Flipping through the forty-page report, Juan paused when he reached the microbiological analysis. “So, this stuff is also teeming with bacteria.”

“Yep. And if you skip to page thirty-five, there’s also a bunch of rather tiny spores. We’re still processing those, but they look like the same spores we found in the water sample you sent. Not sure what those are, but they’re about four hundred nanometers in diameter and have odd filaments coming off the protein coat.”

Juan looked at the micrograph pictured in the report. “That’s… that’s a capsid,” he exclaimed. “What the hell is in it? Maybe a virion? If so, coded to do what?”

With a confused expression, the lab tech asked, “Sorry, Dr. Gutierrez, but virion? Capsid?”

“Sorry. A capsid is just a protein shell that’s created within the life cycle of a virus, and a virion is basically a complete virus with a protein shell around it. We use these in genetic research, because it’s a convenient way to introduce genetic material. Basically, if we have a virus that we eventually want to have merge with certain targeted cells through a lysogenic process, we take that virus and induce capsid self-assembly such that it’s surrounded by a protective protein shell. It can then be placed in water so that test subjects will drink what in essence are spores, and then the acid in the stomach helps activate the viral agent, which will seek out its target and merge its DNA into the host cell. That’s all there is to it. Pretty simple in concept.”

The lab tech snorted. “If you say so.”

Juan tapped on the report. “Can some of your guys process these virions and give me a breakdown of what the DNA payload is?”

Hendrickson nodded. “Yes, but we’ll probably need a few days to figure out how to process that. It’s not the kind of thing we do on a day-to-day basis, if you know what I mean.”

“Understood.” Juan’s mind drifted to the biocontainment lab where he kept samples from the water dispenser and the sludge. “Hey, even though the micrographs look identical, please run separate tests on the virions from both the sludge and the water. I want to know if they’re actually the same.”

The tech gathered up his papers and as he walked toward the exit, Hendrickson said, “Day after tomorrow. I’ll get the results then.”

The stool made an annoying squeak as Juan turned so that he was facing the biocontainment lab. He hated suiting up and despised the cleanup process on the way back out. With a deep sigh, he stood, walked to where his pressure suit was stored and tried to psyche himself up.

“The mice are probably not going to go anywhere near that stinking glop. So let’s try out the water and play a little genetic roulette.”