The Space Opera MEGAPACK ®. Jay Lake
was an old and familiar dream. A hand was pressing him down hard against the ground, and it kept on pressing. His chest collapsed, the broken ends of shattered ribs lacerating his lungs, his intestines squashed into a messy pulp. The bones of his skull began to yield, but still the giant hand kept pressing, pressing, grinding against skin and bone until he was nothing but a red smear on the dirt. And still the hand kept pressing until there was nothing but a liquid trace, cells imploding, molecules crumpling, elements forced together to make new compounds.
And the worst part was that he was still alive, still aware and able to feel.
It wouldn’t be like that, Durgan knew. If the hull was breached, death would be instantaneous, a blast of pressure which would paste him against the metal before he would have time to even guess at what was happening. But the cold knowledge brought little comfort. Imagination still continued to haunt him with speculations of what might happen, what would happen if something went wrong.
The others didn’t appear to be worried.
Nanset was the engineer, a quiet, scholarly-looking man who wore contact lenses and spoke in a voice barely more than a whisper. Pendris was different, a tough veteran of the Jovian moons, a hard man with calculating eyes and the muscles of a bull. His job was to operate the waldoes.
Creech made the introductions, then retreated to stand beside a screen. Sheila took a position beside a projector, a warm touch of color in the otherwise spartan furnishings of the room.
“Now that we have all met, I want to brief you on what has to be done.” Creech’s dry, emotionless voice was swallowed by the soundproofing of the chamber. “As you know, we are going to send a vessel down to the solid core of Jupiter. Nanset has assured me that his force-field will provide ample protection against the pressure and, as his own neck will be involved, I tend to believe him. Aside from that, the vessel has been reinforced with multiple hulls to allow for a cascade accumulation against external pressure. To adjust the build-up will be Pendris’s job. Durgan, naturally, will be the pilot. The nature of the operation is basically simple. We are going to salvage a lost cargo.”
He snapped his fingers as light and color glowed from the screen, flight paths traced in strands of white, red dots moving to illustrate his explanation.
“A few months ago, a ship of the United Combines set out for Earth. Unfortunately, it was hit by a scrap of uncharted debris that contained sufficient velocity to throw the vessel towards Jupiter. The heat-energy generated by the impact fused the drive-system and, helpless, the ship fell into the atmosphere. Before being destroyed the crew managed to arrange a continuous-message broadcast, and the descent of the stricken vessel was monitored all the way down to just before the final landing. The cargo was, and is, extremely valuable. Recovery will ensure that we all gain rich rewards.”
Put like that, it was simple, idiotically so. Durgan glanced from one to the other of his crew, and when neither mentioned the obvious, he did so himself.
“Jupiter isn’t a small place. You’re talking of something which has close to twenty-five thousand million square miles of solid surface area.”
Creech turned from the screen. “I know that.”
“Radio transmissions from the planet aren’t reliable. If you’re hoping that cross-bearings determined the crash-point, then you’re hoping for too much.”
“I realize that also.” Creech was unflustered. “Fortunately, we don’t have to depend on dead-reckoning, radio fixes, or educated guesses. The entire descent of the vessel was computerized and the probable crash-point has been determined to within five square miles.” He snapped his fingers before Durgan could say more. The picture on the screen changed to that of a spaceship.
“The Archimedes,” said Creech. “The vessel that crashed. You will note that it is a normal interplanetary transport with capabilities for carrying both cargo and passengers. No passengers were carried on its last journey. A special cargo container was fitted within the hull and occupied this space.” His hand tapped the screen. “I think it safe to presume that the vanes carrying the guiding jets would have been ripped from the structure within a short while after entering the atmosphere. I think we can also assume that the crash with the meteor weakened the rear so that too would have been torn free. The remainder, together with the cargo container, most probably fell as a single unit, perhaps disintegrating on landing.”
He paused as if expecting objections and, when he received none, continued.
“It may be necessary to cut free the cargo container, and the salvage vessel has been provided with means to do so. You will also be provided with power-assisted suits to enable you to move in the high gravity. Continuous scrambled-beam radio transmission will be maintained during the entire flight. Miss Moray will take care of communications. Have any of you any questions?’
Pendris lifted his voice. “Do we get a chance of some training? If I’m to handle unfamiliar devices in a hostile environment, I’d like to check them out before we start.”
“This is only a preliminary briefing. You will have ample time to do as you suggest.”
Durgan said, “I’m not happy about the crash-point area. It’s too large. Five square miles is a lot of territory when you’re relying on naked-eye vision—and in the soup, you don’t see far at the best of times. Is there any way of narrowing the field?”
“There is. I will tell you about it later.”
“All right, I’ll accept that, but what about the computerized landing? Down low, conditions are unknown. How could a machine have determined the correct flight-path?”
“It did. You must take my word for it.”
Nanset whispered, “This cargo. Supposing the container has burst and scattered the contents. How will we recognize it?”
“I’ll tell you that just before you leave.” Creech nodded to the girl, and the screen went blank as she turned off the projector. “From now on, you stay together. You talk to no one and you go nowhere without my permission. Is that perfectly clear?”
“In other words, we’re prisoners,” said Durgan grimly.
“You object?”
“I object to a lot of things, and one of them is putting my head on a block. But making a fortune is something I like. For that I’m prepared to play along, but I like to know what the rewards are.”
Creech met his eyes. “I promised you all that you will be rich for life.”
“Rich is just a word, and for me it isn’t good enough. How about some figures?”
“Five million,” said Sheila from where she stood behind the projector. “Five million for each of you. Good enough?”
Pendris whistled. “For me, yes.”
Nanset blinked. Durgan turned to face the girl and met her cool stare.
“The jackpot,” she said. “That’s what I promised, and that’s what you’ll get. Any more questions?”
“One,” said Durgan. “Where is the ship?”
“On Europa.” Creech stepped from the screen. “We’ll be there in three days time.”
* * * *
Europa, half the mass of Luna, almost half a million miles from the heart of Jupiter, a place of eroded stone and crumbling rock. A small place with sheds and workshops, electric furnaces burning their way into the metallic heart, atomic engines spewing out heat and light and slugs of fuel for the engines that sent the ships across the void.
A rough place with the great disc of Jupiter filling the sky at night and the sun a pin-point at day. Airless, barren, a disposal dump for unwanted scrap. An ideal place in which to convert a ship in privacy.
Durgan checked that ship inch by inch.
It was an adapted bucket boat, the massive hull reinforced by four extra