Jupiter Project (26 page)

“I don’t know. To produce food? Maybe for a fish that can build star ships?” I grinned.

“That’s a big project. Jupiter has millions of times the life-supporting volume Earth does.”

“Size won’t stop men; I don’t see why it should stop anything else that can think. In fifty years we might be wrapping a sheet around Ganymede’s atmosphere to keep the oxygen in and make a better greenhouse out of it. Given time maybe we can do something with Jupiter, too—if somebody doesn’t beat us to the property first.”

Dad gingerly touched one of the metal things. “Perhaps…perhaps. We’re all going to be cooking up theories about this place, and no one will know the right answer until that green dot gets here.”

“You and I will be around to see it happen. Dad,” I said. “ISA can’t ship me Earthside now.”

“Not without a fight from me, and the Commander too, I expect.” He waved to the other men. “Better pack up!” he called. “We ought to bring the whole expedition down and set up a base at the edge of the crater. We want to do this carefully.”

He moved over to talk to the rest. I looked back at the beckoning circle at the end of the tunnel. The
Sagan
was a sharp bright point framed by Jupiter’s smoky bands.

Jupiter changes constantly. Her bands are an elaborate waltz of white streamers, crimson splotches, lacy brown filaments. The Red Spot seethes and churns. I was going to see a lot of the bands; I might spend my whole life out here.

Somebody has to be around when the owners of J-11 return. There’ll be a whole colony out here by then, waiting. Zak would stay, probably, despite his fatalism. Mom and Dad, yes—it was in their blood.

Jenny, too—and what that meant for me I couldn’t say. Not yet.

Yuri might even stay. Well, I’d handle that too.

That chilling knot of fear in me was gone now, burned away. I’d been carrying that fear since I was a kid. If it ever came back I could recognize it, overcome it. A lot of problems are like that—they wither away if you look at them straight on, unflinching. To grow, gamble. Self-knowledge isn’t always bad news, after all.

It felt good inside to know that. Ultimately, there isn’t anything
worth
fearing.

The Lab people knew that. They had come this immense distance across the ocean of space, risking everything, living in a cramped tin can—all for the sake of knowledge, to stick their noses into things, to see what makes the universe tick. It’s a human thing to do. Without it we’d bore ourselves to death.

I couldn’t predict the future, but I did know one thing: I wasn’t going to get bored.

“Matt!” my father called. “We’re loading up.”

I freed my magnetic anchors and went to help.