Read Online Migration by Julie E. Czerneda - Free Book Online Page B

glow dim, see them sink, watch him become . . .
    “No!”
    She leaped to her feet and went to her desk, gripping it with both hands. One hand and one substitute, Mac corrected herself, always aware of the difference, though she couldn’t feel one. Illogical . Both delivered the same sensory information. One simply used nonbiological circuitry.
    One wasn’t hers .
    No chance of more sleep, not with her body wringing wet with sweat and her heart jumping in sickening thuds within her chest. Mac unopaqued the wall and ceiling, hoping for dawn.
    Close . No stars, but the distant peaks snarled against a paling sky. Time to be up and moving, she assured herself. Not that she felt like either.
    A shower, short and cold, a fresh set of coveralls, and a barefoot prowl after coffee made the coming day seem slightly less impossible. Merely onerous. Before it had to really start, Mac took her steaming mug outside, finding a perch on the stairs leading up and around the wall of Pod Three where she could watch the rest of Base wake up.
    The muted, directionless light of predawn made mysteries of pods and walkways, turned them into pale-rimmed shadows curved one into the other. The walkways were still damp from yesterday’s rain, evaporative drying rarely a factor around here. Something a few new students hadn’t learned yet, Mac decided with amusement, eyeing a series of towels hanging heavy and soaked from the terrace of Pod Two. Probably wetter now than last night .
    The moisture played tricks with hearing, too. The lapping of ocean against pod and rocky shore was as intimate as breathing; footsteps and yawns loud and clear well before Mac spotted the first group of students making their way to Pod Three for breakfast.
    The sun leered over the mountains at her, a reminder time wasn’t patient. She cradled her mug between her hands, lifted it to savor the rich aroma of coffee on sea air, impatient for it to cool. Habit. Mac tended to ignore minor details such as how long her cup had sat on desk or workbench, so she’d grown used to what she gulped being cold, eventually liking it that way. Unfortunately, grad students were prone to random helpful acts, and she’d scalded her mouth more than once since coming to Base when someone reheated her coffee without warning.
    What first: Mudge or breakfast? She was not combining the two.
    “Mind if I join you?”
    Mac turned her head with a smile. “Morning, Case.” She gestured to the stair beside her and the student sat down. He was dressed for diving, though his wet suit was open at the neck and sleeves, the hood hanging down his back. His bare feet were porcelain pale and his toes, like his fingers, boasted reddish hairs at their joints. Like Mac, he carried a steaming mug in one hand. In the other was a promisingly plump bag.
    Case grinned at her interest. “Muffin?”
    “Thanks.” Mac pulled one from the proffered bag. Warm, yes. Also lopsided and unexpectedly green. New cooks. She took a generous bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Mint,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Now that’s original.”
    “But is it edible?” Case examined his own muffin dubiously.
    “You’ll have worse,” Mac assured him. She was pleased he’d sought her out; it took some students a tedious amount of time to realize research staff were people, too. They ate in companionable silence for a moment, watching a raft of bufflehead ducks bobbing on the swells. “Where are you diving today?” she asked.
    “We were heading for the reefs—down to the glass sponge observation station.” He didn’t try to hide his disappointment. “I’ve seen remote images of the deep corals off the coast of Norway, but nothing as up close as you have here.”
    “Were?” Mac had learned long ago how to instill a wealth of interested neutrality into both voice and expression. Lee’s plans weren’t hers to question—in front of his still-shiny student, anyway. “What changed?”
    Case looked taken aback by her