Chapter Two

1.

“SAINTS PRESERVE US.”

Tally’s entreaty lacked the usual twang of accent as the words whispered softly out of his mouth. Nathaniel spared him a glance. Although his attention was rather more taken with that which had caused the other man’s appeal, something about the way Tally spoke called to him. This was hardly the time for amusement, but nevertheless Nathaniel experienced a twinge of glee upon hearing what sounded very like a prayer. Of course, Tally had been making many such heavenly petitions since yesterday when he’d come to realise just how big Jupiter was.

No-one noticed Nathaniel’s glance at Tally. He doubted any had heard him. None took their gaze from the viewing port. All were as awestruck by Jupiter as the Irishman.

Nathaniel had read references to King of the Planets and Destroyer of Comets. Hard not to feel humble upon realising that the gas giant lived up to its reputation. Easy to understand those not strictly required, and even risking discipline from the ship’s captain, stealing a look through any porthole within reach.

“Man your stations,” the captain ordered over the recently installed telephonic pipe, no doubt aware of the same. Despite the stern tone of his command… Well, maybe Nathaniel was a little mistaken, but he was sure he could hear a touch of empathy. Only the strongest of countenances could avoid the temptation to witness such a sight.

Massive. So vast that the closer they drew to it, the more it blanked out their view of the aether itself.

Striations of dark and light captured Nathaniel’s attention. These white-blue atmospheric bands were, as Miss Wollf had told him, termed zones and were a sign of what she referred to as upwelling—a rising movement of some type of liquid. Downward movement she had called downwelling, but despite his interest Nathaniel was less concerned with the official terms for the interspersing brown belts of fluid than what Jupiter’s upper atmosphere concealed. To the lower right a black “beauty spot” could be seen, which Nathaniel knew to be one of the known moons of Jupiter: Europa. Further along the same path to the right, a swirling reddish turbulence spinning counter-clockwise drew his gaze.

“What in the seven levels of hell is that?” Tally actually scratched his head as though in puzzlement.

“We believe it to be a hurricane.” Captain Theobald sounded unmoved by the awe-inspiring sight, attention riveted to the instruments.

“Hurricane?” Tally gaped. “Corks. Sure and I’ve never seen a storm that size.”

“And are unlikely to again. It could contain the Earth.” The idea was almost humbling. Nathaniel dismissed the emotion. The mission had somehow overtaken a portion of his more natural curiosity. Landing would be…difficult. Once they reached the right trajectory and the captain prepared for descent, all of their interest would be consumed with self-preservation. Tally seemed to read his mind.

“This is going to be a tricky son of a… I mean, presents a problem, don’t it?”

“That’s a mild deduction.” Nathaniel caught both Theobald and Bedford’s disapproving looks, and directed Tally off the bridge by a tug of his sleeve. He should never have allowed Tally to accompany him, but he had grown used to the man’s presence—like a shadow, hound dog and bodyguard combined—and he’d been unable to refuse Tally’s request to view such a sight from the best location. Tally had a way of talking just about anyone around to what he wanted.

Personally, Nathaniel had seen enough. As much as he wanted to take in all there was to be seen as they turned the ship towards their final destination, his expertise would soon be needed elsewhere. He’d calculated the new improved Sovereign would have enough power to resist Jupiter’s pull, but… This was Jupiter. King of planets.

“I know I’m an ignorant Fenian, but if I’m about to meet me maker, tell me why.”

Nathaniel ignored the implied sarcasm. Did Tally really want to know? Tempted to tell him that in this case perhaps ignorance would be advised and indeed blissful, Nathaniel’s scientific bent rose to the fore. “Jupiter is so massive if it were any larger it would become a star. In comparison it has a gargantuan magnetic field, one we believe to be twenty-thousand times stronger than that of Earth.” He’d learned a lot of this from Wollf, or she had at least filled in the gaps his knowledge, education, experience, and Kaskuu had not provided.

“Sure and that’s all very interesting, Nate. Not exactly enlightening me as to our predicament. If I understood his nibs back there, the erm…gravity of our situation is, well, gravity.”

Nathaniel winced a little. “It is but one of our concerns, although the most pressing. It is not the only life-threatening problem facing us.” He did not bother explaining further. They had first to break the atmosphere without burning up or missing the point of entry, pass through clouds with winds travelling over three-hundred miles an hour, find somewhere to land—something all the scientific minds back on Earth kept insisting was impossible—and if they could not find breathable air, which even Nathaniel believed unlikely, carry out a portion if not the whole of their mission in atmosphere suits. Of his smaller devices…those required testing, putting at least one man’s life at risk.

One problem at a time was enough.

Tally was still looking at him expectantly. “Can the pull really be that much stronger than Earth?”

Nathaniel knew that, since leaving Mars, Tally had been reading up as much as he could, that and talking to the experts on the ship—once he got over his initial bout of aether sickness. He still didn’t understand much of the science, but he had a much better grasp of the basics now than he did two months ago.

“Indeed.” They had already been compensating for Jupiter’s gravitational draw, but he did not bother to enlighten or worry the man. “The easiest way to explain our predicament is to tell you what is happening to Io, the closest moon to Jupiter. It’s so close that part of it intersects the atmosphere with a costly result. The pull upon it is so great that the side that bulges into the atmosphere flexes and suffers immense interior distortion.” Nathaniel sought for a way to explain more simply and, searching his pockets, he came up with a piece of wire, plucked it out and turned to Tally. “If you were to bend this back and forth several times, what would happen?”

Tally shrugged. “It would break. Any eejit can see that.”

“Yes, eventually. It would also grow warm at the point where you were submitting the force. Io suffers exceptional heat in its interior. It is a place some might say is akin to Hell itself. Gigantic volcanoes. Streams of sulphur.”

Tally’s brow had furrowed. “So…if Jupiter can do that to a moon…” For the first time he sounded as if he wished to be anywhere but here.

Nathaniel studied the man as he passed through various stages of emotions, most of which could be readily seen on his face. The moment Tally suppressed his fear and accepted that it was too late for him to make choices, he was here, and there was no getting out of it, ended with a wry twist of his lips.

“Enjoying being the eyes of the Bureau still?”

“And to think I’d be happily supping a Guinness in Dublin if I’d not met yer.” Tally regarded Nathaniel with a rueful look. “If I know yer at all, Nate, sure and yer’ll have some kind of plan rattling about in that heads of yours.”

“Naturally. We’ve calculated the best and most plausible point of entry.” Seeing that Tally remained interested, or perhaps sought reassurance, Nathaniel continued. “We’re almost at that point now. The difficulty is the degree of entry. Too shallow and we’ll skip up and off without penetrating. Too steep and…” Perhaps it was best not to share that outcome.

“I can’t say I’m liking the sound of what yer not saying,” Tally said when Nathaniel failed to explain.

Deciding not to lie or prevaricate, Nathaniel replied, “Well too steep and we’d burn—”

The ship shook, pitched him to one side, and then slammed him back the other way.

“Feckin’ hell!” Tally yelped.

For a time Nathaniel was aware only of hovering on the edge of blacking out. From somewhere a klaxon sounded, calling everyone to action. The clamour hardly seemed necessary. A person would have to be dead already not to realise something had gone terribly wrong. Nathaniel had just taken a whack to the head as well as other parts of his anatomy. He hardly needed alarm bells vibrating around what was left of his brain.

As Nathaniel blinked to clear his vision he realised that while an alarm did indeed sound, it was nowhere near as loud as he’d imagined. He could ill afford a concussion; he was therefore worried and shocked when, reaching up to brush a hand across his face, his fingers came away covered in blood.

“Yer bleeding there,” Tally told him quite unnecessarily.

“That I am and—”

The ship lurched. When it regained some semblance of order, Nathaniel fought to stand, accepting a helping hand from Tally. When he regained his feet, both men stumbled back to the bridge.

Even as Nathaniel grabbed hold of the door frame, clinging on, he heard the captain say, “It’s now or never. Set the course and send us on our way.”

Nathaniel opened his mouth to shout no, this was happening too soon, when he realised that Jupiter had made the decision for them. Some miscalculation… Someone’s error… He didn’t know the cause and he didn’t like not knowing, but he considered this and let it go in an instant. They were caught in Jupiter’s pull and all that mattered now was survival.

2.

CAUGHT IN AN UNEXPECTED pull the captain made the only decision possible. They’d hoped to descend lower before setting the right trajectory for entry through the outer atmosphere, but a hasty discussion had all agreeing that it was better to compensate and head on in. They were betting on much—that the approaching storm which would catch their tail end acted like any on Earth, and that above or below there would be a quiet zone. The sight was almost as amazing as Jupiter itself—the outer hull of Sovereign glowing as those on board fought to overcome the forces that all at once tried to pull the ship apart, drag it into a downward spiral, and yet throw it back out into the aether itself—all these energies at once making the haul shudder and scream.

The ship flared under duress, first amber, then red, then white. Sovereign began to shriek even as the captain made adjustments, shouted orders, battled to keep the ship on tack. The ship’s screeching could be heard but also felt, and not only in the way the vessel juddered. Beneath this there was a sensation, akin to a vibration so deep it shivered through Theobald’s bones and teeth. He glanced around the bridge and saw Stone had returned with Cahalleret. The Irishman was making the sign of the cross and the captain wouldn’t have been surprised if the civilian complement throughout the ship was doing the same. The crew… Well, one or two might want to, but they were trained for this.

Whether the pleas worked or the events were merely happenstance, the moment Sovereign breeched the outer atmosphere was evident by the ship gathering speed. The colours of the outer glow changed and the squealing ceased, although the ship continued to shudder and groan. Perhaps they could avoid the storm below them yet.

One man was heard to say, “Well, we’re out of that,” when a flash of white struck across the bow. It was gone in an instant before the captain could correct their course.

“Damage reports,” he snapped, and the information began to pour in. Even as he catalogued the cost to the ship and crew, he looked towards the forward window to see what horrors awaited them next.

Lightning flashed in long, fragmented streaks so close and from so many directions as to almost form a crosshatch—a net that might fall upon Sovereign any moment and lay waste to life aboard if not the ship itself. Penetrating the outer rim of the atmosphere seemed to focus the wrath of the planet in this one spot.

Fanciful notion, and untrue if only in the sense that if such an act of vengeance was possible, Jupiter had a number of ways to exert its full force, all of which would wipe them out as a man might swot a fly.

Still, the only noun suitable for what presented itself through the viewing ports was anger. Rolling thunderheads approached in great dark banks. The situation on board Sovereign was not difficult to imagine—those without a task that could in anyway help, clinging to the vessel as hard as they clung to hope. Barked orders were as good as anticipated and obeyed almost before the captain uttered them.

They could not hear the wind outside, but did not need to listen to know that if it had a voice, it howled. Darkness descended as if trying to smother them, then cleared as the ship dropped several layers down, making stomach’s heave and the crew retch.

One of the men said, “Captain, did you see…?” to which the captain snapped, “A storm? Yes, I’m not blind, man. It’s a ferocious one. Well, what is it that could be more important right now?”

“N-Nothing, sir, Captain, sir.”

3.

ON THE BRIDGE, SEAMAN Roberts gasped, forgetting to carry out the captain’s barked command as the cloud beside him began to swirl as though boiling. Lightning zapped jagged white lines through the seething mass, the blue and white broken by red flashes that made the clouds appear licked by flames.

The crewman had heard of the volcanic activity on Io. Was it possible that they were diving down into a field of lava? He was about to shout out for the captain when the clouds parted. Something large, moving faster than he would have thought possible, rushed towards him, leaving him with the impression of something hard and craggy, a flash of colour, and a row of teeth—if teeth could be the same length as the height of a full-grown man.

Vaguely he was aware of his name being called. He shook himself out of his shock long enough to make the necessary instrument changes. As the hull continued to scream in protest, his concentration was once more taken up with duty and performance of the task at hand.

When he had a chance to think, he decided he had to be mistaken. What he’d seen was just a rock. This place had spooked him, and while there might be room in the universe for giant ants that could communicate, of the creature he thought he’d seen there was no chance. Being out in the aether was bad enough, but what he’d imagined went against everything he believed in of Heaven, and transported him to Hell itself. Another glance outside revealed only the turbulent upper atmosphere of Jupiter. He’d mistaken what he’d seen or not seen a thing. Hardly surprising when even now they groaned their way through noxious gases far out in the universe where he was sure man was never meant to tread. He’d say not a word or he’d spend the rest of the journey locked up somewhere having been labelled a mad man.

Roberts set his mind to following orders, grateful that he’d realised his error before causing himself any embarrassment.

The absence of rain made the storm eerie, though they were drenched in fury. Although the captain fought to keep them on some kind of course and out of the worst, the ship hit pockets where the wind spun them around as if they were a toy played with in the hands of a child. At times the wind was so fierce it grabbed them in its fist and shook them as if it wished to bully them apart.

Lower. They had to go lower. Fortunately, those on board were aware of this, and Roberts anticipated and responded to corresponding orders.

As they dropped, he was sure he was not the only one to suffer several more heart stopping minutes where nothing prevented his internal organs leaping into his throat along with the bile of hopelessness and the desire to be sick. He was better than to react to this, but training and experience appeared to have no care in the selection process of those affected.

One man who had already looked green for some minutes paled, turning as grey-white as the storm clouds, leaned over to spew. Another was fast off the mark and shoved a bag under his face. Roberts swallowed involuntarily, afraid he would be next and, despite keeping his delusions to himself, would suffer some indignity by being taken ill.

4.

“WE’RE GOING TO DIE,” Nathaniel murmured, speaking so low that no-one should have heard. He said it to taste the sound of it, feel the possibility roll around in his mouth and on his tongue. He’d been at risk many times, had breached that barrier, was surprised to find that it could still hold some mystery for him, though he was not afraid. It struck him almost as a delight to realise that Captain Theobald had overheard. The man shot him a look; one that demanded to know what was he doing on his bridge, at the same time as good as declaring him a coward. Nathaniel could swear the comment was on the captain’s lips, but by then Nathaniel had turned to face him. They exchanged a look, and an expression—a faint tightening of Theobald’s brow indicating puzzlement—came over the captain’s face.

He knows I’m not scared.

Indeed, but the captain was, as would any sane person be. Bravery did not equate to not experiencing fear. Nathaniel could see the captain’s apprehension in every dewdrop of sweat upon the man’s brow and as mere split seconds passed they waged a war of wits. The battle was one of which Nathaniel easily became the victor despite the years of experience Theobald had behind him. Simply, Nathaniel was not afraid, but Theobald had all the worries, concerns, and weaknesses of sensible men. Did that make Nathaniel without sense, or had he simply lost them all? He could not say. He just knew that despite his declaration, he would not die here, today. None of them would. Still, things would grow worse before they improved.

As if his decision had a hand in events, one of the crewmen gasped, and all turned their heads. Streaks of distant lightning were so dense they ripped through Jupiter’s sky as if they hoped to form a curtain of white light. The clouds boiled and rolled towards them, bubbling and frothing with what he could only call a physical representation of rage. In seconds it would seethe over them and he was the only one aboard who had any faith in their survival.

“What God forsaken place have yer brought me to?” Tally asked.

When the cloud hit they experienced the worst juddering yet. For a few seconds it was as if something held them in an unforgiving grip, refusing to let go even as other forces attempted to pull them in all directions. The result was a deep shuddering spasm that passed from machinery to man, making Nathaniel’s nerves quake.

This was surely the worst of it, only no, for the next moment Sovereign slewed to the left, then back to the right, the unpredictable lurches having the most heinous effect on stomachs yet. Nathaniel had his hands clenched, his teeth caged with lips pulled back in a silent snarl while his head pulsed with the worst type of sickness.

Damn the frailty of man. Wicked waves of queasiness affected not only his stomach but his very brain. He wanted to lend a hand if only to bring an end to this terrible sensation, but he could do nothing that the captain could not do and, alas, their entry into Jupiter’s atmosphere had been so sudden and against their original plan, he’d never make it to engineering even if he tried. As he watched, it soon became clear that even the captain’s job was hopeless. He might as well join Bedford on the floor where the commander had been flung off his feet. Even Tally had fallen to one knee, his strong grip being the only thing stopping him flying over completely.

The ship continued to drop.

Choosing a direction was futile when they knew not where to head. Right now they were already going in the only possible direction: down. They would either pass through the turbulence or die trying and Nathaniel remained convinced they would not die this day.

Just when it seemed the ship could not take any more punishment, everything stopped.

A pause ensued of stunned astonishment, likely shared by everyone on the ship. Men gazed around, exchanged glances. Relief eased through the bridge, but only as men began to sigh and smile, exchange nods of accomplishment before getting back on with their jobs, did Nathaniel realise his hearing was somewhat diminished and his body still buzzed.

Bedford had already scrambled back onto his feet, straightened his uniform. Tally was now pushing himself up and the first thing he did was to turn to Nathaniel.

“Yer all right there, Nate?”

He gave Tally a nod, endeavouring to pop his ears, relieved when he succeeded somewhat, glad to have sound restored.

At that moment, Orlondo Quintana burst onto the bridge. “Did you see? Did you see?”

Theobald looked fit to burst, but before he could admonish the palaeontologist or scream for unwarranted personnel to leave his bridge, Bedford asked, “To what are you referring, Quintana?”

“The…” Orlondo stopped. “I don’t know. A red glow. And fire, and something moving. Si, yes, something moving at great speed. Something I would swear was flying.”

For a stunned moment everyone stared at the man as if he were mad. Then a tremulous voice spoke up from one side of the bridge.

“Captain, sir, about that. About the something I mentioned that I thought I saw…”