He told the probes to shield him. As the probes leapt forward, all three of them howled. Their voices shook the ice.
Dazed, the tribe flailed ineffectively. Many of them tangled with each other in the air. They bounced awkwardly, filling the tunnel and hindering the rest of the tribe.
Lam and Probe 117 swatted four males into the ceiling, then clubbed the next pair to arrive. He howled again. Like a tsunami, the sound brushed the sunfish back. Quivering, they scrambled to the upper sections of the ice with attentive postures. The battered males were less alert but utterly silent.
Inside Lander 04, Metzler grinned. “If you can’t join ’em, beat ’em,” he said, earning a look from Vonnie. She wanted to be irritated with him, but she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing his hand and laughing. Dealing with the sunfish was like dealing with bureaucrats on Earth. Sometimes it was necessary to smack them over the head repeatedly to make them see.
“Lam?” she said. “We have one last card to play.”
—Roger that.
Charlotte and Brigit were the first to sign again, snaking their arms uncertainly. Another intelligent female replied, then three more, then Tom and other males.
The sunfish turned their attention inward. Those on the edge of the group remained mindful of Lam, ready to defend the tribe, but at their center, their tempo escalated. They moved faster than human eyes could determine, seeking consensus about ideas that had been inconceivable before his arrival.
As the tribe squirmed and cried, Lam piped at them, a single, clear, harmless shriek.
They turned.
He held up three arms and mutilated the center arm tip, peeling the cartilage down to his alumalloy frame.
The sunfish screamed. They bared their undersides, but their beaks didn’t clamp or bite. They tasted the thin air, absorbing the scent of Lam’s flesh. Their sonar calls inundated him, comparing his bloody metal arm with the probes’ bare frames.
LAM: I am not sunfish / My tribe is great.
CHARLOTTE AND TOM: You do not hurt / There is no smell of fear / No pain / Your tribe is great.
LAM: We can be powerful allies.
CHARLOTTE: You offer food and tools and more like you?
LAM: Yes / Truce.
As she questioned him, the other sunfish continued their debate. Their frenzy reached its climax. Then they swung on Lam as one, issuing their judgment. It was more than truce. It was a proposal to merge and bond with “Lam’s tribe.”
ALL SUNFISH: Treaty / We deliver ourselves to you / Equals / As equals / Our strength is yours and yours is ours / We offer a treaty with you.
“We did it,” Vonnie breathed. Her excitement was too immense to feel all at once. It percolated through her chest like a geyser, lifting and spreading inside her.
LAM: Yes / Treaty / Yes.
57.
His conversation with the sunfish became more intimate. They engulfed him, sniffing, rubbing. The ritual was similar to their memorization lessons, a method of consolidating Lam and the probes with the tribe by learning each other’s bodies and scents.
Vonnie stood up and glanced at her crewmates, those beside her in Lander 04 and those on the group feed in Lander 05. Koebsch. Frerotte. Johal. O’Neal. Metzler and Ash. They’d developed varying degrees of friendship and trust, but they were united now — united forever — by what they’d accomplished.
It was the beginning of peace between Top Clan Eight-Six and the ESA. It was a mutual step forward for humankind and the lifeforms inside Europa. Helping the sunfish, teaching them, would require years or even generations, but the two species were finally on a path to the common good.
“Congratulations, people,” Koebsch said. In Lander 05, he clapped Frerotte on the shoulders, then gave a thumbs-up to everyone in 04.
Vonnie met Koebsch’s gaze as the men and women around her exchanged smiles and handshakes, chatting too loudly. If Dawson was watching them, she hoped he got an earful. “We couldn’t have done this without you,” she told Koebsch.
“You worked harder than anyone.”
“No, sir. I don’t think so.”
Nearby, Ash hugged Metzler and pecked his cheek, her hazel eyes relaxed and bright for the first time since the blow-out. It didn’t matter that she’d also kissed O’Neal. Feeling a twinge of possessiveness, Vonnie decided to interrupt before Ash grew any more physical with Metzler. First it was important to express her gratitude to Koebsch.
“I’m sorry for everything,” she said.
“I’m not,” Koebsch said.
“Pärnits and Collinsworth…”
“They’d appreciate what we’ve done, Von. You should be proud.”
“Thank you.”
Vonnie left her station and elbowed Ash with a sisterly nudge, not too rough, not too soft. The young woman opened her mouth to protest. “Hey!” Then she laughed and walked to O’Neal and Johal, hugging them.
Metzler beamed. His dog-ugly face was handsome with victory, and, for once, he didn’t have a rude comment or a joke. He merely shook his head and grinned.
Vonnie embraced him as she spoke the sunfish shape out loud, relishing it.
“Treaty,” she said.
Acknowledgments
Many of the usual suspects participated in the writing of The Frozen Sky; Ben Bowen, Ph.D, computational biologist with Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory; Michael Stein, Ph.D, neurologist with Diablo Clinic Research; Charles H. Hanson, M.D.; my father, Gus Carlson, Ph.D, mechanical engineer and division leader (ret.) with Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory; Matthew J. Harrington, evil genius, author of many of the stories and novellas in the Man-Kzin War collections and co-author of The Goliath Stone; and Penny Hill, plain old super genius.
I’d also like to extend special acknowledgements to Ben “The Other Ben” Metzler, super fan, whose vision of Europa was integral to this project finding new life; Jeff “The Other Jeff” Quiros, who’s always in my corner; Jeff “The Real Jeff” Sierzenga, an excellent buddy and contributor, whose daughter Ashley earned her way into the adventure; and Diana, my best friend, wife, and strongest supporter.
In the Czech Republic, Martin Sust and Karel Zeman must claim their share of responsibility for this story’s success. As editor of Pevnost Magazine, Martin brought the original novella to his country and introduced me to illustrator extraordinaire Karel Zeman, a man who knows his way around shadows and light. My thanks to you both.
In addition, I’d like to offer gratitude and praise to the good folks at NASA and JPL. Their work in the real world is more exciting than my imagination, and I devoured mountains of their reports, articles, online discussions, and slide shows. Professor Ted Stryk generously allowed me to include his work on the cover. You can also find images taken by the Voyager 1, Galileo, and Cassini probes on my web site at www.jverse.com in a special Europa-themed photo gallery under the Galleries menu.
Also included in the Galleries is “The Making Of Alexis Vonderach,” where award-winning artist Jacob Charles Dietz has arranged a spectacular art sequence. It shows his initial concept work through the final cover of The Frozen Sky.
Last but not least, a tip of the hat and complimentary grapefruit (you had to be there) to my hard-working agents on all sides of the continent, Donald Maass, Cameron McClure, and Jim Ehrich.