Yes, it should have been. A horrible trickle of thought wormed its way into her brain—so terrible, so hopeless that she wouldn’t even let her mind give it words. Picking out a random selection from both series of samples of something that looked vaguely like Terran desulfo vibritns, she said, very calmly, “Computer. I want a genetic blow-up and comparison on these two populations.”
For a gene spin, it took almost no time at all. Eleven minutes. Maybe twelve. When the spin finally popped up to supersede the population statistics on the testing station’s screen, it proved a wonderfully complex weave of structure and purpose for such a tiny, straightforward organism. Rahel walked quickly through the ladders of their chromosomes, not even taking time to marvel at their design. Her stomach tightened and her mouth grew sour with each inconsistency that passed beneath her hands.
“These bacteria aren’t related,” she finally admitted.
Nils shook his head at her, then at the genetic display. “At all?”
“Not for a couple billion generations.” Rahel wanted to look at him, wanted to make sure Jynn understood what they were talking about here. But she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the screen, with its damning statistics and mismatching bacteria. “Nils, I was wrong. The Odarkan bottom water can’t be coming from the margin sloughs.”
Nils sighed with the frustration of a man already left several steps behind in the conversation. “Then where is it coming from?”
Rahel turned her chair to face him, including Jynn by the sheer fact of his proximity. “Remember when I said someday I’d explain anoxic organic decomposition to you?” she asked the lawyer. When Nils only nodded, she waved him toward the floor. “Sit down.”
They didn’t start back to the Startide Hotel until dusk. By then, Rahel had guided Jynn all over the landlocked Odarkan before having him skim the pachyderm to a dozen different locations across Uriel’s ocean surface. It had been a long and silent day. They ran out of sample flasks while there were still places Rahel wanted to visit, Nils gave up trying to separate slides when they ran out of table space to stack them, and Rahel’s limbs felt weak and rubbery from too many hours underwater. She let Jynn turn back for lack of anything more productive to do. At least they had data enough to support whatever report Noah’s Ark finally decided to deliver, not to mention enough methano-genic bacteria to open a sizable zoo.
Jynn left them at the foot of the Startide’s great front steps. “I don’t want to take you up to the roof while I park this, ma’am. You understand.”
To a certain extent, she did. Another part of her would rather have courted the bends than have to trudge up a two-hundred-meter flight of stairs dogged by every breed of reporter known to man. She groaned and stepped awkwardly down from the pachyderm’s hatch, obscurely glad when Nils hopped out beside her. Maybe he could distract the godless hordes with legalspeak while she made a slow-motion getaway.
“Proctor Tovin, the Green has officially announced its intention to take legal action against Noah’s Ark. Do you have any comments in your—?”
“Are there any new findings today regarding allegations that Mr. Sadena—?”
“Proctor Tovin, on whose authority—•?”
“Have you heard anything about Paval?”
That last came with a hard grip on her elbow and the sudden heat of a body very close by. Rahel wheeled, jerking her arm back with a snarl, but stopped herself just before letting the hateful words boil over. Keim pulled her hand to her side as though only just realizing how intrusive she’d been.
“I just wanted you to know—I’m really sorry about what happened.” Somehow, the respectful intimacy of Keim’s voice carried over the tumult more clearly than simple shouting. “What they did has nothing to do with conservation or love of nature, and you and I both know it. I hate that they’re a part of what I stand for.”
Rahel sighed and ran a hand through salt-encrusted hair. Five steps below her, Nils was insisting on courtesy before he’d acknowledge any netlink questions. “I’ll give you a scoop.” She was impressed when Keim didn’t dive immediately for her notebook. “What happened to Paval—your Greens didn’t do it.”
The reporter’s eyes widened, and one hand splayed wide as though longing to type. “You’re sure of this?”
Rahel nodded. It seemed only fair to give GreeNet first shot at the story, since they were suing her and all. It was the closest she could come to an apology. “You’ll hear the details when I know them. But tell your bosses I was wrong.”
That was a phrase she expected to repeat often over the next few days.
The Startide’s lobby somehow looked even larger and more empty than on the day they arrived. Rahel shivered a little when a bellhop finally sealed the door behind her and Nils, and let silence clap shut around them like a vacuum. Here they were, she realized, encased inside a replica of nature that had no idea of the full power of what it tried to represent. Caught between the destructive nature of the mild, patient ocean outside and the conspicuous hubris on display in here, Rahel’s concerns suddenly felt very ridiculous and small.
“Don’t look now.”
She looked where Nils pointed, then couldn’t even reach out to take the note when Huan glided to a stop in front of them with waldo outstretched. “The guy’s good,” she allowed as Nils accepted the piece of paper and unfolded it into a square. She guessed what it said even before Nils scoffed with disgust and held it out for her.
Please do me the honor of stopping by my suite before you retire.
F.S.
Rahel took the note and crushed it between her palms.
“What are you going to tell him?” Nils asked.
She sighed and followed Huan when the Newborn pivoted to retrace its winding path across the lobby. “The truth.”
“Proctor Tovin, Proctor Oberjen. Thank you for coming by.” Feles Sadena smiled politely, lacing long cinnamon fingers over one knee and sitting back in his tastefully polished coral chair as though pleased with himself for having greeted them so well. Behind him, Jynn stood with hands behind his back, dark eyes slightly averted. “I know you must be tired after such a long day in the sun.” Without any overt signal from Sadena, a service drone glided in with a tray of steaming beverages.
Rahel neither smiled nor glanced at the waiting coffee. “Do you know anything new about Paval?”
“Yes…” Sadena pursed thin lips in gracious concern, reaching for one of the tiny cups. “Yes, of course. Mr. Kuvasc is doing extremely well.” It was apparently already brewed and sweetened to his tastes—he took a sip without waiting for the contents to cool. “He’s been asking for you.”
Rahel’s stomach squeezed with unexpected guilt, only to burn a moment later when anger flashed up to replace it. “I was finishing our work. Mr. Kuvasc understands.” And damn Sadena for trying to unbalance her with such a heartless ploy.
“Speaking of your work…” Sadena siphoned off another decorous sip. “I’m told you’ve located the cause of all my jellyfish problems.”
Rahel flicked a look at Jynn over Sadena’s shoulder, but the pilot dropped his gaze without meeting her eyes. “If your man told you about the problem,” she said, not caring that her tone made Jynn flinch as though she’d pricked him, “then maybe he also told you there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
Sadena replaced his cup on the tray, managing to glance back at Jynn and disregard him with a single gesture. “Proctor Tovin, Jynn is merely an informant. If he didn’t believe in impossibility, he might have some more meaningful job. I, on the other hand, am a man with a great deal of money. I have found that, in the main, impossibility is highly overrated.” He sat back again in his chair and fixed her with unfeeling eyes the color of iron. “I would like you to tell me yourself how you see the situation.”