UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

XXVIII - PLANET EARTH

Light twinkled through the murk as a minisub nudged a neon numbered lock and a school of French grunts wheeled and darted away.

Sophie Doug Douglas saw those things, but didn't see them, as she hung face down in the water. She was n***d except for a gill mask, a weight belt, and a pair of flippers. Billions of Phytoplankton, all linked by miles of translucent fiber, embraced both her body and her mind.

The Say'lynt, one of four in existence, came from ocean world IH-4762-ASX41. Like her "parents", Shola was highly telepathic. Even more amazing was the fact that the alien could control other sentiments from a distance. Her voice echoed through Sophie's mind. "So, the work goes well?"

"Work?" Sophie asked dreamily. "What work?"

"Oh, nothing much", the alien teased, "just the interstellar corporation for which you have ultimate responsibility and the Center for Undersea Research".

"Oh, those", Sophie responded easily. "Doug Douglas Enterprises had another profitable quarter. As for the research, you tell me. How's it going?"

Shola felt the pull of a distant current and allowed part of her body to float toward the surface where it could absorb energy from the sun. "Nonsentient plankton absorb roughly half the carbon dioxide produced by your civilisation. That, as you might say, is the good news. The bad news is that carbon dioxide levels are on the rise, and contribute to global warming".

The human frowned. The citizens of Earth had made some progress over the last few hundred years, but not enough. "So, there's nothing we can do?"

"No", the Say'lynt replied. "I didn't say that. The southern oceans are relatively barren in spite of the fact that they contain enough nitrogen and phosphorus to support a large population of phytoplankton. More plankton would reduce the level of carbon dioxide".

The dreamy feeling disappeared. Excitement flooded in to replace it. "Really? How would that work?"

"The problem is iron", the group intelligence responded patiently. "Or the lack of it. Bodies such as mine use iron to make chlorophyll. The indigenous plankton obtain most of their iron from windblown dust. But there isn't enough. Not in the southern oceans".

"We could seed the area with iron!" Sophie thought excitedly. "The plankton would bloom, carbon dioxide levels would drop, and global warming would slow!"

"Possibly", the Say'lynt agreed cautiously. "Remembering the law of unintended consequences... and the need to proceed with extreme caution".

"Yes", Sophie agreed. "Of course! Experiments are in order".

"Who will fund the additional research?" Shola inquired. "The government?"

Sophie shrugged. "Maybe. That would make sense... But this is important! So important that Doug Douglas Enterprises will foot the bill of it comes to that. My uncle would want it that way".

The being once known as "raft four" had never met the man in question but had memories inherited from the other members of her race. For it had been Marcus Doug Douglas who, in his role as director for the Department of Interpecies Corporation, had successfully recruited rafts One and Two into the Confederacy's armed forces - a decision that was critical to the outcome of the Midvalian war. Shola sent a wave of affection toward her visitor. "Yes, I believe he would".

The moment was over. Sophie felt both rested and re-energized. There was work to do, a lot of it, but she was ready to take it on. "Thank, you Shola... How much longer till you return home?"

"I'm scheduled to lift a month from now", the alien replied. "Your planet is beautiful... but I miss my family".

"And we will miss you", Sophie replied. "See you tomorrow?"

Shola was silent for a moment. "Perhaps... but a storm is brewing... and the current carry is where they will".

"Let it rip", Sophie said confidently. "That's what I like about life below the surface... everything is so serene".

The Say'lynt knew better, had "heard" the distant screams, but allowed the matter to drop. The human would learn soon enough.

Sophie felt the tendrils drop away. Lights beckoned. She kicked, and they grew brighter.

The executive pushed her way downward, waved to a pair of trained dolphins, and eyed the complex below. Each tank, or habitat, wore a luminescence number. The VIP suite was located in nineteen. Sophie spotted the correct cylinder, entered the open lock, and pushed the green panel.

The hatch closed, a pump thumped, and the water level dropped. Sophie removed her equipment, used fresh water to rinse each piece off, and restored them to their hooks.

An inner door opened, and the executive's feet slapped as she walked the length of a short corridor, palmed the access panel, and entered her temporary quarters. She was halfway to the bedroom when someone cleared his throat. "Sorry, boss. I was leaving a note".

Sophie turned to find Dr. Anselm Beto, the center's director, standing by the fold-down desk. He was tall, with a swimmer's shoulders and sturdy legs. He had brown hair, even features, and a strange expression. Embarrassment? Yes, but tinged with something else.

That's when the executive remembered she was n***d. Should she run? Or bluff it out? She decided on the latter. "Hi, Anselm. Take a seat. I'll be back in a moment".

The oceanographer nodded mutely, wondered if she had noticed the bulge in his shorts, and hoped she didn't. She had creamy skin, a narrow waist, and beautiful legs. It was a lovely sight, and one that would haunt him for weeks to come.

Once in the bedroom, Sophie rinsed the salt off her skin, examined herself in the mirror, and wondered what Beto thought. Did he like the way she looked? Not that it mattered, since she had little time for men. That was one of the many sacrifices that went with the job.

The executive wrapped a towel around her head, slipped her arms into a robe, and padded toward the sitting room. A grouper nibbled at the heavily armored plastic window. Anselm stood and offered his hand. It was warm and firm.