just got ‘em,’ Kilkenny replied. He slid a file across the table to Eames and Sutton.
‘Jesus, that’s beautiful,’ Eames said as he spread the glossy prints on the table.
‘Cousteau would’ve been proud,’ Kilkenny agreed.
‘We loaded the last samples yesterday and the cryobot is on its way back to the surface,’ Collins said. ‘As the pictures show, there’s some pretty bizarre stuff down there, and we’ve only just started exploring this lake. I hope we can count on UGene’s continued support of this project.’
‘Once we get these first samples analyzed, I’m sure there won’t be any trouble funding a more comprehensive investigation of Lake Vostok,’ Kilkenny predicted. ‘Since NASA’s announcement in December, I’ve taken calls from several drug companies offering millions for a peek at your samples.’
‘Lloyd and I have increased the scan rate on our sequencers,’ Eames said. ‘Depending on the size of the genome, it shouldn’t take more than a few weeks to decode whatever you’re bringing back.’
‘And we’re working on some more improvements to make the process even faster,’ Sutton added.
‘I’d be even happier if you’d make your equipment smaller and lighter,’ Nedra said. ‘As you already know, space on the Europa Lander will be at a premium.’
‘We’ll do what we can,’ Sutton promised.
‘While you two are busy raising the cryobot and getting packed for the trip home, I’ll be working my way south to pick you up,’ Kilkenny announced.
‘What? You’re coming here?’ Collins asked, incredulous.
‘Yeah. Something came up and the NSF agreed to let me have a seat on one of their planes. If everything stays on schedule, I’ll be knocking on your front door in couple of weeks.’
The image on the wall monitor began to degrade.
‘Looks like our time is up,’ Kilkenny announced. ‘See you soon.’
Collins and his wife waved, then the image disintegrated and the screen turned solid blue. Kilkenny switched the monitor off. ‘It’s not every day you chat with someone at the South Pole.’
‘These photographs are amazing,’ Sutton said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this.’
‘Twenty million years of total isolation will do that to an ecosystem,’ Kilkenny said. ‘The Galapagos Islands were never cut off like Lake Vostok.’
Eames looked up from the photos. ‘All this good news calls for a celebration. Everyone up for dinner?’
‘I’m in,’ Kilkenny replied.
‘I’ve got plans,’ Sutton said apologetically, ‘but let me make a quick call. I’m sure I’ve got time for a drink.’
They ended up at Connor O’Neill’s, a Main Street restaurant modeled after the pubs of rural Ireland. In the front corner, a live band filled the place with a rollicking ballad that incited several patrons to holler and clap along with them.
‘Evening, Oz,’ a waitress called out as they entered, her accent authentic Dublin. ‘I see you brought some friends with ya tonight. If you like, there’s an open table by the fire.’
‘Thanks, Hannah.’
‘You come here a lot?’ Kilkenny asked.
‘I’m a regular,’ Eames replied. ‘Didn’t I ever tell you I was Black Irish?’
Kilkenny considered for a moment if Eames was serious. While it was obvious that most of Eames’s lineage was African, Kilkenny had to concede the possibility that, somewhere in the scientist’s ancestry, there might be a Spanish sailor who washed up on the Irish coast after the English navy destroyed the famed Armada. ‘I guess that would make us cousins.’
Eames turned and smiled at him. ‘Glad you finally noticed the family resemblance.’
On the way back, they ordered three pints of amber ale from the bar and settled in at a table by the fireplace.
‘To Lake Vostok,’ Kilkenny offered, his pint of beer raised.
Eames and Sutton seconded the toast and drained an inch from their glasses.
‘May I join you?’ a woman asked.
Kilkenny looked up as a woman approached the table. She looked to be in her early forties, with shoulder-length blond hair and the wardrobe of a working professional. To Kilkenny’s surprise, Sutton rose and kissed the woman on the cheek.
‘Nolan, this is Faye Olson,’ he said proudly.
Kilkenny stood and shook Olson’s hand. ‘A pleasure.’
‘For me as well. Lloyd speaks very highly of you.’
Olson then turned to Eames, who remained seated. ‘Hi, Oz.’
‘Hello, Faye,’ Eames replied politely.
Olson shed her overcoat and sat at the table as Sutton flagged down a waitress for a glass of white wine. ‘So, what are you celebrating?’
‘Just some exciting new things for these two guys to work on,’ Kilkenny replied.
‘I know how good that feels. I just brought in a big historic restoration project for my firm.’
‘You got Gordon Hall?’ Sutton asked.
Olson nodded with a smile.
‘Congratulations,’ Kilkenny said. ‘I live out that way. Given the history surrounding that old place, it deserves to be restored. What are your plans?’
‘Judge Dexter built the main house in the 1840s, so that’s our key date. We’ll make some concessions for mechanical and electrical systems, things that can be hidden in the walls,’ Olson explained, ‘but the rooms and the details will be as authentic as we can make them. Right now, the house is cut up into four apartments, so all that stuff has to go, as well as a couple of houses that were built on the property during the fifties.’
‘What about the acreage?’
Olson smiled. ‘All seventy acres are included in the National Historic designation, so no developer is getting his hands on it. This was, after all, a stop on the Underground Railroad.’
‘So that view will remain unchanged?’
‘It’ll actually be improved. When we’re done, it’ll be a pristine example of a Greek Revival mansion set on a rolling meadow.’
‘Sounds like an interesting project,’ Kilkenny said, picturing in his mind Olson’s architectural vision.
‘It is,’ Olson agreed. ‘Lloyd, do you have the tickets?’
Sutton patted his breast
