“Failed me?” Bianco asked softly. “In what way?”
Oyamo took in a deep hissing breath, as if a knife wound was paining him. “I have not put the interests of Trikon International foremost in my work. I have thought as a Japanese rather than as a member of the human race at large, as you have wished us to do.”
“It is not merely my wish,” Bianco said, his voice low but firm as bedrock. “It is necessary. For the salvation of Japan. For the salvation of all.”
Oyamo bowed his head, eyes closed. “I have shamed myself.”
“No, no,” said Bianco. He was tempted to reach out and grasp the man’s shoulder, but refrained, not knowing how a Japanese would react to an Italian gesture of friendliness.
“The whale deaths showed me the truth of it. And then what has happened here on the station proved it. By seeking individual gain we have nearly destroyed everything.”
“It is not too late to change,” Bianco said. “Not too late to begin anew.”
Oyamo made no reply. His eyes remained shut.
“Will you be willing to return to this station once it is ready for operation again?”
His eyes snapped open. “You would want me to return?”
“If you can work for the good of all.”
Oyamo bowed deeply. “Yes! That is my deepest desire.”
“Your employers in Tokyo . . .”
“They could not refuse a direct request from your illustrious self?”
Bianco nodded gently. “Perhaps we truly can bring together a team of men and women who understand the realities of the world. Perhaps we can make a new beginning.”
“I would be honored to have your trust,” said Oyamo.
Bianco gazed deeply into his eyes once again and saw that they were no longer guarded, no longer unfathomable. Oyamo was begging for forgiveness, and a new chance to prove himself.
“You have my trust,” he said. And he clasped both Oyamo’s shoulders. The Japanese biologist radiated gratitude.
“It was among the pile of messages waiting for me when the comm blackout was lifted,” said Lorraine Renoir.
Thora Skillen fought down the wave of bewilderment, almost giddiness, that surged through her. When the doctor had called her to the infirmary she had thought it was to tell her the results of her tests the previous week. But Lorraine’s news was totally unexpected, shattering.
Keeping her voice as flat and unemotional as she could, she asked, “Human trials, you say.”
“Yes,” Lorraine replied, smiling happily. “Human trials.”
“With what success rate?”
“Better than eighty percent.” Dr. Renoir glanced at her desktop computer screen. “Eighty-two, to be precise.”
Skillen took a deep breath. So much had happened in the past few days. And now this. Her world was threatening to tumble topsy-turvy. Everything would be changed if…
“It’s real, Thora. The Tufts University School of Medicine is one of the most respected in the world.”
“It repairs the CFTR defect.”
“In eighty-two percent of the patients tried so far.” Another glance at the computer screen. “A total of forty-seven men, women, and children.”
Skillen heard someone giggle, and realized it was herself. Lorraine was smiling broadly at her.
“They can correct the cellular defect that causes cystic fibrosis,” the doctor repeated. “You can be cured, Thora.”
It was impossibly ironic. “Through genetic engineering.”
“Yes, healthy CFTR genes can be inserted into you to replace the defective ones that cause the disease.”
Skillen laughed out loud. It was so funny! Dr. Renoir’s expression went from happiness to amusement to troubled, doubting worry.
“Don’t be afraid,” Skillen said, struggling to control herself. “I’m not going to be hysterical. It’s just that . . .” She stopped. What could she say? How could she tell someone who was not a sister?
“I know,” Lorraine said kindly. “It’s rather overwhelming. It means an entire new life for you, doesn’t it?”
“More than you know,” Skillen said. “Much more than you know.”
She thanked Dr. Renoir and pushed out of the infirmary as quickly as she decently could. The irony of it! The wild, crazy, delicious mixed-up convoluted incongruity of it! A molecular geneticist dying of a genetic disease whose only thought for the past two years has been to punish the rest of the world finds out that other molecular geneticists have learned how to cure her.