15. Clair #2
“I wondered how long it would take you to ask.”
“You knew I would?” Clair asked, surprised.
“You spent most of breakfast staring at my pitcher as though you wished to take it apart molecule by molecule,” her hostess said dryly.
Clair laughed.
“I guess I kind of did. It had such a unique taste—I want to know more about its medicinal properties.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you. Come. The veloria requires special growing conditions.”
Maera led her toward the far side of the conservatory, where a curved translucent wall separated one growing area from the rest. When they passed through it, the temperature dropped noticeably and the air became much more humid.
A faint floral fragrance filled Clair’s nose—soft and sweet with a sharper undertone she couldn’t identify.
The veloria grew in long raised beds filled with dark violet soil.
At first Clair thought the plants were fairly ordinary vines.
Their stems were thin and silvery-green, and their leaves were shaped somewhat like elongated hearts, though every leaf had a delicate lavender vein running through its center.
Then she saw the flowers.
“Oh, those are beautiful,” she exclaimed.
Each blossom was about the size of her hand and shaped like a wide trumpet.
The petals were pale lavender near the stem but deepened gradually toward the edges until they became deep purple.
Tiny silver specks shimmered across their surfaces like stardust, and the entire flower gave off a faint glow.
Maera reached down and touched one gently.
“They bloom only at night and begin closing shortly after the first sun rises. That is why the blossoms used in the nectar are harvested before dawn.”
“Does the timing affect the chemical composition?” Clair aside.
Maera nodded.
“We believe so. Nectar made from flowers harvested later in the day is considerably less potent.”
Clair’s eyebrows went up.
“Potent in what way?”
Maera hesitated.
“I suppose effective would be the better word. Women say they do not receive the same benefits with day-harvested nectar.”
Clair crouched beside the plant. She was longing to examine it.
“May I touch it?” she asked, looking up at Maera.
The other woman nodded her head graciously.
“Of course.”
Carefully, Clair lifted one of the leaves between her fingers, examining its surface. It was smooth and waxy on one side and softly furred on the other.
“What part do you use? Just the flowers?”
Maera nodded again.
“For the nectar, yes. The leaves have been used in poultices, but the flowers are considered the most valuable.”
Clair stroked one of the closed blossoms.
“And women really drink this every day?”
“Most do. Not always every single day, perhaps, but regularly,” Maera said.
“How young do they start drinking it?” Clair was fascinated by the idea that every woman on Titus Four was drinking the same thing. Surely there must be some significance here.
“Most women start drinking veloria nectar after their first flowering,” Maera answered.
Clair looked up, frowning in confusion.
“First flowering?”
Maera smiled.
“That is our name for the beginning of a girl’s fertile years.”
Clair nodded.
“Oh, right. Puberty.”
“Is that the human term?” Maera asked.
“Yes.”
Clair nodded again and looked back at the flowers.
“So women begin taking it at puberty and continue throughout their lives,” she murmured.
“Yes.” Maera nodded.
“But men don’t drink it?”
Maera shrugged.
“Generally not. It gives them no benefits.”
That little scientific itch at the back of Clair’s mind intensified and she rose and looked around.
“Has anyone ever compared the blood chemistry of women who drink veloria with women who don’t?” she asked.
Maera frowned thoughtfully.
“I am certain someone must have. We have been drinking it for generations.”
Clair frowned.
“That doesn’t sound very certain.”
Maera laughed.
“You must understand, Doctor Donovan, veloria is so common here that asking whether women who drink it differ from women who do not would be almost like asking whether people who drink water differ from those who do not.”
“Which is exactly how important things get overlooked,” Clair said.
Maera’s expression became more serious.
“You believe the veloria might have something to do with the Love Virus?”
“I don’t know yet.” Clair looked down at the luminous flowers.
“But we came here because the men on this planet are infected with what appears to be essentially the same virus that’s killing women on Glenvarren, except your men aren’t violent.
Then this morning I find out nearly every woman on Titus Four has spent most of her life consuming the same native plant.
It might be coincidence but then again, it might not. ”
Maera frowned.
“But do you really believe in coincidence when it comes to scientific matters?”
Clair shook her head.
“I’m a scientist. I believe coincidences are nature’s way of telling you to look closer.”
Maera smiled.
“I like that.”
Clair looked around the vast greenhouse.
“Do you have analytical equipment here?” she asked. “I’d like to run some tests.
“Not in the conservatory, but there is a botanical laboratory through there.”
Maera pointed toward another translucent wall.
Clair grinned.
“Exactly what I was hoping for. Lead the way.”
The laboratory beyond was smaller than the one she shared with Kaelus aboard the Mother Ship, but it was beautifully equipped.
The counters appeared to be grown from the same pale crystalline material as the walls, and instead of screens there were floating holographic displays which appeared whenever Maera touched certain places on the work surfaces.
Clair immediately felt at home.
“Do you mind if I analyze a blossom?” she asked.
“Not at all.”
Maera returned to the growing chamber and came back with three fresh veloria flowers. Clair selected one and began preparing the sample, though she had to ask for help several times because the Titus Four equipment operated differently from Kindred technology.
After several minutes, a complex molecular profile appeared in the air above the workbench. Clair leaned closer to study it.
“Huh,” she said.
Maera came to stand beside her.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
The veloria blossom contained dozens of identifiable compounds, including several antioxidants, hormonal regulators, and anti-inflammatory molecules which explained at least some of the traditional health claims. But there was one structure Clair didn’t recognize.
She enlarged it and rotated the image slowly. It was an unusually complex molecule with several linked side chains and what looked like a protective outer grouping that made the entire compound chemically stable.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked, nodding at it.
Maera studied it and shook her head.
“No. I have never studied veloria this closely.”
“Well, let’s just see what we can find…” Clair murmured.
With help from Maera, she searched the local database until a designation appeared beside the molecular structure.
VEL-7 precursor compound, it read.
“Precursor,” Clair murmured. That word made something in her memory stir. She enlarged the associated research notes and skimmed them quickly—but the information was surprisingly sparse.
“What is it?” Maera asked. She was clearly as invested in the project as Clair was now.
Clair frowned.
“It looks like whoever studied this before knew this compound wasn’t the final active molecule.”
She scrolled lower.
“See here? VEL-7 remains chemically stable in solution. Heat doesn’t activate it. Acids don’t do much. Basic digestive enzymes break down part of the outer structure but…” She frowned. “Then the research just stops.”
Maera frowned.
“Why?”
Clair shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
She ran a more in-depth search and then another and another, but no further records appeared.
“That’s strange,” she murmured. “There’s definitely something missing here.”
Maera leaned against the counter.
“Do you think it’s important?”
“Maybe. It could just be a blind alley but it could also be a piece in the puzzle.”
Clair stared at the molecule, willing it to reveal its secrets. There was something maddeningly familiar about the situation, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The plant produced one compound, but that compound itself didn’t appear especially biologically active.
A precursor—the compound was called a precursor—something that had to be changed before it became useful.
Then it finally clicked in her brain and she straightened up quickly.
“Oh my God!”
Maera, who had been leaning over beside her, also straightened.
“What?” she asked. “What did you find?”
“It’s not what I found,” Clair told her. “It’s what I remembered—the star-vine!”
Maera shook her head.
“I’m afraid I don’t know that plant.”
“Vellarian star-vine. I was studying one in my lab back on the Mother Ship.” Clair felt excitement begin fizzing through her veins.
“It produces a medicinal precursor that looks almost useless when you isolate it. But when it comes into contact with living tissue, the tissue changes it into an active compound.”
Maera’s metallic eyes widened.
“You think veloria might behave the same way?”
“I don’t know. But this molecule looks like it’s waiting for something.” Clair pointed at the hologram. “Look at these groups here. They’re almost like molecular locks. Something has to cleave them off before the central portion can interact effectively with receptors.”
Maera frowned.
“What kind of something?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Clair said thoughtfully.
Maera frowned.
“I am afraid I do not understand that expression. What is a dollar and why would you want a million of them?”
Clair laughed.
“Sorry—it’s a human saying. It means that’s the question we really need answered.”
She stared at the molecule for another moment.
“Do you have any prepared veloria nectar here?” she asked.
Maera shook her head.
“No, but I can make some.”
She started to leave but Clair stopped her.
“No, wait. I want to compare the raw flower with what you drank this morning first.”