acquaintance telling me about potential biologicals!” The voice got closer with every word, even though Denver couldn’t make out its owner yet. “They’re an extremely rare commodity, as you certainly must know. So rare, in fact, that I have to question their provenance. Where would a little cabal like yours come across biologicals interesting enough to ask for an audience with me?”
“Why does it matter?” Marit demanded. “Either you’re interested, or you’re not.”
“Ah, the Martian speaks.” The voice was in front of them now, and Denver thought he could make out the outline of a person. “If I were you, I’d hold your forked tongue, little Martian girl. You step foot in New Selene solely by my forbearance, and I haven’t decided yet whether what you have to offer is worth the headache your filthy accent gives me.”
Denver put his hand on Marit’s elbow to keep her from arguing. “We got lucky. Found something big, and now we need buyers, fast. We have a wide variety available, but in very limited quantities. You want something specific, you’ll need to ask.”
“Iiinteresting.” The figure hobbled a little closer. Now Denver could see the silver in his eyes. This was definitely Gru, then. “All right then, I’ll play. Do you have any…” He paused dramatically. “Fungi?”
Denver blinked. “Fungi?” He looked at Laramie, who shook his head and shrugged.
“Like mushrooms,” Marit said.
Gru tsked. “So much more than mushrooms, you ignorant Martian ingrate.” He took another few steps, and a wash of pale light from a pendant around his neck finally illuminated his face. It was craggy and pocked, but in the forgiving darkness he looked way less frightening than he had in Poppy’s dossier. “Mushrooms are just the tip of it. Molds, mildews, yeasts, rusts. They’re little biological saviors, they are. They bring light…” He swept his hand out toward all the illumination in the room. “All while feasting, growing, thriving in darkness. They’re more complex and nuanced than anyone from the wrong orbit could ever grasp.”
“Let me check,” Denver said quickly before Marit could respond. The last thing they needed was to get into an argument with a Luny in a room that looked like something out of a drug-induced hallucination. He pulled out his ID and activated it, then opened up OPAL’s encrypted file. He typed in FUNGUS and waited.
“Penicillin.”
“Be more specific, boy. Latin, give me the Latin!”
For fuck’s sake. Fortunately, OPAL had included the Latin names too. “Um…” Shit, the words were long. “Penicillium chrysogenum?”
“Medicinal. Interesting. I have several strains cultivated already, but perhaps. Go on.”
“Sacc… saccharomyces cerevisiae.”
Gru made an enthusiastic noise. “Another useful fungus, used for brewing and baking. I know several distillers who would kill for a new variety of yeast to power their rotgut. Continue.”
“Okay.” Oh, well, this next one sounded disgusting. “Tuber melanosporum.”
Gru went perfectly still. “You can’t be serious.”
Denver shrugged. “That’s what is says. Why? Is it dangerous?”
“Dangerous? Dangerous? Is the sun dangerous to those who would worship its rays and be burned by its ferocity at the same time? Tuber melanosporum, oh, it’s a myth. It’s a legend!”
“To who?” Laramie muttered, but Gru heard him. Bright, beady eyes tilted toward Laramie, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of contempt.
“Such things are known to those who have the will to keep old Earth alive. Even if it must live now in our hearts and minds, hoarded away by those in their vile positions of power. I have stepped foot on the bountiful hearth that was our homeworld, and trust me when I say that station trash like you shall never be able to appreciate the profundity of everything you never knew you lost.”
Laramie shrugged, not betraying any of the annoyance Denver felt through their bond. “Whatever you say, old man.”
Gru turned back at Denver. “Tuber melanosporum, otherwise known as the black truffle. It was worth its weight in gold, once upon a time. If you truly have a sample of it, I will pay you handsomely. If you don’t…” He leaned in and bared his jagged teeth. “If you don’t, I will make you pay for dangling beauty in front of my face and then snatching it away.”
Before Denver could reassure him, the intercom crackled to life. “Raid, Gru, it’s a gov raid!”
Denver’s heart slammed into high gear. He grabbed Laramie’s arm, ready to pull him to safety, except he had no idea which direction to go.
“Get out of there, Gru,” the voice on the loudspeaker said. “Run!”
Gru’s head whipped toward the alert,