There was a sentiency here which touched her where cell walls left off, somewhere within that realm of creative imagination which Oakes distrusted and would never enter.

Almost eighty percent of this planet is wrapped in seas and we don’t even know what’s under there.

She found herself envying the researchers who had risked (and lost) their lives groping beneath these seas. What had they found?

A pair of huge boulders down on the beach beneath her smashed together with a jarring crack that caused her to jump. She glanced at the beach across the bay. As quickly as it crossed the high-tide mark, the waters began their ebb.

Curious.

Tons of boulders had been rolled up against the cliff barrier across the compound. More of them obviously must be on the beach beneath her. The boulders she could see were gigantic.

That much power in the waves.

“Legata . . .”

The abruptness of Oakes’ voice and touch upon her shoulder startled her, and she crushed the glass in her hand. She stared down at the hand, the cuts, her own blood, shards of glass glinting in her flesh.

“Sit over here, my dear.”

He was the doctor then, and she felt thankful for it. He plucked out broken glass, then unrolled strips of Celltape from a dispenser at his com-console to stop the bleeding. His hands were firm and gentle as he worked. He patted her shoulder when he had finished.

“There. You should . . .”

The buzz of the console interrupted.

“Colony’s gone.” It was Lewis.

“What do you mean, gone?” Oakes raged. “How can the entire . . .”

“A shuttle overflight shows nothing but a hole where Lab One was. Plenty of demons, hatchways to all lower levels blown . . .” He shrugged, a tiny gesture in the console screen.

“That’s . . . that’s thousands of people. All . . . dead?”

Legata could not face Lewis, even on the screen. She crossed to the divan silently and stared out the plaz.

“There could be survivors holed up behind some of the hatches,” Lewis went on. “That’s how we made it here when . . .”

“I know how you made it here!” Oakes shouted. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything.”

Oakes gritted his teeth and pounded the console. “You don’t think we should have Murdoch try to save anyone?”

“Why risk the shuttles? Why risk one of our last good people?”

“Of course. A hole, you say?”

“Nothing but rubble. Looks to’ve been the work of lasguns and plasteel cutters.”

“Do they . . . I mean, are there any shuttles left over there?”

“We disabled everything before leaving.”

“Yes . . . yes, of course,” Oakes murmured. Then: “LTAs?”

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t you and Murdoch say that you cleared everything out of that Lab One site? Moved it all here?”

“Apparently the rioters thought there might be some burst hidden away there. They captured the only remaining communications equipment. They were demanding help from . . . the ship.”

“They didn’t . . .”Oakes could not complete the question.