algae blooms and some small areas of water weed re-establishing. If things continue at the present rate, we may be able to start restocking that lake at least within five years.’ Gene paused, her expression turning bitter. ‘The Scour seems to have spared at least some of them.’
‘I don’t think that’s somewhere we want to go, do you?’ Serene berated her, suppressing her own delight. Now, if only she could find some excuse to start demolishing the surrounding sprawl, natural landscape could be exposed, trees planted . . .
‘I’m sorry,’ said Gene. She gazed out of the screen speculatively. ‘I’m a little distracted . . . I’ve been asking for reassignment.’
Why did she think Serene needed to know this?
‘Really?’
‘I want to go offworld and help with our projects out there, help to bring Alan Saul back . . .’
‘I understand,’ said Serene. ‘Everybody wants vengeance and everyone who has lost someone wants to be involved. However, you must remember that you
‘But—’
‘No buts,’ Serene interrupted, her voice hardening. ‘Consider yourself lucky to be alive and in a position to help, and try to remain alive in order to do so.’ Serene swiftly cut the link.
‘Ma’am.’
The channel was assigned Priority One through her fone, so he’d better have a damned good reason for contacting her through it.
‘What is it, Clay?’
‘We’ve got communications from Argus Station, and I felt you needed to know about this at once.’
‘Alan Saul?’
‘No, it seems there’s a small undercover squad, one of Messina’s, still free on the station. They’ve managed to turn a dish towards us and get in contact. Apparently they made an assassination attempt on Alan Saul, and he may well be dead, but now they’re in hiding.’
Serene experienced a sudden surge of disappointment, followed briefly by anger. It annoyed her that Saul might have been killed by some means other than as a result of her own orders.
‘What do they want?’ she snapped.
‘Data. They lost a lot of data and equipment recently. They want station schematics and access to a tactical planning team.’
‘To what purpose?’
‘They want to rescue Alessandro Messina, who is apparently still alive.’
‘And they think I would like to help them? I hope you didn’t laugh out loud.’
‘Certainly not, ma’am – they’re a good source of data, and are giving us some gold on the current situation aboard the station. That structural work we observed in the recent Hubble pictures is them enclosing the station disc.’
‘I need to talk to them,’ Serene decided.
‘You can, but there’s a com delay of thirty seconds and their situation, as regards their oxygen supply, is critical.’
‘Okay, give them station schematics and limited tactical planning – just enough for them to resupply themselves. Then I’ll speak to them.’
‘Will do, ma’am.’ He closed the channel.
Serene sat back in her chair, her elbows on its arms and her fingers interlaced under her chin. The
7
Leaner Society