8
“It's just like the research facility on Sydney,” Janine said, looking around in wonder.
Outside dusty glasma panes swam a school of bass—or what looked morphologically as close to bass as an alien ecobiology might produce. Beyond the school stood a forest of seaweed stalks, their leafy tentacles fluttering slowly in the gentle ocean currents. A school of smelt appeared to be feeding upon one beleaguered stalk, and beside that another stalk appeared to be under frantic siege by a school of minnow, the turbulence they created obscuring what they were doing.
Delighted, Janine glanced at Randall. “This place has everything we need to find out about the seaweed.”
He smiled and shone his handheld light around. “Except for power.”
The only natural light was what filtered down through the
