Before leaving, she had gone to the freezer to check on the Vishnu sample. It had not grown since her last viewing. In fact, it looked dull brown and mushy, like a rotten apple.
“What the hell?” she had said. “Gods aren’t supposed to die.”
“Same thing that happened before,” Merritt said. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Done deal, then,” Merritt said, glancing at her sideways. “What a shame.”
“We have to get some more.”
Merritt looked up. “What?”
“I’ll dive again.”
“Is that a good idea? Not feeling well? And after what happened last time?”
Don’t dive sick: it was one of the first contraindications beginners learned. But that was under normal circumstances. Hallie waved Merritt’s concern off.
“I’ve done worse. And this is too important. I’ll use one of the station’s dry suits, and we will leak-test the hell out of it first. Do you think we could get Guillotte down to the dive shed at around four?”
“You’re sure about this?”
“This thing could have unimaginable potential. You know what Emily and Fida learned. There’s nothing more we can do with the bacterial cultures right now.”
“You’re right. Okay, go do what you need to — eat, drink, rest, whatever. I’ll collect Guillotte, and we’ll meet you in the shed at four.”
“I’ll be there.” Hallie could see that Merritt assumed they were through. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Merritt’s eyes narrowed. Hallie could hear her thinking, What now?
“It’s about Maynard Blaine.”
“Did that peabrain hit on you again?”
“No. But I made him tell me about Triage.”
Funny, Hallie thought. She looks like Blaine did when I told him. Merritt’s shock quickly changed to confusion. “About what?”
She recounted what she had learned from Blaine. “Did you know anything about this secret research he claimed to be doing?”
“Nothing.” Merritt was rubbing her hands as if trying to get something sticky off them. “NSF should never have done that without telling me. Damn them. Damn him. Blaine lied to my face.”
“Seems to have a knack. He lied to me, too,” Hallie said. “And probably to Emily.”
Merritt looked disgusted. “The bastard. I’ll try to sort this out. Maybe we’ll get comms back up. You can rest a bit. Sound good?”
“The rest part does,” Hallie said. “But there’s one more thing you need to know.”
49
“Leland took biosamples from the bodies in the morgue. She’s culturing them in her lab now.”
Merritt had called the others to her office. Guillotte had not come yet, but Blaine and Doc were there.
“Oh God,” Doc said. “It feels like things are coming apart.”
“It feels like you’re coming apart,” Blaine said.
“If she gets viable colonies, and figures out what it is, we’re finished.” Doc put his face in his hands.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Merritt said. “She knows that Durant was killed.”
“What?” the other two screeched in unison. “How could she know that?”
Merritt explained about the surveillance camera.
“God damn,” Blaine said. “Why would she have put a camera there?”
Merritt frowned at such a stupid question. “Simple. She felt afraid. Wanted to know if anybody came into her room while she wasn’t there.” Merritt looked directly at Blaine. “Thanks to you.”
“You fucking idiot,” Doc blurted. “This is all your fault.”
“It is very important to keep calm,” Merritt said.
“You didn’t put Triage in those women.” Doc’s chin was quivering.
“I am not going to sneak back into that lab again,” Blaine said. “They might have put a camera in there, too. Maybe Guillotte will do it, but I won’t.”
“I said to relax. You won’t have to.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s going to dive again.”
“Why would she do that?” Blaine asked. The answer dawned on him before Merritt replied. “That’s why you wanted me to kill the extremophile.”
“Insurance,” Merritt said. “Just in case.”
“What did you do?” Doc asked.
Blaine explained about the chlorine.
“It worked,” Merritt said. “She insisted on diving. I didn’t even have to bring it up.”
“Her last dive?” Blaine said.
“If Guillotte and I have anything to say about it.” Merritt nodded.
Doc frowned. “I’m not sure I like the diving accident. They could—”
“It’s perfect. Diving accidents happen all the time,” Merritt said. “And in a place like this …”
“That freezing, hypersaline water will preserve her body better than embalming. They’ll find—”
“Do you know how deep that thing is? Thousands of feet. They won’t find anything.”
“She works for an agency of the U.S. government,” Doc said. “There will be an investigation and—”
Merritt cut him off: “There is always an investigation. They never care what actually happened. It’s about covering asses. Making sure it was somebody else’s fault. This is government we’re talking about.”
“But are we really sure this is the best course? With three recent—”
“Even better. We write the accident report. Everybody was sick. Maybe it got her while she was underwater. She was tired and disoriented. I counseled against diving. She insisted. All we know is that she never resurfaced.”
“Where is Guillotte?” Blaine asked.
“I told him to be here,” Merritt said. “You know how he is.”
“Did you talk to Gerrin?” Doc asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he say? About Triage, I mean?”
“They don’t think Triage had anything to do with the women’s deaths. We’re to go ahead as planned. So really, it’s finished. As soon as we get a weather window, those women fly out.”
“And the rest is history,” Blaine said.
“Amen,” Merritt said.
50
The mouth of the entrance shaft was a round hole in the ice four feet in diameter. As Blaine had told her, it was hidden behind a maintenance shed a quarter mile from the station.
Under the plywood cover, a six-by-six wooden post lay across the top of the hole, its ends resting in slots cut into the ice. Bolted to the six-by-six was a cable ladder with round metal rungs that dropped into darkness. Cavers and climbers had used similar ladders in the old days, before rappelling and vertical gear changed everything. Like those, the rungs on this ladder were only a foot wide. And slick.
She glanced at the parka thermometer: seventy degrees below zero. There were no southern lights just now, only stars pitting the black sky. The cold was already seeping through her clothing, sneaking past thin spots of insulation. Tiny exposed places on her face burned. Fire and ice, she thought. At some point, they feel the same.
She started down. It had been some time since she’d used a ladder like this. The metal rungs were icy, and she’d never had to descend one wearing seven layers of clothing. Worst of all were the huge bunny boots. The rungs were so narrow that she could place only the toes on them, which meant that she had to keep her calf muscles tensed to prevent her feet from slipping off. By the time she reached the bottom, both legs were jigging up and down in the spasms climbers called “sewing machine legs.”