Page 14 of Star-Born Anomaly
Carver took a deep breath, then another, before touching his PALM to access his ocular implant’s interface. He watched as what had happened over the past few hours sped by in reverse. With a touch of his finger, he paused his feed at the moment Milo Archibald opened his door for him. He went forward again, cutting the sections where his superiors could find fault, where Carver had hesitated, where he looked weak. Then he took out the parts where the man talked about the boy.
I don’t have time for this.
And he didn’t, but Carver did it anyway, cutting and blending with touches to his PALM, adjusting the readout, adding still moments, so everything matched up.
He would have cut more, but couldn’t linger any longer. He paused at the last part where the man spoke of the twelve. Carver needed that part, or he couldn’t complete this assignment.
So why did he hesitate even then?
Hesitation means death.
He left the remainder of the recording untouched, knowing he’d get a reprimand for the cause of death. He didn’t have time for anything better.
With the recording altered, he meshed the timestamp with the current time, and strode toward the exit, his black case slung over his shoulder.
He stepped out into an empty corridor and squinted against the bright after being in dim lighting for so long. As he headed to the closest lift, he touched his PALM, reconnecting with the grid to send a message to his handler.Mission complete.Cleaner required.
The lift door opened, and he stepped into an empty car. The doors closed with a swish behind him, and the lift descended. A second later, the acknowledgement of his completed assignment came through, along with a notification of creds delivered into his account.
He turned to face the door when new orders appeared at the bottom of his ocular implant.
Carver inhaled a deep breath.So much for a rest period.
Chapter six
Wynn woke with a start, like a pulse rifle fired next to her ear. She jerked upward, sitting straight, her heart hammering in her skull. The bedcovers slid down her body to pool at her hips, and she fisted them in her hands, trying to catch her breath.
A rumble of thunder made her look up. Rain splattered against the narrow window, the light level fractionally brighter than it had been when she’d fallen into bed.
She’d worked for hours in the greenhouse, allowing exhaustion to seep into every bone before attempting sleep. Her mind had only wanted to hyperfixate on the man dying in Foster’s quarters. When her eyes had barely stayed open, she’d called it quits. The rumble of thunder had soothed her like a lullaby, with an occasional boom disrupting the constant purr.
She glanced at the door, dread swirling in her stomach. Another person died here, only meters away, while she did nothing.
Her insides twisted, and the room spun. She reached up and settled her hand on her forearm, the feel of the lines against her palm grounding her. Turning her head, she stared at the washroom door. The urge to get up and retrieve the kit she had stashed there was making her twitchy.
No.She didn’t have time for self indulgence when there was shit she needed to do. She had to check the body. If comms were back up, she would report the incident to her superiors at the Science Academy. She also needed to find out how long this storm was going to last, and if any of her fields had survived the night.
Pushing the covers aside, Wynn rose. The carpet felt cool against her bare feet. She padded to the wall compartment and pulled out a set of CORE-issue comfort wear, a long-sleeved shirt and loose fitting pants. Quickly, she swapped out her tank and shorts for the clean set, and pushed the dirty ones into the laundry sluice.
Her door slid open when she stepped close, the lights in the hallway set to half-luminosity for night. She paused, swallowing. She didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to have another dead person haunt her dreams.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the corridor. Nausea swirled in her stomach as she walked to Foster’s door. She stopped in front of it, lifted her hand to touch the control, then paused.
The sedative she’d given him would have allowed him to pass away in his sleep, but how would he look after bring ravaged by radiation all night?
Get it over with.
Wynn swallowed the bile climbing the back of her throat and pressed the control to open the door. She expected the stench of death to have already started because of the rotting of his organs from the inside out, but there was nothing.
And no one.
“Lights full,” she whispered, and everything brightened.
She sucked in a sharp breath. The room was empty, the bed unoccupied. Rumpled sheets mussed the bed where he’d lain, but he was nowhere to be found.
Heart in her throat, she spun around and scanned the hallway up and down. Had he somehow dragged himself out of the room and died elsewhere?
Two steps took her to the door of the lab. It opened as she approached, and she darted inside, eyes scanning everywhere. It was empty too.
