It's masterfully done. Halfway through their presentation, half the room looks convinced that opposing Maritime means condemning Stormhaven to economic suicide.
Margaret finds me across the room. "Dr. Calder, you requested time to present alternative findings. The floor is yours."
I rise. My laptop connects to the display, hands operating on autopilot. Years of research distilled into this moment. Years of asking questions that colleagues dismissed, of following patterns that made no sense until I understood what I was really looking at.
"I'm Dr. Isla Calder, marine biologist specializing in North Atlantic ecosystems." My words carry through the chamber. "I've been documenting unusual activity in the waters aroundSkara. What I've found contradicts Maritime's environmental assessment in every significant aspect."
First image pulls up, satellite data showing whale migration patterns. "These are humpback whales, an endangered species under international protection. They've been congregating in the waters Maritime wants to dredge. Not passing through. Congregating. Which suggests these channels serve as critical habitat, possibly breeding grounds."
Next slide shows sonar imagery. "This is the seafloor topography in the proposed dredging zone. Notice these formations." I highlight the areas Maritime's divers were filming. "These aren't random rocky outcrops. They're structured environments that provide shelter for species we haven't fully catalogued yet. Destroying them would be ecological devastation we can't reverse."
I move through the data methodically. Temperature gradients that prove unique microclimates. Chemical signatures indicating rare mineral deposits. Species counts showing biodiversity that rivals protected marine reserves. Each piece of evidence builds on the last, constructing an irrefutable case that Maritime's proposal would violate multiple environmental regulations.
"But beyond these issues, there's a practical concern." I pull up the contamination data. "These samples were taken from waters where Maritime has already been conducting surveys. Notice these compounds." I highlight the chemical signatures that shouldn't exist. "This isn't normal industrial output. Whatever methods Maritime is using, they're already causing measurable environmental damage."
Silence blankets the room. Even Carrick's lawyers have stopped their whispered consultations to stare at my screen.
"In my professional opinion, approving Maritime's proposal would expose Stormhaven's council to significant legal liability."I let that sink in. "Multiple environmental protection statutes would be violated. Endangered species habitat would be destroyed. And the economic benefits Maritime promises wouldn't materialize because the ecosystem damage would devastate Stormhaven's fishing industry and eco-tourism appeal."
I sit down. Nobody moves for long seconds.
Carrick rises, and his smile could freeze seawater.
"Dr. Calder presents impressive data." His tone drips condescension. "But I notice she's affiliated with no current research institution. Her funding sources are unclear. And her conclusions conveniently align with a small group of islanders who resist any form of progress."
"My institutional affiliation is irrelevant to the data's validity." I keep my tone level despite anger building in my chest. "The research methodology is sound, the findings are reproducible, and the legal implications are clear."
"Are they?" Carrick locks onto me. "Or are you seeing patterns that don't exist because you want to see them? Confirmation bias is common among scientists who become emotionally invested in their subjects."
"Interesting theory." I meet his gaze without flinching. "Though I notice your data conveniently aligns with your ability to turn a profit. Perhaps we should discuss the bias of researchers whose conclusions depend on securing development contracts."
Fire blazes where the pendant rests against my skin. I resist the urge to touch it, but Carrick's attention drops to my throat for just a fraction of a second. When it rises again, his pupils have dilated with interest.
He senses something. Impossibly, he recognizes power when he sees it.
Arguments fly back and forth as council members ask questions and Maritime's lawyers provide reassuring answers that sidestep the substantive issues I raised. Margaret finally calls for a recess. Defeat tastes bitter on my tongue. Economic promises are too tempting, fear of being left behind too potent.
"The council will vote soon." Margaret's pronouncement falls like a death sentence. "We'll use that time to review all materials presented tonight and consult with our own environmental and legal experts."
Islanders disperse slowly, clustering in small groups to debate what they heard. Brotherhood members maintain their positions, watching Carrick's people pack up equipment with predatory focus. I gather my own materials, mind racing through what went wrong and what I can do differently before the vote.
"Dr. Calder." Carrick's voice turns my spine to ice. "A moment, if you would."
His lawyers have disappeared, and remaining council members are filing out. Grayson shifts along the wall, attention locked on us. But Carrick positions himself so his body blocks the room's view of my face, creating a barrier of false privacy.
"That was an impressive presentation." Nothing warm touches his features. "Passionate. Well-researched. Ultimately futile, but impressive nonetheless."
"The council hasn't voted yet."
"The council will approve our permits." He states it with flat certainty. "But that's not why I wanted to speak with you." He pauses, and his focus drops again to the pendant hidden beneath my jacket. "I'm always looking for talented researchers to consult on my projects. Someone with your expertise in marine ecosystems could be invaluable."
"I'm not interested in helping you destroy these waters."
"I'm offering triple your current salary, a full research budget, and state-of-the-art equipment." His tone drops lower. "Think of it as salvage archaeology for ecosystems. Preserving knowledge even if we can't preserve the physical sites."
"No."
His features change, humor draining away to reveal calculation underneath. "Think about it. You're what, mid-thirties? No institutional backing. Research funding dries up fast for scientists who get reputations as difficult." Nothing changes in his expression. "Just something to consider."
