The Solar Sea by David Lee Summers

offered tour packages, they were quite expensive—well beyond the budget of a scientist or a technician employed by an under-funded oceanographic institute. As such, neither Myra nor Lisa had made the trip before.
    On the way to the Moon, Myra virtually demanded to sit in a window seat, so she could see everything along the way. She looked forward to a distraction from the problem of the whale songs. The more Harmer and her colleagues examined the message, the more convinced they were it was intended for ‘ring keepers’ or ‘ring watchers’ of some kind.
    Lisa was content to sit on the aisle. She lay the seat back and fell into a light doze. When the flight attendant came by, Myra was delighted to try the gooey ‘astronaut food’ that had been the fare of shuttle crews for most of a century. She regretted it, though, when her stomach started doing flip-flops after a few bites. Though used to the rocking of ships at sea, she wasn't used to null gravity. Lisa woke up long enough to eat her meal, then fell asleep again.
    When the shuttle finally landed on the Moon, Myra gratefully unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed herself upright only to crash into the luggage rack above her head. Lisa held onto Myra's arm and helped her navigate the corridors to Pilot's office. He welcomed them and asked them to sit. “I gather you're on the verge of quite an extraordinary breakthrough,” he said.
    "Possibly,” said Myra. “We have a crude translation of a whale song, but that translation doesn't seem to help us translate any other whale songs. Either we've got it wrong or the whales are bilingual. If the latter's true, our findings will be extraordinary, but perhaps little more than a curiosity."
    "On the contrary,” said Pilot. He stepped over to a coffee pot and offered some to them. Lisa accepted while Myra politely declined. “I believe you've discovered the whales are speaking to someone called the ‘keepers of the rings.’”
    Myra leaned forward. “How do you know that?"
    Pilot poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Lisa. With the other cup, he gestured toward the computer on his desk. “You and your colleague, Dr. Cristof, have insecure Internet connections."
    "You mean you were spying on our conversation?” Myra asked, incensed. “What gives you the right?"
    Pilot shrugged. “Quinitite's used in almost all computer motherboards these days. When the Oceanographic Institute bought your computer, they signed a user agreement granting us license to any information transmitted or received from that computer.” He took a sip of coffee. “It's allowed under the Gates Act from the beginning of the century."
    "I thought the act only governed information regarding commerce,” said Lisa, more curious, than angry.
    Pilot nodded and perched on the edge of the desk. “This is a matter of commerce.” Sitting the coffee cup down, he retrieved a bound report from the bookshelf at his elbow. He opened it to a chart and handed it to Myra. “The conditions on Saturn's moon Titan are almost identical to those of the early Earth. We know the atmosphere is full of biocarbons. It's not impossible that some form of life has evolved there. Understanding life on Titan could help us understand life on Earth better."
    "Pushing biological and medical science forward hundreds of years,” affirmed Myra. “But...."
    Pilot held up his hand, cutting her off. “I'm looking for a team that can run our biological scanners and communication gear. I've read through both of your resumes.” He nodded toward Lisa. “You're an audio and computer technician par excellence. Not only can you assist Dr. Lee with the scientific analysis, you're well qualified to operate the communication's equipment."
    Lisa frowned. “If you think I'm going to be like that woman in the old television show that wears a red mini skirt and says, ‘Hailing frequencies open, Captain,’ every five minutes, you've got another thing coming."
    Pilot rolled his eyes both