white ball in the starry sky. It appears this level is intended to function as a sort of terrarium, with greenery native to Earth, and even a water feature winding its way about the garden.
We discover a small office adjacent to the inert lift and Fiona forces the door open. Once inside, the console appears to be a much more powerful model than those we’ve yet encountered, but it also proves to be wiped clean.
Fiona stops cursing for a moment and opens a panel on the desk the console rests on top of. Her eyes widen, and she takes out a stack of white, flexible rectangles with black spots on them.
“What in the world?” She peers at it. “This is in English.”
“Is that—is that paper?” Solair picks up a sheaf and stares incredulously. “Who would waste time putting information on a medium so fragile rather than using time tested and reliable electronic means?”
Fiona stares at the documents and shakes her head.
“Because you can’t hack a sheet of paper.” Her face contorts in anger. “Damn it, most of this is redacted. Almost every other sentence is blacked out.”
“Let’s take it anyway.” Varia helps to gather the sheets of paper. “These are passenger manifests, and this is the IHC seal. I can’t tell, but it looks like some sort of arrangement is being made.”
Suddenly a loud, piercing dissonant screech rips through the air. We all wince in unison and share terrified looks.
We must have tripped an alarm.
“All right, everyone back to the ship, double time.”
Falling in behind Solair, my heart hammering in my chest, I can only hope we make it in time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Grantian
On our way down the ramp, I move past Zander and Solair, taking the point position. I’m determined to build hard walls between any danger and Lamira, even if those walls are built of my own flesh and blood.
So far, there’s been no signs of any resistance, but alarms are designed to attract attention—and usually not the friendly type.
The ramp winds ever inward, our circuits growing shorter. When the passage flares out onto the first processing level, I move to the wall and keep my back flush against the surface. Peering out around the corner, I spot more than two dozen hulking shapes looming in the darkness—right between us and the exit.
My first instinct is that they’re Odex, given the size and generally simian stance, but if they are, what are they doing in an IHC facility? Relations between the Ataxian Coalition and the Interstellar Human Conglomerate are in a state of war, given the horrible things that have happened at Horus IV, Armstrong, and half dozen other worlds. They could be mercenaries, but I haven’t heard of any such units operating all the way out here.
Solair moves in close and speaks in a low tone, since a whisper can carry much further than people often think.
“What do you see?”
“I don’t know, exactly. There’s around twenty of them, but it’s too dark to get a good look.”
“Here.” Solair hands me a pair of low-light goggles, which I hastily hold up to my eyes before I take another peek. With the aid of the device, I’m able to make out much more detail.
My mouth gapes open in shock because these twisted abominations are not Odex. At least, not entirely. They have the size, general broad shoulders and long upper limbs typical of that sapient species, but rather than fur their bodies are covered in misshapen lumps of some form of chitinous, ridged armor. And their eyes are different, a rich golden hue much akin to Vakutans.
Then it hits me. These creatures are something in between the two sapients. Whatever was going on here, it was not limited to abducted human women. I feel a swell of pity for the poor creatures, as all of them appear to be hindered and agonized by their half-formed bodies. One of them has to drag a misshapen club foot behind itself, another’s head is so large its neck can barely hold it up.
Meanwhile, some have such disfigured faces they labor for every breath, and peer out of tiny apertures that pass for their eyelids. So, these are not successful experiments. And if they are, I’d hate to see the failures.
“You’re not saying much, Grantian.”
I turn my grim gaze upon Solair and hand him back his goggles. “That’s because what I see is difficult to describe. We are vastly outnumbered, but they lack firearms.”
“I don’t like it. Even if we take up defensive positions, they