The Medusa Chronicles Read Free Page A

Ambassador to the World Council of the Independent Pan Nation, and another guest of President Jayasuriya.”
    Falcon tried not to stare. This was the first simp—superchimp—he’d seen since the crash of the QE IV . “I’m glad to meet you, sir.”
    â€œAnd I you, Commander.”
    â€œAre you enjoying the cruise?”
    â€œMissing home in Congo treetops, to tell truth . . .” The Ambassador spoke distorted but comprehensible English, evidently with some effort. One of his aides seemed to be an interpreter, relaying the speech to the others in pant-hoots and gestures. “Know you, of course. To us, Howard Falcon famous for more than Jupiter.”
    â€œThe crash of the Queen .”
    â€œMany simps died that day.”
    â€œAnd many human crew—”
    â€œSimps! Given slave names, like my own. Dressed like dolls. Made to work on cruise ship grander than this one, Boss .”
    Falcon was aware of Webster flinching at that word. “Well, now, Bittorn’s programme was well intended,” said the Administrator. “It was meant as a way to establish a bridge between cousin species—”
    Ham snorted. “Simps! So damn useful, clambering around space stations in zero G—climbing in airship rigging. And so funny-funny cute in little slave uniforms, serving drinks. Other animals too. Smart dogs. Smart horses . . . Smart enough to know humiliation and fear. All dead now . . .
    â€œThen, ship crashed. You barely survived. Millions spent saving you. Some simps survived, barely. They not saved. Millions not spent. Simps euthed .”
    Embleton stepped forward. “Ambassador, this is hardly the time or the place—”
    Ham ignored her. “But you, Commander Falcon. Records of crash. No cameras, but forensics, word of survivors. Some simps lasted long enough to tell story. The ship, doomed. You heading down , down to bridge, risk life to save ship, if you could. And you found frightened simp. You stopped, Commander. Stopped, calmed him, told him go, not down , down , but up , up to observation deck. Where he would have best chance. You said, ‘Boss—boss— go !’”
    Falcon looked away. “He died anyway.”
    â€œDid your best. His name, Baker 2079q. Eight years old. We remember, you see. All simps. Remember them, every one. They were people. Better times now.” He surprised Falcon by reaching up with one hand. Falcon had to lower his upper body to take it. “You come visit Independent Pan Nation.”
    â€œI’d like that very much,” Falcon said.
    â€œClimb trees?”
    â€œI’m always up for a challenge.”
    Embleton smiled. “Not until you’ve tried ice skating, Commander—”
    But a voice cut across her words: “Whale ahoy! Starboard side!”
    Falcon turned with the rest.
    *  *  *  *
    The whales were heading north.
    Looking out over this grey ocean, under a grey sky, the great bodies looked like an armada, a fleet of ships, not like anything living at all. Of course they were dwarfed by the tremendous length of the carrier, but there was a power and purpose about them that no machine of mankind could ever match: a fitness for purpose in this environment.
    Now one tremendous head lifted out of the water not thirty, forty metres from the flank of the Shore , misshapen to Falcon’s untutored gaze, and battered. Pocked and scarred like the surface of some asteroid. But a vast mouth opened, a cave from whose roof dangled the baleen plates that filtered this beast’s diet of plankton from the upper levels of the sea, a thin gruel to power such a tremendous body. And then an eye opened, huge but startlingly human.
    As he looked into that eye, Falcon felt a jolt of recognition.
    He had travelled to Jupiter, where, in layers of cloud where conditions were temperate, almost Earthlike, he had encountered another tremendous