After fifteen more minutes of this, the miasma alarms cease and it is safe once again for people to walk through the Garden of Chiron. Once the bulk of the crowd has filed out, I ask Marina, “What do you think, was that a drill?”
Still a little frazzled, she lets out a long breath. “I think it was real.”
It seemed to me like the miasma moved through rather quickly, all things considered. But Marina reminds me about the wind turbines, pointing out, “Even if they can’t blow the miasma entirely away, they do help it move faster.”
“Ah, okay, okay, that makes sense,” I say, satisfied with the explanations.
“And I know the person who demanded to get out, Dr. Yerin Gupta. I worked in her lab once. I don’t think she would have used a shot if it was just a drill.”
“Oh, she’d know it was a drill?” Cleve asks.
“If anyone would know, she would,” Marina says. I’m surprised that someone would use up such a resource for just, say, fifteen minutes of danger. “She didn’t know how long it would be,” Marina points out. “And, um, if you think an army is coming, then I guess time is of the essence,” she adds in a more subdued fashion, embarrassed about letting that slip.
Cleve asks, “Is she out there hallucinating then?”
“I don’t know. If it’s the original formulation, then yes.”
“But you’ve been away for several months, and there could have been advancements,” I note. “Is she the one who developed the miasma blocker shots?”
“Yes,” Marina confirms. She continues more quietly, “Among other miasma treatments.”
“Okay,” I say brightly. This seems like a good person for Data Haven to get to know.
Marina finds something about my positive attitude alarming. “She might be someone to talk to, but I might be wary…” she cautions.
Cleve snorts. “‘Cause she’s a donkey. ‘I’m going to go outside in miasma!’ Who does that?”
“She’s, um, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to address miasma and related concerns,” Marina says, again with that warning tone. I press my lips together and shake my head in annoyance. “But she’s not a Morganite, okay?” Marina hastily adds. Seeing that doesn’t change my expression, she asks plaintively, “What?”
“You always say you’re willing to do whatever it takes also,” I remind her. “I’m not sure how to interpret it when you say that somebody else is willing to do whatever it takes, as if that’s a cause for concern. Are you saying she’s willing to take unnecessary risks?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
“What do you mean, a Morganite?” Cleve interjects.
“Just someone from Morgan Industries,” Marina explains. “Like, I’m sure she wants to stop that as much as anyone else.”
“And the first step to that is going off to her lab without any more information? She must have had another project,” he surmises.
Marina shrugs. “Maybe she was showing off the effectiveness of her treatments. We do know that preventative is much better than after the fact. She’s gotten pretty good at preventative.”
“Well, it still would be useful for us to talk with her. I mean, miasma treatments are a thing that Data Haven could use,” I point out.
“Oh, diplomacy, right. That’s why we’re here,” Cleve says, nodding. People can be jerks or fools, but if they have useful skills or information, it’s worth dealing with them.
“Well… so… I’m just letting you know that.” Marina lets out a breath, still uncomfortable with this topic. “Also, I kind of left her lab on not the best terms, so I probably don’t want to go there with you.”
“Did you quit to go take the ranger test?” I ask, trying to build up my mental timeline of Marina’s career.
“I kind of didn’t tell her I was taking the ranger test, and…” her voice drifts off.
“Did you accept the envoy job to get out of town?”
I’ve pushed too hard. Marina’s hand slips into her pocket and emerges with a stick of gum, but she stops herself from unwrapping it. “Yes, all right? I did. Okay?”
She clutches the gum in her hand, rattled—really rattled. I’m not sure why, and I certainly didn’t mean to upset her. I put a hand on her arm and gently tell her, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of that you worked somewhere that wasn’t the right fit for you.”
Marina lets out a long breath and rubs a hand over her face. “I’m just worried that I don’t do enough to protect us all on this planet.”
“‘Whatever it takes’ is a pretty high bar,” Cleve observes.
“This planet is a dangerous place, though,” Marina counters. “If I don’t do whatever it takes, will people die anyway?”
“Yeah, probably,” Cleve says, not one to pad a response.
“I mean, yes, it’s true: everyone is going to die eventually,” I agree. “And there are a lot of people you can’t help. But you have helped a lot of people.” I give her arm a reassuring squeeze and let it go.
“And I’m not done yet,” Marina says with resolve.
“No, you’re not. Shall we go upstairs?”