Page 4 of Star-Born Anomaly
“No shit.”
She increased her speed, the squat shape of her outpost growing into a rectangular building on stilts and its connected greenhouse, both made of metal composite and transparent aluminum. Rain coated the throttle, and she gripped it tighter, not slowing until in front of the main entrance. The cart lurched to a stop when she slammed her foot on the brake.
Reaching for the pulse rifle, she turned and searched the horizon. She couldn’t see the form through the rain. She could barely see anything at all. Wiping her visor didn’t help.
The rifle tight in her hand, she jumped out. Puddles splashed beneath her feet, and her boots slipped in the mud. She should take the hovercart back to the shed, but with the rain so thick, and the strange form on the horizon, she didn’t want to waste a second getting safely inside.
Stomach clenching with nerves, she passed the spot where Foster had died, grabbed the handrail, and pulled herself up the steps to the landing. The main doors slid open after a swipe of her PALM against the control panel.
Rain cascaded off her suit as she stumbled inside. She slapped the inner controls. As soon as the doors fully closed behind her, she unhooked her bag, empty of seeds now, and placed it in the wall compartment along with the pulse rifle to undergo their own decontamination process.
A fine mist erupted from above, coating her in cleansing fluid. She held still until it stopped. Moisture dripped from her suit to the floor, then through the grating to the filters beneath.
Wynn turned to face the second control panel, the one that would tell her how many toxins remained on her suit. The panel blinked red in warning.Too many.Not surprising after being drenched in acid rain.
Another layer of fine mist coated her before the next door opened. She stepped into the second decontamination room and turned to watch the storm grow in intensity. The shielding above her fields flickered in the distance, but at least it was operational. The inner doors closed, distorting her view.
With a flick of her finger, she disengaged her helmet. Her visor snapped backward, and the astringent scent of cleansing fluid filled her nostrils. She twisted the closure around her neck, pulling it over her head. The rest of her UV-suit followed. A second wall compartment slid open, and she dumped her suit, boots, and PALM inside. She felt a familiar moment of relief as it disconnected and peeled away from her skin.
Standing in her CORE-issue shorts and tank top, she waited as another round of mist covered her from head to toe. The transparent aluminum of the inner door reflected a faint image. Straight black hair cut to her chin, eyes too big for her face, and pale skin—she turned away when the lights on the panel turned green.
The last set of transparent doors released with a hiss, and Wynn expelled a long breath. “Finally.” The decontamination process felt especially long today.
She stepped into the entryway of her outpost. The familiar fragrance of green plants wiped away the decontamination fluid scent that followed her inside. Slippers waited beside the door, and she slid them on as the doors sealed behind her with asnick.
On her left, the hallway opened up into the kitchen, which led to the living area. On her right, two sets of quarters sat side by side. Across from them was the door to the lab, and beyond that, the entrance to her greenhouse. A short corridor connected the lab to the living area, making it a circular design in a rectangular shape.
Wynn hurried down the hallway, past her quarters, and into the lab. Besides the greenhouse, it took up the largest footprint in the building. Windows wrapped around two perpendicular sections of the walls, and glossy black terminals took up the space beneath.
She gaped at the way the sheets of rain bombarded the transparent aluminum, obscuring the endless view beyond. Rushing forward, she searched the central holotable for her binoculars.
“Where are they?” she muttered when she couldn’t find them among the diagnostic tools, scanners, and field supplies. She crouched to check the storage cupboards below, then moved to the wall compartments across from the windows.
She pushed samples and other equipment to the side, and finally found them underneath a case of petrified seeds. Snatching them up, she crossed to the window facing Research Station 214. With a touch to theterminal, she accessed storm controls. The awning outside extended to protect the windows from the direct onslaught.
The cold of the eyepieces pressed against her skin, and the thick downpour hindered her ability to see farther than a few meters. Wynn lifted the binoculars away from her face and changed the settings to thermal imaging. When she resettled them against her eyes, she gasped.
Itwasa person.
Chapter two
Why the hell was a personwalkingthrough a category five storm?
Thunder boomed, shaking the building around her, and Wynn’s fingers flexed on the binoculars. It made no sense. But there they were, heading slowly toward her more than a kilometer away.
She lowered her binoculars, her eyes seeing nothing on her own through the rain. Lifting them, the masculine shape lurched, made red, orange, and yellow by the thermal setting.
He stumbled forward, and her breath hitched. Was he hurt? The rain had almost knocked her out of the hovercart, so it had to be doing worse to someone walking in all that mud.
Lightning flashed, blinding her for a moment. She lowered the binoculars and bit her dry lip. Should she go get him? She turned, looking toward the main entrance and the hovercart parked there. She could put on a clean UV-suit and drive out there to pick him up.
But.
She hesitated. There had been no notification of a visitor. No one had even checked on her from the research station, though that wasn’t unusual. They’d always left them alone out here, even before Foster’s death.
If the person wasn’t from the research station, then who the hell was he?
She reached for her PALM, intending to check for updates, when she remembered she’d taken it off for decontamination. There were some spares somewhere.
