Exile-and Glory Read Free Page A

sends for. From all over the world."
    "Which ones grow best?" Adams asked.
    The Tongan laughed heartily. "We won't know that for years. Look at what we can do, temperatures, plankton mixes, dry fertilizers—one thing we try is different cleaners."
    "Cleaners?"
    "Yes, sir. What lubbers call trash fish. Little ones that clean up parasites. And shrimps. Big fish need 'em to live. There's a lot even the sea people don't know."
    Adams looked at him sharply and nodded. No wonder Dr. Martinez was pleased with his technicians. They'd know more about the reefs and the water than anyone else, and with their excellent basic school system it shouldn't take long to train them in systematic observation.
    "Another thing, maybe you can see down there," Samual said. He pointed down into the clear water. "Different shapes for reefs. We make them out of fiberglass in the shops. Makes a lot of difference what kind of fish live in them."
    They passed a series of rafts, each supporting long lines dangling into the lagoon. Samual pointed to them and said, "Oyster farms. That's the hatchery, when the rafts are full we move 'em. Take some outside the lagoon, keep some here."
    "What do you do about predators?" Bill asked.
    "Look," Courtney told him. One of the dolphins swam near the boat, a starfish clutched in its bill. "Our technicians catch them, but the dolphins do a better job," she said. "It's amazing what you can train them to do. Some are just like dogs, they want to please you."
    "Hard to operate here without dolphins," Samual agreed. "That's something we learned from you. But there's a lot the sea people know that didn't come from books."
    "I'm sure," Adams agreed. "You like working here?"
    "Who wouldn't?" Samual asked. "Why would anybody do something else?"
    "We're just learning about sea farming, I mean really learning," Courtney said. "When I think of the nonsense I was taught in schools—and there are so many variables. As Samual said, there's temperatures, reef shapes, species mixtures—and some of the parasites are necessary, some of them have to be eliminated. All we can do is try things, there aren't any good theories."
    "Yeah." What was it Helmholtz said, Adams thought. The most practical thing in the world is a good theory . . . . Well, that was all very well, but this wasn't just a research station. It was supposed to be a producing farm, and they'd better start getting something to sell out of those lagoons if they expected any more internal research and development funding.
    It was nearly dark when they reached the Station, and there is no twilight in the tropics. The sun fell into the sea and was gone. The lagoon became dark and mysterious, then suddenly flashed with whites and blues and greens, phosphorescent streaks, all about them, an endlessly changing light show. Two enormous shapes glided past the boat, turned, and charged for it again. Adams eyed them nervously.
    Courtney grinned, her teeth barely visible in the pale moonlight. "I wouldn't worry about them, those are the dolphins again," she said. Then she giggled softly. "They like to swim with the boats, and the phosphorescence makes them look bigger than they are. I pity any sharks that do manage to get inside the lagoon."
    "Some do?"
    "Yes. We can't keep a perfectly closed system in the open lagoons the way we can in the pens."
    "You know a lot about the operations here," Adams said quietly.
    She smiled. "I've been here four years." She sighed. "I like it here but it's time to move on. I've asked for a transfer to Company headquarters."
    "Why?"
    "Well, I'm not really a biologist, and there's not a lot of management work here at the Station. Dr. MacRae leaves most of that up to Santa Barbara."
    I've noticed, Adams thought. He looked at the girl, wondering if she could learn the important points about Nuclear General operations. She did all right with the technical stuff, and Mike King would have to stay here at the Station. She might be good company.
    They