“Diamonds!” he blurted aloud.
O’Hara, standing beside him, turned toward him. “What did you say?”
“Those smaller particles … they’re tiny diamonds!”
“No!”
“Yes, really,” Grant said. “Tap into the analysis. They’re pure crystallized carbon. Diamonds.”
“Glory be,” said O’Hara.
Krebs, monitoring the analysis equipment along with everything else, said, “Congratulations, Mr. Archer, you have discovered a diamond mine.”
“We can bring some back with us,” Grant said, grinning for the first time in days.
“Ah, but they’re too small for jewelry,” said O’Hara sadly. “Microscopic, don’t you see.”
Krebs grunted behind them. “Considering the cost of this mission, they will be the most expensive diamonds ever found.”
That dampened Grant’s mood almost completely. He returned to monitoring the sensors. Still, he thought, rivers of diamonds flowing in the Jovian ocean. A snowfall of diamonds. I wonder if the Jovians appreciate what God’s giving them?
For nearly thirty-six hours they cruised at the ninety-kilometer level, the ship groaning and creaking, the crew in greater and greater discomfort. Karlstad grumbled constantly; even Muzorawa was clearly having a difficult time of it, despite his stoic refusal to complain. No sign of Jovians, nothing seemed to be moving in the ocean except the streams of particles constantly flowing past.
All that time Krebs remained on the bridge, fully linked to every one of the ship’s systems. Grant and the others took their rest periods, tried to get a couple of hours of sleep, injected analgesics into their neck ports to ease the constant pain and pressure. Yet Krebs remained awake and on duty.
“Captain,” said Karlstad at last, “as life-support specialist and the closest thing we have to a medical doctor, I must remind you that you’ve been on duty without relief for more than two days straight now.”
“Thank you, Dr. Karlstad,” Krebs replied, her voice heavy with irony. “You have reminded me. Now take your station and do your duty.”
“It’s my duty to remind you that you must rest,” Karlstad said, looking worried.
“I am not ready for a rest period,” Krebs said firmly. “I do not need it.”
Grant and O’Hara were still linked to their consoles, ready to come off duty. Muzorawa was hovering by the hatch that led back to the berths.
Swimming over to the life-support console, Karlstad pointed at one of its display screens. “Captain, it’s not me. It’s the mission regulations. The medical monitors show a dangerous level of fatigue poisons in your blood. Your reflexes have slowed. Your pulse and respiration rates are approaching the redline.”
Krebs said nothing. She merely floated in the middle of the cramped bridge, glowering at Karlstad.
Muzorawa said reasonably, “Captain, if you don’t rest, your performance will deteriorate even more. The mission regulations require you to relinquish command when your physical parameters—”
“I know the regulations!” Krebs snapped.
“You must rest, Captain,” Muzorawa said, even more gently. “Even if it’s only for an hour.”
Grant thought, She doesn’t want to disconnect from the ship. She’s hooked on being connected, like an addict.
To Grant’s surprise, though, Krebs’s baleful frown dissolved into a dejected mask of defeat. “Very well, if you insist.”
“It’s for the better, Captain,” said Muzorawa.
“Yes, I understand.” Krebs began disconnecting, slowly, begrudging every move, as far as Grant could see.
The bridge fell absolutely silent as she disconnected.
When at last she was free of the fiber-optic lines, she said sourly, “Very well. Dr. Muzorawa, I place you in charge. Dr. Karlstad, wake me in one hour.”
“In one hour,” said Karlstad. “Right.”
She pushed off the overhead with one hand and swam toward the hatch. Muzorawa was still hovering there, looking surprised as Krebs headed straight for him.
She banged into Muzorawa and bounced off, with a gasp of surprise, her eyes going wide.
“Pardon me, Captain,” Muzorawa said, also looking shocked.
“I-I didn’t notice you there,” Krebs stuttered. She reached gropingly for the edge of the hatch, gripped it in one chunky hand, pulled herself through and slid the hatch shut behind her with a bang.
For a long moment no one on the bridge said a word.
Then Karlstad whispered, “Jesus Christ, she’s blind!”
“No,” said O’Hara. “That can’t be.”
“You saw her,” Karlstad insisted. “She ran smack into Zeb. She didn’t see him! She said so herself.”
“That’s why she wants to remain linked with the ship,” Muzorawa said slowly. “She can see through the ship’s systems.”
Karlstad nodded grimly. “But when she disconnects she’s blind as a bat.”
CONFUSION
“Well, what are we going to do about it?” O’Hara asked.
“We can’t have a blind woman running the mission,” said Karlstad.
Muzorawa, connecting the optical fibers from his console, pointed out, “But she’s not blind when she’s connected.”
Karlstad began to link up, too. “Whatever damage was done to her visual cortex, it’s gotten worse.”
“’Tis the pressure we’re under,” said O’Hara.
“Right. It’s damaging her brain even more,” Karlstad agreed.
“It only seems to affect her visual cortex,” Muzorawa said.
“So far,” said Karlstad. “How long will it be before other parts of her brain start to cave in?”
His eyes riveted on the closed hatch, Grant heard himself say, “She’s sailing us toward the Red Spot.”
“She’ll turn off long before we’re in any danger,” Muzorawa said.
“Will she?” Karlstad asked.
“Of course she will.”
“I think she’s going crazy,” Karlstad said. “She was always a tyrant. Now she’s getting fanatical, ignoring a direct order from the IAA.”
“We all agreed that we want to continue the mission,” Muzorawa said.
“Did we?” Karlstad shot back. “Nobody asked me.”
“Are you afraid, ’Gon?” O’Hara challenged him.
“Afraid? Me? Ninety kilometers down with a crazy blind woman in command who’s telling the IAA to stick it in their lower intestine? What’s there to be afraid of?”
Muzorawa finished connecting his optical fiber links. “I think a certain amount of fear is a healthy sign. But we mustn’t let it overwhelm us. We must not panic or take rash actions.”
“What do you mean by rash?” O’Hara asked. “Relieving Krebs of command,” Karlstad replied instantly.
“We can’t do that,” Grant said.
“Not even if she’s going to get us all killed?”
“There is no evidence of that,” said Muzorawa. Then he added, “As yet.”
O’Hara looked toward the closed hatch. “She must be in terrible pain.”
“She doesn’t act it,” said Karlstad.
“Not physical pain, perhaps, but… imagine being blind. Unable to see.”
“Unless she’s connected to the ship.”
“Yes,” said O’Hara, in a whisper. “There is that.”
“So what are we going to do?” Karlstad demanded.
No one had an answer.
Krebs returned to the bridge exactly one hour after she left, without the need for Karlstad to rouse her.
Watching her link up, it now seemed obvious to Grant that she couldn’t see. She fingered each of the optical fibers, her eyes unfocused, and ran its end across the electrodes in her legs until its minuscule electrical field clicked into place with the proper implant. She can’t see the color codes on the fibers, Grant realized. She can’t see anything at all.