Leppo swallowed visibly and nodded. “Sure,” he said. “What do you need?”
12
After he had finished talking to Leppo, Kieran went back to the inflatable-frame cabin, where he set Harry Quong the task of downloading available plans for construction and standard communications equipment of the Mule general purpose, low altitude, medium-haul transporter. By then it was late in the afternoon. While the others took a break from their debating to move around, some going outside to stretch cramped limbs, he sprawled out with a pen and note pad in an easy chair in the corner of the messroom and lost himself in thought, intermittently adding to a growing web of jottings and doodles copiously sprinkled with arrows, query marks, and exclamation points. Almost an hour later, he chewed on his pen and stared at a summary account of his labors in the form of the lines:
Replete with empire, fame, and wealth,
Hamilton frets for mind and health.
Seeking after higher things,
That guide the fates of priests and kings.
Would such a soul fear ancient powers,
Locked in pyramids and towers?
Then he got up, poured himself a mug of coffee, and went over to where Dennis Curry was sitting with Jean at the end of the long table.
“Hi, guys.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you’re among us again,” Dennis said. “You looked as if you were composing your life’s memoirs or something.”
“Just collecting thoughts.” Kieran pulled up a chair and sat down opposite them. “About that nano work of Pierre’s that we mentioned this morning.”
“What about it?”
“I assume that these remote-programmable protein synthesizers can self-assemble in any cell of the body. If they’re taken in through ingestion or respiration, there’s no way they can discriminate.”
“That’s my understanding,” Dennis agreed.
“Yet you couldn’t have them switching on in every cell in the body when they get a signal. It would be too crude. You’d swamp the system. There would have to be a way of selecting which cells you want activated.”
“Correct. There’s some way they react to enzyme activity and know which kind of cell they’re in. So part of the signal instructs which cells to activate.” Dennis looked at Jean. “Wasn’t that how it worked?”
“Something like that. I’m not sure I remember the details. We’d have to ask Pierre.”
“Why are you interested?” Dennis asked Kieran.
But Kieran was still too absorbed in his line of thought to reply directly. “So you could instruct them to start making some specific kind of protein only in a certain, specified kind of target cell? Harmless colored protein—a pigment?”
“Well . . . yes. That’s the idea,” Dennis said.
“How close are you two to Pierre?” Kieran asked them. “Harry said Jean knows him from years back.”
“That’s right,” Jean said. “Back on Earth. We were in the same bunch of students who hung around together, went on hikes, camping trips, tours abroad, things like that—the things kids do.” She sent Dennis a mystified look.
“Do you think he’d let you have access to this technology?” Kieran asked. “Maybe to help test it out in an impromptu field trial?”
Jean frowned. Dennis looked askance. “Well, wait a minute,” he cautioned. “I don’t know about that. As far as I know, it’s still a nonpublicized piece of private research. . . .”
“It’s not even his to decide about,” Jean said. “What are you asking him to do, steal it?” She shook her head. “Why should he do a thing like that?”
“What was his interest in your work here?” Kieran asked, trying another angle. “Was he on board just as the medic? I get the feeling his involvement went deeper than that.”
“That’s true,” Jean agreed. “Earth’s early history and the mysteries of the Technolithics had always been one of his passions. When we told him about the expedition, he was wild to get a place on it. We talked to Hamil. Hamil said that if we recommended Pierre it was good enough for him, and arranged for Pierre to travel out from Lowell with Walter. Pierre was devastated when he had to call it off—even more so now he’s heard what we’re finding here.”