“Nothing’s working,” Max yawned over the phone. After four hours of sleep in the back of Rory’s truck, he’d returned to monitor the temporary pipeline at the holding lagoon. CJ gripped her phone and smiled. Across the canal, she lay in thick weeds at the mouth of the unnamed rivulet, listening to Max breathe. She hadn’t slept much either. The clear pre-dawn had turned frosty, and she hadn’t brought enough clothes. In the chilly darkness, she hugged herself to stay warm. “They’ve been pumping for... over an hour. Must be a thousand gallons in that lagoon,” she said. “Oui, over five ton. But no djab dile. All they capture is clean water.” Clean water. CJ savored those words. Her colloid was doing his magic again. Without understanding why, she felt an instinctive bond with the wild changeling. Through binoculars, she watched Yue and Vaarveen yell at each other beneath Gulf-Pac’s floodlights, and she regretted not buying a high-sensitivity microphone so she could eavesdrop.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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