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Margaret rolled the concept around in her brain, but it didn’t take hold. She was already suspicious of the growths’ incredible complexity — another theory began to take shape.

Amos pointed to the screen. “The growth either produces or causes to be produced excess neurotransmitters, which create reproducible results. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

“There are other variances as well,” Margaret said. “There was seventyfive times the normal level of enkephalins in the tissue surrounding the growth. Enkephalin is a natural painkiller.”

Amos thought for a moment. “That makes sense. It’s hard to tell with all the rot, but it looks like the growth causes a lot of damage to the

surrounding tissue. Whoever engineered the growth doesn’t want the host to feel that damage. The level of complexity is astronomical.”

“Amos, you don’t have to root for the little b.u.g.g.e.rs,” Margaret said, a dressing-down tone in her voice. “We’re here to stop these things, remember?”

He smiled. “It’s hard not to be astounded. Come here and take a look at what I’ve got under the ultraviolet microscope.”

Margaret shuffled to the device, where Amos had been working for the last thirty minutes. Her Racal suit zip-zipped with each step as if she wore children’s footed pajamas.

She peered into the microscope. The sample looked like a normal nerve cell. Amos had done a perfect job of isolating and preparing the tissue: fingerlike dendrites, stained and glowing electric-blue under the ultraviolet light, reached out and over the thicker axons. It was the same connection that provides signal communication for every animal on the planet.

“It’s an isolated cl.u.s.ter of nerve cells,” she said. “Where is this from?”

“I found it near the eighth cranial nerve. The rot is working its way through there, but I was able to find a few relatively clean areas.”

Inside the awkward biosuit, Margaret frowned. The eighth cranial nerve, or the vestibulocochlear nerve, was where signals from the ear entered the brain.

“It’s heavily damaged, shows signs of decomposition, but still obviously nerve tissue,” Margaret said.

Amos remained quiet. Margaret looked up from the microscope.

Amos leaned forward. “You’re sure?”

Margaret wasn’t in the mood for games, but she took another look anyway. She could see nothing unusual.