The columns were arranged in a precise pattern, forming a complex maze. Using their keen sonar as well as firsthand memory, and with Aili clinging to Eres’s back, the squales navigated the maze, finding the spaces wide enough to admit them but taking care to avoid the deceptively clear-looking paths which would lead to dead ends. Aili realized that a maze made of broomsticks was far more treacherous than one made of walls; at least in the latter there was no ambiguity about what was an opening and what was not. But here, openings abounded, and the constantly shifting parallax made it devilishly difficult to tell which ones were really the clearest. As the pod wound through the perimeter, they passed a few small animals that struck Aili as being quite at the end of their ropes.
Aili wondered how they got larger organisms into this facility if need be. But before she could ask, they cleared the maze into a zone of clear, still water, shielded from wave action by the surrounding lattice. At the heart of the clear zone, she saw what it was that the squales were protecting so carefully.
The core mass of the organism, floating in the center of the lattice, was easily the size of Earth’s largest extinct whales. From that mass extruded over two dozen stems, or trunks, or limbs, each of which led to a bluish oval pod. Some of the pods were irised open at one end like the petals of a flower. They came in various sizes; the smallest, of which there were several, were about a meter long, while the largest one could accommodate a small humpback whale. The majority of the pods seemed to be just right for the squales, though. The stems were complex, with numerous veins of various sizes and tints weaving among each other.
The core mass itself pulsed with life. Its structure was startlingly complex, a mélange of colors, textures, and contours, seeming as dazzlingly sophisticated in an organic way as Titan’s control consoles. Multiple valves pulsed and peristalted, taking in water, expelling bubbles of gas; while at least one orifice was hungrily sucking in a supply of food being shoveled like coal by a small, dextrous helper species. It made sense that the organism would need a rich and steady fuel supply. It certainly seemed busy enough, pulsing and throbbing and exhaling vapors unknown.
But most of all, it was singing. And its squale tenders sang back to it. It was an interspecies chorus, liturgy and antiphon, builder and tool conversing in a common tongue. Rich, complex chords, elaborate phrases recurring, being repeated back and forth, sometimes changing from one statement to the next. The mathematical perfection of Bach or T’Lenye meeting the improvisational energy of Riker’s beloved jazz musicians.
Aili took some time to make sense of what she’d seen, seasoning her analysis with the occasional answer from the squales. It was a machine, she reasoned. It took in a living sample and analyzed its genome, probably using enzymes like those that zipped, unzipped, and assembled nucleic acids. Somehow, that information was converted into sound, a melody with the notes A, C, G, and T, the four component bases of the genetic code. What the lifesmiths sang back were instructions, modifications to the genes and protein structures; those changes were probably made through the action of further enzymes. This could be used for healing, and indeed many of the attached oval pods held squales who were being treated for injuries inflicted by the other frenzied species of this world. Eres led her to one pod and sang a tone that caused it to iris open partway, far enough for her to see a squale inside. After a moment, she recognized it as Grabby, the defender squale who had lost a tentacle days before. Now that tentacle was almost fully regrown!
Aili remembered the perception of a womblike environment that both she and Riker had experienced after the asteroid strike, and realized that they must have been placed in these “lifepods” (as she mentally dubbed them) for treatment of their injuries. But as Grabby’s rapid regeneration showed, the lifepods were capable of far more than that. Eres confirmed this, singing that the lifepods could also be used to make more fundamental changes, transforming creatures at the cellular or even genetic level.
Now she understood what the lifesmiths were proposing. Using this remarkable technology, they could modify Aili’s and Riker’s biochemistry to be compatible with Dropletian life, able to survive with fewer minerals in their diet. Even if Titannever found them, they would be able to live out their lives here on this world.
But there was a danger, as Eres explained. A transformation this drastic would alter their bodies on the cellular level. This would include the neurons in their brains. Their memories would be affected as a result—not so much lost as blurred. They would still retain their identities and knowledge, but certain details of their former life would be hazier, as if more distant in time.
But if they underwent the change a second time, Eres warned, the effect on their memories would be exacerbated. They would lose too much memory of their past, their identities. If Aili and Riker underwent this change, they could never go back.
Aili knew that Riker would never accept that. His conviction that he would be reunited with his wife and child was unwavering. And in the wake of their recent argument, given what he thought about her intentions toward him, he would not be receptive to the suggestion coming from her.
But what about me?She found the lifesmiths’ proposal did not instill fright or despair in her. On the contrary, she felt more at home here on Droplet than she ever had anywhere else. And she couldn’t share Riker’s certainty that there would be any rescue from Titan. For that mat ter, after her fight with the captain, she wasn’t sure how welcome she would be aboard Titan—or how willing she would be to continue serving under a commander who didn’t respect her.
Or was it really her own lack of self-respect she was feeling? The argument had dredged up memories she wasn’t proud of. Maybe losing some of those memories wouldn’t be so bad,she thought. It would be like…being reborn. Starting over with a clean slate.
Maybe the song of my life is out of tune,she reflected. And not just biologically. Maybe getting “transposed” is just what I need.