“Because I…” Ricci looked from face to face, big brown eyes serious. Everyone quieted down. “I was unhappy. Listen, I’ve been talking with some people from the other whale crews. They’ve been having problems for a while now, and it’s getting worse.”
She fired a stack of bookmarks into the middle of the room. Everyone began riffling through them, except me.
“That’s too bad,” I said.
“Don’t you want to know what’s going on, Doc?” asked Chara.
I folded my arms and scowled in the general direction of the extruder.
“No,” I said flatly. “I don’t give a shit about them.”
“Well, you better,” Vula said. “Because if it’s happening to them, it could happen to us. Look.”
She fired a feed from a remote sensing drone into the middle of the room. A group of whales had gathered a hundred meters above a slushy depression between a pair of high ridges. They weren’t feeding, just drifting around aimlessly, dangerously close to each other. When they got close to each other, they unfurled their petals and brushed them along each other’s skin.
As we watched, two whales collided. Their bladders bubbled out like a crechie’s squeeze toy until it looked like they would burst. Seeing the two massive creatures collide like that was so upsetting, I actually reached into the feed and tried to push them apart. Embarrassing.
“Come on Doc, tell us what’s happening,” said Vula.
“I don’t know.” I tucked my hands into my armpits as if I was cold.
“We should go help,” said Eddy. “At least we could assist with the evac if they need to bail.”
I shook my head. “It could be dangerous.”
Everyone laughed at that. People who aren’t comfortable with risk don’t roam the atmosphere.
“It might be a disease,” I added. “We should stay as far away as we can. We don’t want to catch it.”
Treasure pulled a face at me. “You’re getting old.”
I grabbed my breather and goggles and bounded toward the hatch.
“Come on Doc, take a guess,” Ricci said.
“More observation would be required before I’d be comfortable advancing a theory,” I said stiffly. “I can only offer conjecture.”
“Go ahead, conjecture away,” said Vula.
I took a moment to collect myself, and then turned and addressed the crew with professorial gravity.
“It’s possible the other crews haven’t been maintaining the interventions that ensure their whales don’t move into reproductive maturity.”
“You’re saying the whales are horny?” said Bouche.
“They look horny,” said Treasure.
“They’re fascinated with each other,” said Vula.
Vula had put her finger on exactly the thing that was bothering me. Whales don’t congregate. They don’t interact socially. They certainly don’t mate.
“I’d guess the applicable pseudoneural tissue has regenerated, perhaps incompletely, and their behavior is confused.”
Ricci gestured at the feed, where three whales collided, dragging their petals across each other’s bulging skin. “This isn’t going to happen to us?”
“No, I said. “Definitely not. Don’t worry. Unlike the others, I’ve been keeping on top of the situation.”
“But how can you be sure?” And then realization dawned over Ricci’s face. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly.”
She launched herself from the netting and bounced toward me. “Why didn’t you share the information? Keeping it secret is just cruel.”
I backed toward the hatch. “It’s not my responsibility to save the others from their stupid mistakes.”
“We need to tell them how to fix it. Maybe they can save themselves.”
“Tell them whatever you want.” I excavated my private notes from lockdown, and fired them into the middle of the room. “I think their best option would be to abandon their whales and find new ones.”
“That would take months,” Vula said. “Nineteen whales. More than two hundred people.”
“Then they should start now.” I turned to leave.
“Wait.” Ricci looked around at the crew. “We have to go help. Right?”
I gripped the edge of the hatch. The electrostatic membrane licked at my fingertips.
“Yeah, I want to go,” Bouche said. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t, Doc.”
“I want to go,” said Treasure.
“Me too,” Chara chimed in. Eddy and Eleanora both nodded.
Vula pulled down her goggles and launched herself out of the netting. “Whales fucking? What are we waiting for? I’ll start fabbing some media drones.”
With all seven of them eager for adventure, our quiet, comfortable little world didn’t stand a chance.
We’re not the only humans on the surface. Not quite. Near the south pole a gang of religious hermits live in a deep ice cave, making alcohol the old way using yeast-based fermentation. It’s no better than the extruded version, but some of the habs take pity on them so the hermits can fund their power and feedstock.
Every so often one of the hermits gives up and calls for evac. When that happens, the bored crew of a cargo ship zips down to rescue them. Those same ships bring us supplies and new crew. They also shuttle adventurers and researchers around the planet, but mostly they sit idle, tethered halfway up the beanstalk.
The ships are beautiful—sleek, fast, and elegant. As for us, when we need to change our position, it’s not quite so efficient. Or fast.
When Ricci found me in the rumpus room, I’d already fabbed my gloves and face mask, and I was watching the last few centimeters of a thick pair of protective coveralls chug through the output.
“I told the other crews you’d be happy to take a look at the regenerated tissue and recommend a solution, but they refused,” she said. “They don’t like you, do they?”
I yanked the coveralls out of the extruder.
“No, and I don’t like them either.” I stalked to the hatch.
“Can I tag along, Doc?” she asked.
“You’re lucky I don’t pack you into a bodybag and tag you for evac.”
“I’m really sorry, Doc. I should have asked you before offering your help. When I get an idea in my head, I tend to just run with it.”
She was all smiles and dimples, with her goggles on her forehead pushing her hair up in spikes and her breather swinging around her neck. A person who looks like that can get away with anything.
“This is your idea,” I said. “Only fair you get your hands dirty.”
I fabbed her a set of protective clothing and we helped each other suit up. We took a quick detour to slather appetite suppressant gel on the appropriate hormonal bundle, and then waddled up the long dorsal sinus, arms out for balance. The sinus walls clicked and the long cavity bent around us, but soon the appetite suppressant took hold and we were nearly stationary, dozing gently in the clouds.
On either side towered the main float bladders—clear multi-chambered organs rippling with rainbows across their honeycomb-patterned surfaces. Feeder organs pulsed between the bladder walls. The feeders are dark pink at the base, but the color fades as they branch into sprawling networks of tubules reaching through the skin, grasping hydrogen and channeling it into the bladders.
At the head of the dorsal sinus, a tall, slot-shaped orifice provides access to the neuronal cavity. I shrugged my equipment bag off my shoulder, showed Ricci how to secure her face mask over her breather, and climbed in.
With the masks on, to talk we had to ping each other. I was still a bit angry so no chitchat, business only. I handed her the laser scalpel.
Cut right here. I sliced the blade of my gloved hand vertically down the milky surface of the protective tissue. See these scars? I pointed at the gray metallic stripes on either side of the imaginary line I’d drawn. Stay away from them. Just cut straight in between.