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Marina opens the door of the Mushroom Grove for Cleve, and the jaunty music of a Bollywood dance number leaks out into the street. A jukebox is set up in the corner with an old portable music device from Earth plugged into its speakers. There are quite a few people inside, some enjoying a late dinner that looks similar to what Marina served. Cleve recognizes a few faces, some from the crowd around the cult leader, others from the council building. Mariah isn’t among them.
Then something else relevant occurs to Cleve. “Neither of us have money,” he says.
Marina looks at him funny. “I do.”
“No, I meant me and Mariah. Although he could probably talk himself into a drink.”
“I can cover your drink, Cleve,” Marina tells him. She waves to Xiao across the room but guides Cleve over to the bar. “They do accept trade goods here, too,” she tells him, “if you want to peddle your chili powder. People might like that in a drink.”
“Good to know. But I should probably keep it handy to trade for supplies for Wolf Beetle Hollow. Oh, and we still need to deliver that letter to Stef’s sister Sam,” Cleve remembers, always thinking of ways to be useful to other people. “But Mariah has that.”
So they are once again back to finding him. When Marina places their drink order, she gives the bartender Mariah’s description. “Kind of tall, built, fellow with a cane.”
“He’s got a vest with a very distinctive shiny metal brooch,” Cleve adds. “You’d know if you saw him.”
“No, nobody like that has been in here,” the bartender says. “But I heard about a guy like that in town. Is he your friend?”
“Yes,” Marina says. “What did you hear? And who from? We’re looking for him.”
“Some of those cultists saw him earlier. They were all agog about him, gabbing away.”
“What were they saying?” Cleve prompts.
“That, oh, they just have to talk to him. That there must be something about that guy. That Sal’s taken a great interest in him. I don’t know what they were on about, but you know, their money is good, and they drink too, so they’re welcome here. Yeah, so they mentioned him. I also heard he went into the council offices, but if he’s some outsider, that makes sense. So if he’s your friend, where’s he from?”
“Data Haven,” Marina tells him. It’s not widely known about, but if anyone would have heard about it, a bartender would.
“Oh, right, there’s like a station with a small number of people out somewhere beyond the jungle. Right, right. It’s absolutely wild that people can live out there!”
Cleve turns to Marina. “So is this really the only place that he would be? This is the only happening place? Where do cultists hang out?”
“Well… at the Temple of Chiron, they call it. It’s one of the largest dead mushrooms near this landing site. They’ve hollowed it out.”
“I’m going to ask Bella if she can take a look,” Cleve says. He finishes his drink and leaves the empty glass there on the bar counter. Talking to a shimmerfly in the pub seems like it might be weird, so he heads outside.
Marina follows him, eager to see what this will entail. Mariah has talked with craws, but she hasn’t seen Cleve talk to animals. Sure, the shimmerfly has given him gifts, and he’s fed it, but he’s suggesting a whole other level of communication here. Maybe there’s something about the prolonged exposure to the planet, even with an intact cryopod, that has changed Cleve too. Marina has never run an analysis on his blood, as he never sought medical treatment from her back at Data Haven. She resolves to evaluate both sets of cryopod data more closely the next chance she gets. For now, she pulls out her notebook and jots down all her observations.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Cleve greets the waiting shimmerfly once the door to the bar has closed. “Have you seen Mariah?”
Bella floats gently in front of Cleve, leisurely flapping her wings. At the mention of Mariah, she flashes indigo, acknowledging that she knows who he’s talking about. Cleve turns to Marina, “We can look at that temple too, but let’s see if Bella can find him first.” When he looks back, Bella is gone.
Minutes go by, and just when Marina is about to ask how long this usually takes, Bella floats back into view. Clutched in her little legs is a mostly empty, uncapped vial. She deposits it in Cleve’s outstretched hand. There are faint traces of residue in the vial, but sniffing at it reveals nothing. It has a tidy label that reads, “Property of Gupta Labs,” and includes the formulation with a date, today, and a time, this afternoon.
“What!?” Marina says, snatching the vial from Cleve. When she reads the ingredients list, her face pales.
“Is there any way to get this outside the lab?” he asks.
“No, this was made in the lab today, and it’s an adaptation of a standard set of pheromones.”
“Why would he go visit her?” Cleve wonders aloud. Mariah had no direct contact with Dr. Gupta earlier that day. Is this about getting treatment for that craw at the lab? Surely that could’ve waited until after the meetings about Morgan’s army.
“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was the reverse. This sort of thing could knock him out or disable his muscle responses.” That’s what the pheromones do to the native Chiron creatures they’re normally designed for.
“You think she did something to him?” Cleve asks.
“I told you, she’ll do whatever it takes.”
“All right,” Cleve says, accepting Marina’s assessment. Not knowing what they’ll be up against, he asks, “Do I need my rifle?”
Marina knows what Yerin is capable of—but Marina herself is also willing to do whatever it takes to prevent another tragedy befalling someone she cares about in that lab. “Yes,” she answers unequivocally.
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