Page 42 of Star-Born Anomaly
Then there were the clips of reporters trying to get comments from Dr. Lambdin as she navigated the halls of Asia Prime’s Science Academy days after the incident. They shouted questions at her like rabid dogs, ignoring her pain. Her posture curled inward as defenders escorted her to the administrator’s office.
Carver clicked to the next reel, the one official interview sanctioned by the Science Academy. Lambdin sat in a chair across from the interviewer, her spine straight and her hands clenched in her lap. Earth’s dead terrain spread out behind her through the window.
The interview had all the earmarks of Lambdin repeating a predetermined script. Whenever the reporters asked something off-topic, the doctor clammed up.
Carver tried to remain unaffected, but her disadvantage, her inability to answer the way they wanted, tugged at him. He pushed the sensation aside, and moved on to the next clip, then the next.
The news stories were still coming from that event. The animals were being studied at the Science Academy, and the media hadn’t tired of the updates.
More files were attached to those reports, ones marked with a government seal. He opened the packet. These encompassed the official investigation at the doctor’s outpost, an autopsy of her colleague’s remains, and a deeper dive into both doctors’ lives.
Carver read for a bit, then shook his head at the useless knowledge—useless until his orders firmed up and he knew what they wanted him to do with the woman.
He slapped his knees and stood, then signaled the handler they’d paired him with to await his instructions. He wouldn’t know what the hell he needed for the assignment until his final orders came through.
Like the thought materialized them into existence, live orders downloaded to his PALM.
Target confirmed: Dr. Wynn Lambdin. Retrieve alive. Final destination:Corvus, General Cazin. Immediate dispatch.
This was what they’d called him off for? A time-sensitive pickup? They could have asked a defender to perform the task.
And if Lambdin was a threat to CORE security, he would eat his left boot.
The really fucked-up thing was that they saw fit to send him terabytes of data, but his orders were one line. Besides Earth’s live weather update, no other details about what he’d find downloaded to his PALM—only that her probable location was a remote outpost.
He grabbed a short jacket out of the wall compartment, shrugged it over his shoulders, and zipped it up. Tapping his PALM, he messaged his handler to prepare his cruiser, and received confirmation a moment later.
Carver returned to the initial package of files and read the first of them as he exited his quarters. None of them had anything to do with Lambdin. The files were from a hundred fifty years ago: the details of Operation Odyssey and theCalypso’sdoomed mission to Epsilon Eridani, a solar system over ten light years away.
Why the fuck were they sending him this shit? He could have accessed library banks and read the same thing.
He stepped on the lift closest to his quarters. “Level sixty-seven.”
The lift descended, humming around him, then stopped, but the door didn’t open automatically, waiting for his security clearance. He swiped his PALM, and the lift continued its journey downward.
When it stopped, he swiped his ID again, then stepped out onto a military-controlled level, the corridors empty. He passed by unmarked doors, the shiny black surfaces of the inactive terminals in between reflecting his image back at him.
He was skimming the files scrolling across the bottom of his ocular readout when he noticed a tag on the first file. He slowed his steps. They’d attached another file, this one topped with a government seal.
After entering his ID code, another massive file downloaded. Hundreds of security reports were attached to the data he’d just skimmed, including sealed generals’ logs from every action with theCalypsowhen it returned to their solar system, and a wealth of secure communications between high-up officials.
What in the ever-loving fuck?Did every download have a secondary packet? Reading and listening to all of this before he reached Earth was impossible. His seven-day completion promise ticked away.
Carver picked up his pace, then stopped at the second last unmarked door on the left. He swiped his PALM on the control panel, and itopened into a docking port. He strode through the dark passage lit only by running deck lights, then swiped his PALM on the outer panel of his cruiser.
The airlock opened, revealing the interior of the customized ship. He stepped inside and inhaled deeply, the scent of his preferred cleaning fluid filling his lungs. His eyes skimmed over the sleek black interior, highlighted by beige upholstery. A two-seat cockpit spread out on his left, and a combination kitchen-living space lay on his right. Behind that, a slender door led to his sleeping quarters.
Out of the very little he owned, he was most attached to this ship.
He swiped the panel, and the airlock closed, sealing him inside. He passed the bank of wall terminals and slid into the pilot’s seat. With a swipe of his bio-signature, the ship began the pre-flight process. A moment later, the engine purred beneath his feet.
His departure clearance scrolled across the main terminal. No further orders came in.
The docking clamps released with aclank. He pulled away from the station and set a course for Earth.
Chapter sixteen
Consciousness trickled in a little at a time. An unsteady sensation followed.
