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The second chain reaction had the same effect on the infection’s cellulose structures. Instead of apoptosis, infection’s cells produced a cellulase. Cellulase dissolved cellulose, the cell swelled and burst, spreading the cellulase catalyst to surrounding cells, and so on.

The Orbital had hijacked human systems; Tim was trying to turn the tables and do the same to the Orbital’s creations.

“Speaking of grunts,” Clarence said, appearing to refer to Tim’s comment about grunt work but intending it as a slap-back at Margaret’s insult, “What does Saccharomyces mean?”

“Yeast,” Margaret said. She felt her face heat with shame. No matter how bad she and Clarence fought, there was no valid excuse to insinuate he wasn’t smart, that his work didn’t matter. When she was fully rational, she knew that. Problem was, that man made her irrational far more often than she cared to admit.

She tried to shake it off, turned to face Tim. “Yeast, that’s smart. Modify their germline DNA so that subsequent generations produce that cellulase catalyst, and you’ve got an endless supply of something that kills the infection. Any luck?”

Tim shook his head. “Close, but no cigar. I was able to get the yeast to produce the catalyst, but that catalyst is toxic to the yeast as well. The engineered yeast die before they can reproduce, so we don’t even get a second generation, let alone the ma.s.sive colonies needed to secrete the amount of catalyst we’d need.”

Clarence fidgeted in his bulky suit, pulling at the blue material, trying to make it settle on him better.

“So, Doctor Feely, it’s just you down here,” he said. “Captain Yasaka mentioned you also helped with the wounded. How much sleep have you had?”

Tim frowned, made a show of counting on his gloved fingers. “Let’s see, carry the one, divide by four, and … Alex, the question is, what is zero?”

That didn’t surprise Margaret, not with the number of wounded up above.

“No sleep,” Clarence said. “You on drugs or something?”

“If by drugs you mean Adderall, Deprenyl and/or Sudafed — mostly and, though — then yes, I am on drugs.”

Margaret saw Clarence taking a deep, disapproving breath. She put her gloved hand on his arm.

“Clarence, relax,” she said. “Any doctor pulling a triple s.h.i.+ft might do the same.”

He turned to her, disbelieving. “Have you?”

“More times than I can count. I had a life before I met you, you know. And apparently a life after.”

If he wanted to make snide comments, she could do the same. The words caught him off guard, stung him. They also piqued Tim’s interest. Margaret wanted to kick herself for the slipup, for exposing personal problems at a time like this. She had to stay on point.

Tim grinned at Margaret. “Come on, it’s the scheduled time to give my little p.r.i.c.k to the two divers. After that, we can touch bodies. Dead bodies, that is.”

Clarence sighed again, and Margaret couldn’t blame him.