Within the hour, he learned it looked like paradise, too. As the Banshee descended below the clouds of New Atlantia, he rested a knee on the copilot’s seat and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the glass for a better view.
All around him, there was only blue—a blanket of strikingly vivid cerulean that glittered beneath the light of two suns. The sea paled to azure in the more shallow waters leading to the continent, and there stretched a thousand miles of green-covered farmland and pasture that seemed to ripple as the wind tossed its crops to and fro. Dozens of structures bordered the shoreline, resembling massive bubbles resting on the water. As the ship flew nearer, he could make out three steel pillars supporting each dome and a horizontal tram chute connecting one building to the next. A single dome stood out from the rest. Set farthest from the land, it was surrounded by an aquatic fence that extended several hundred yards in each direction.
“That’s the hatchery,” Renny said, slowing as he passed over a school of silvery fish visible beneath the water. “They breed imported tuna from Earth. Beyond the gate, it’s dead sea. Not so much as a shrimp lives out there.”
“Dead sea,” Kane echoed. Something about that turned him cold.
They continued to the merchant dome. Renny had scheduled their visit under the guise of picking up a shipment of dried fish, so he landed the Banshee on the adjoining docking pad and used the radio to check in with the warehouse foreman. The plan was for Renny and Arabelle to oversee the loading of the cargo while Kane and the crew found their way to the residential dome where the infected settlers were quarantined. By dividing and conquering, they hoped to make this a quick stop. Staying too long was risky without knowing Fleece’s whereabouts.
“All hands report to the cargo hold,” Renny said through the ship’s com, “dressed to blend and prepared to disembark. You have two hours to find out what’s making these people sick.”
Any illusions Kane had of New Atlantia as a resort planet died the moment he stepped inside the merchant dome. The fiberglass bubble offered more than a panoramic view; it also trapped the heat and stink of everything below it. Vendors, laborers, processed tuna—all baked in a rancid pie. The massive fans built into the ceiling were no match for two suns, and with a seafood packing plant so close, he felt like he was inhaling fish.
Which he was, really.
“What’s the matter?” Cassia asked. She flashed a grin that didn’t reach her eyes, which were bloodshot and puffy from crying. “You don’t like the smell of money?”
He ignored the twinge of guilt in his stomach and instead peered above heads and storefront banners for the tram chute that would carry them to the residential domes. He spotted a station sign at the opposite end of the enclosure and began leading the way. By the time he reached the platform, the front of his shirt was glued to his chest. He peeled the fabric away from his skin, but the ventilation didn’t help. It seemed sweating was a way of life here.
Doran used a sleeve to blot his forehead. “Maybe the tram is air-conditioned.”
“Yeah,” Solara said with a dry laugh. “And maybe the fish lay golden eggs.”
When Cassia caught up, she brought the scent of a floral garden with her. Kane indulged in a whiff. The perfume microbes in her sweat glands didn’t stop her from perspiring, but they kept her as fresh as a rose in June. The procedure had been excruciating. He still remembered how her parents had forced it on her when she’d turned eleven. Afterward, it had taken three days of his best jokes to make her smile again.
He shook the memory out of his head. He didn’t want to think about that toothy grin, or how his insides had done backflips when she’d given it to him. He glanced at the station map, a series of bubbles connected by red and blue lines. “Where are we going?”
“The third one,” she said, pointing. “It used to be the administration building, but the seals cracked last year and it flooded during a storm. It’s still under renovation, so they’re using it for quarantine.”
“Will they let us inside?” Solara asked.
“It’s all taken care of. I radioed the head nurse and told her why we’re here. We can study the patients as long as we wear protective gear.” Cassia gathered her hair in one hand and fanned the back of her neck, spreading her perfume through the air. “I told her it’s biological warfare, not a contagion, but she didn’t believe me. She said all the infected settlers came from the same apartment building.”
Kane found that last bit interesting. “Maybe this isn’t the same sickness.”
“Or maybe the victims are being targeted,” Cassia said. “The whole apartment complex was for hatchery workers, mostly young single guys who roomed together.”
“Huh.” Solara paused to blow down the front of her shirt. “Who would want to infect a bunch of bachelors?”
“A bunch of irritated bachelorettes?” Doran offered.