There was still no sign of Kuwale. I moved away from the loading bay and wandered closer to the water’s edge. Biochemical signals diffusing out from the rock kept the harbor free of coral, and plankton transported sediment to the reefs where it was needed; the water here looked bottomless, deep blue-green. Amidst the froth of the gently breaking swell, I thought I could discern an unnatural effervescence; bubbles were rising up, everywhere. The outgassing from the pressurized rock, which I’d seen – second hand – on the underside of Stateless, was escaping here to the surface.

Out on the harbor, farmers were winching aboard what might have been a fishing net bursting with produce. Gelatinous tendrils embracing the bounty glistened in the sun. One worker stretched up and touched the top of the “net” with something on the end of a long pole, and the contents abruptly spilt onto the deck, leaving the slack tendrils quivering; within seconds, when the last scraps had fallen, the translucent creature was almost invisible. I had to strain my eyes to follow it, as they lowered it back into the ocean.

Kuwale said, “Do you know what non-renegades pay Ocean Logic for a harvester like that? All its genes were taken straight from existing species – all the company ever did was patent them, and rearrange them.”

I turned. “Spare me the propaganda. I’m on your side – if you’ll give me some straight answers.”

Kuwale looked troubled, but said nothing. I spread my arms in a gesture of frustration. “What do I have to do to convince you to trust me – as much as you trusted Sarah Knight? Do I have to die for the cause first?”

“I’m sorry you were infected. The wild type’s bad enough; I know, I’ve had it.” Ve was wearing the same black T-shirt I’d seen ver in at the airport, flickering with random points of brightness. It suddenly struck me again just how young ve was: little more than half my age – and in at the deep end.

I said, begrudgingly, “That wasn’t your fault. And I’m grateful for what you did.” Even if saving my life wasn’t the point.

Kuwale looked distinctly uncomfortable, as if I’d just showered ver with undeserved praise. I hesitated. “It wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“Not directly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? The weapon was yours?”

“No!” Ve looked away, and said bitterly, “But I still have to take some responsibility for everything they do.”

“ Why? Because they’re not working for the biotech companies? Because they’re technolibérateurs , like you?” Ve wouldn’t meet my eyes; I felt a small surge of triumph. I’d finally got something right.

Kuwale replied impatiently, “Of course they’re technolibérateurs .” As if to say: isn’t everyone? “But that’s not why they’re trying to kill Mosala.”