Page 70 of Star-Born Anomaly
Hopelessness and rage swirled together in a heady mix. She needed to get away from him, to hell with whatever orders he obeyed. Her every cell screameddanger, even more so after what she’d witnessed on the surface.
Iax. Was he alive or dead? She swallowed around the large lump in her throat, the skin of her neck tugging with the motion and reminding her of the node. Her fingers twitched to take it off, but Sawyer’s threats rang in her head.
He turned his body until he looked in her direction. “Engage. Your. Helmet.”
Wynn hated this man with every fiber of her being.
Glaring at the reflection in his helmet, she reached and pressed the control on her suit. The visor slid into place with asnap. Behind him, the viewer blacked out as the tether cabin inserted itself into the orbital station. Her heart raced, a foreboding itch crawling over her skin.Clank. The docking clamps engaged,the sound echoing twice more before everything fell silent with deafening finality.
“Up,” he ordered without looking at her, grabbing his case off the deck and slinging it over his shoulder.
Tension surged through her body, her limbs stiff with the need to flee. She stared at him for a long minute, waiting to see what other threats he would throw her way, then pressed her hands against the deck to push herself to stand.
The cabin swayed, and she tried to focus on the blackened viewer to regain her balance. But there was something wrong with her, like whatever he’d given her remained in her system, making the bulkheads undulate.
Strong fingers encircled her upper arm, holding her in place. She jerked, trying to get away from the vise-like grip, unnerved she hadn’t heard him move.
He tugged her closer and bent his head until the only thing she could see in the reflection of his visor was the warped image of her pale face behind hers.
“If you try to talk to anyone,” he said, his voice sliding directly into her ear now that the comm interface was engaged, “I’ll start shooting indiscriminately, and their deaths will be on your head.”
“What the hell?” she choked out, her throat feeling like he still squeezed it.
He had to be bluffing.
“Do you want that? Blood on your hands?”
She stared at him with a slack jaw, disbelieving he would actually follow through.
He must have seen her skepticism, because he said, “My superiors don’t care as long as I get you to your end destination. They’ll blame it on some extremist attack and call it a day.” He stepped closer. “So I ask again, do you want blood on your hands?”
She swallowed, unable to move, but whatever he saw on her face must have appeased him. He straightened and yanked her toward the exit.
Wynn tugged on her arm, trying to free herself, but when he loosened his hold a fraction, the bulkheads swayed. She stumbled. The grip on her arm tightened, and he jerked her forward.
The inner decontamination doors opened with a swipe of his hand. Sawyer pulled her inside. As soon as the doors closed behind them, the process started, a fine mist covering their suits.
Keeping hold of her, he pressed his PALM to the outer control panel. Wynn leaned as far away as she could get from him. The need to curse at him, to kick and punch, burned through her blood. But it was all she could do to keep her balance.
“Make your visor opaque,” he said without looking at her.
She fumbled a moment, then tapped her PALM to obey.
The decontamination process stalled before it could go through a full cycle. The moisture on their outerwear evaporated in a gust of wind. He dropped his hand from the panel, and the inner doors opened.
A woman stood there, backed by two defenders in uniform. A superintendent’s emblem graced the left side of her pristine white uniform, with the CORE insignia above that. She frowned at them, her gaze bouncing from one to the other.
She opened her mouth to say something when Sawyer spoke first. “Is the ship I requested ready?”
More tension climbed Wynn’s spine as the woman’s scowl deepened, a red flush traveling up her throat. “I could not obtain the exact vessel. You didn’t give me enough time.”
“Then you’ll take us to the fastest ship docked.”
His anger whispered into Wynn’s ear through their comm connection, twisting her already nauseous stomach.
One perfectly groomed eyebrow arched with skepticism, then the superintendent snorted and turned on her heel. “This way. We have one ship you cancommandeer, as you put it, but that’s all. You’ll need to make do.” The defenders stepped to the side, their backs to the bulkhead, and waited.
The grip on her arm tightened a moment, then relaxed. Sawyer guided Wynn forward, and they followed the superintendent down the typical corridor of a space station, the bulkheads lined with shiny black terminals, some turned on, but most off. The footsteps of the defenders thumped behind them, adding to the anxiety growing in Wynn’s head.
