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purpose was more complicated than the guide knew.

She checked her hand-comm every two minutes in a discrete maneuver. The security app she copied from her brother’s corporate memglass proved she was on the right course. When the time came, she’d have to figure out a convenient excuse for dropping off the tour. It wouldn’t sit well with the guide, a man who guest-lectured at the Vox School for Girls an entire semester. Kara thought his arrogance was exceeded only by his lechery.

The group of six entered a lift. When the door closed, their guide paused the descent.

“The research division is normally hidden from public view,” Dr. Taul Parke told them. “However, you have been granted VIP access. Per the contracts you signed, we ask for maximum discretion. No recordings, no documentation, no discussion of anything you see. Our proprietary work must be protected. Any violation of your contract will result in enormous financial penalty.”

She hated his voice. Parke’s high-pitched tone and stiff bottom lip oozed condescension at every syllable. The girls at Vox developed all manner of running jokes, obscene artistic renderings, and memes that made their way onto the Pinchon IntraNex under phony accounts. Rumors suggested he refused to teach a second semester after the demeaning barrage.

The lift opened, and Parke led them onto a platform overlooking a cavernous hall. A series of aquariums, from those no bigger than swimming pools to others more than fifty meters round, dominated the view. A network of open laboratories, conveyances, and catwalks filled the gaps between aquariums. Drones hummed as they circulated above the emerald green water.

“Every creature that makes its way from the ocean to our table lives here, and then some,” Parke said. “Per the Nantou creed, nothing from the sea goes to waste. We are constantly exploring new avenues for refining our catch. At our investors conference last week, Nantou revealed our product line has expanded nineteen percent in the past two years. Our catch is infused into more than sixty-two percent of all food consumed on Hokkaido. Combined with our competition, that figure now exceeds eighty-seven percent.”

“What a stunning achievement, Honored Parke,” an older woman exclaimed. “Hokkis would not survive without the seamasters.”

Sure, Kara thought. Big numbers. Bigger exaggeration. She doubted continentals ate as much seafood as Nantou’s marketing machine claimed. Higher the demand, higher the prices. She wanted to feed the old woman a reality check, but she remembered contesting Parke once in class. It did not go well.

“An astute observation,” Parke told the tourist. “This is why we must continue our research, not only to generate new food products from our catch but also into the arena of oils, medicines, and – if I might be bold – a potential revolution in pleasure supplements.”

His “boldness” drew snickers and reddened cheeks. Kara kept her contempt in check and her eyes shaded.

The tour continued on the main floor. Parke led them past watery habitats for varieties of crabs, variants of octopi and F’heldabeast, schools of ratfish, bone snakes, blue prawns, droplings, and glowing archers. He offered data points and two commercial uses for each form of catch. But the biggest tank far and away was the last stop and the most dramatic.

“We have duplicated their breeding grounds to an immaculate degree,” Parke said as they studied a school of Kohlna.

The giant fish – the primary source of a typical Hokki diet – did not cut a pleasant figure. More than fifteen feet long, the Kohlna sported a misshaped, bulbous head. Its eyes carried deep red irises. Its gaping mouth never closed, revealing an ivory set of inch-long teeth, each razor-sharp and collectively able to tear through synthetics and cables. Its dorsal fins supported a wingspan measured in feet. Scientists theorized it flew at an earlier stage in its evolution. Its skin glimmered like armor, though close inspection revealed it to be covered in a handful of tightly packed scales.

The Kohlna swam amid a facsimile environment of rocks, dancing sea cabbage, urchins, and finger-sized waddle fish, which played an outsized role in transferring Kohlna eggs to safety during their brief incubation. Words of awe, respect, and a fair amount of uneasy revulsion at the strange beast rose from the tourists.

“The most important creature in the natural world,” Parke said. “A survivor, a predator, a provider. After all these centuries, it continues to deliver sustenance like nothing else. And to think: The first colonists who took to the seas feared the Kohlna. Few Hokkis know this, but the Kohlna was not harvested for food until a century after colonization.”

“Pah!” A male tourist said. “With fair respect, Honored Parke, that is simply a maiden’s tale. I am an economist and a bit of an historian. I know for a fact the first stocks were traded in the original Aquatic Market less than forty years after the first colonists arrived.”

Parke showed no sign of indignance and replied with cool demeanor.

“Your timing is correct, Honored Sai, but I fear your details are confused. The Aquatic Market was a speculative venture geared toward shipping and the hope our Chancellor benefactors would provide the raw materials for ramping up construction of deep-sea vessels. They did not, and the Aquatic Market dissolved after twenty fruitless years.”

Parke saved the smug twirl of his lips until the end. Kara had no interest in a history lesson on the economy. Plus, she knew both men were wrong. She glanced at her hand-comm and zeroed in on the signal she needed. She scoped in every direction and spotted the required exit. She was close to fulfilling her mission.

Now was the time to end this charade. She hid the hand-comm and stepped forward.

“May I ask a question, Honored Parke?” She said.

“Young Miss Syung. Of course.”

“I wonder about the wisdom of keeping Kohlna imprisoned down here for study. I mean to say, we’ve harvested this animal for centuries. We

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