping nozzle connected to a specimen chamber. Though Alex hadn’t seen the inside, he knew from diagrams that it was about a meter wide and equipped with a complex gas mixer and a nutrient atomizer. His recorded briefings had explained the unit and the steps necessary to ensure the snatcher’s effectiveness. First they had to determine the metabolic nature of their specimen and its environment, meaning the ship had to stay where the click was taken until such determinations were completed by the ship’s sensors. At the same time,
Diver’s
compressors would collect and compress air from the reef – enough at least to sustain the creature while it was returned to
Goddard
. “Remember,” Stubbs had said at the pre-flight briefing, “Fail these protocols and the mission’s pointless. We need to catch clicks, but we need their environment, too. Don’t leave without it.”

Inside the unfamiliar confines of the virtual bubble, Alex thought about Stubbs’ words as he placed his arm inside the snatcher’s glove. Responding to the action, lights and cameras near the pod on
Diver’s
belly came to life. At the same time Johnny’s virtual bubble displayed the scene, a view looking down.

In the pool of light directly beneath them the tunnel wall was a smooth orange-gray material mottled with brown and greenish stains. Alex watched as details on the tunnel floor moved in and out of view. Judging from the holographic image it was no more than five meters away. When he pushed forward on the gloved armature, a rounded cylinder emerged rudely into view at the bottom of the image and the computer automatically activated the snatcher’s targeting system, adding a pale green bell-shaped grid to the view.

Alex withdrew his hand from the glove and the snatcher arm retracted slowly. “Dingers,” he snapped. “That’s a sore thumb sticking out down there.”

“From outside, we must look like a fish with an erection,” he heard Tony say.

“Is there a problem?” Coming from outside the bubble, the Professor’s voice sounded far away.

“Is the arm supposed to poke out like that?” Alex asked in a loud voice.

“What did you expect?”

Alex switched on the cabin intercom. “There,” he said, “we don’t have to shout.”

“See anything out there, Alex?” Mary asked.

“No. Do you hear anything?” Alex answered as he turned the cameras to face forward, happy to find that they moved quickly. He shifted the view from forward to back, then to forward again, testing it. “Wait a minute.” He snapped to the rear view again. “Clicks behind us!”