“We weren’t prepared,” Vik said just loudly enough to be heard over the cabin noise. Her tears had stopped. Her eyes were puffy, gaze fixed on something an eternity away.

“No one was.” Kalico gave a faint shake of the head. “And did you see? When we lifted off? The moment we were clear of the landing pad, those floating cone things went drifting in. Dropped their tentacles into the algae.”

Lawrence nodded. “I saw. The water was roiling. And just out from the Pod, the seaskimmers were coming in.” A pause. “Seeing that, something Felix said suddenly made sense. The slime wanted the Pod for protection. A place where it could accumulate, and nothing could eat it. From now on, inside the Pod, it will be protected.” She shook her head. “Can you believe it’s afraid? That those floating cones eat it?”

“Glad something does.”

Lawrence gave her that half-dead look. “Welcome to Donovan.”

95

After the bright morning light, Dek had to blink as he stepped into the hospital hallway. Another of the light panels had burned out. Obviously one that Raya didn’t have a replacement for. Either that or Sheyela Smith hadn’t had time to cobble together a jury-rig fit for a different kind of light. He was still getting used to the way his eyes didn’t adapt, but simply shifted to the infrared range.

“Better, yes?” That was the Rocket voice.

“We’ll see,” Dek told the quetzal. “Nothing comes free.”

He passed the old nurse’s office, then Dya’s, both dark since the former occupants were dead. That was the thing about Donovan. Like his visit today. People didn’t always come to Donovan to find themselves or leave. Many came to die.

He strode down the long hallway, found Raya Turnienko’s office with a note on the door that stated: IN THE LAB.

Dek made his way down past the patients’ rooms and found the lab door open. There, bent over the autopsy table, Raya, Vik Lawrence, and Shanteel Jones were crowded around Felix’s body.

Dek knocked lightly at the door, and as they turned, said, “Raya? You wanted to see me?”

The tall Siberian looked up, her face distorted by a magnifying lens and mask. She wore a smock, gloves, and held wicked-looking stainless-steel dissecting tools in her gloved hands. So did the others. All were wearing biohazard suits beneath their aprons.

“I did. Thanks, Dek. Could you give me a minute?”

“Sure.” Dek stepped into the room, stared down at the body on the table. Granted, he’d been the one to wrap the boy’s body in a tarp and carry it up to the airplane. It still upset him. More so now that it was cut open in a classic Y incision.

“Hard to believe that’s Felix,” he said softly.