distance Cato had traveled, he knew this one could be Station 3. The prospect opened up a chasm at the pit of his stomach because of what awaited him there. Especially after days in the hot desert sun.
Fifteen minutes later it became clear that Cato’s journey was nearly over as the last smudge resolved itself into the now-familiar outlines of Station 3 and the defensive wall that surrounded it. A wall which, though not entirely intact, should have been sufficient to keep attackers out. Yet it hadn’t been. Why?
With that question foremost in his mind, Cato reduced power and put the skimmer into a wide turn, so he could examine the surrounding area for telltale tracks. But as Cato circled the station, no footprints or vehicle tracks were visible. That wasn’t too surprising, however, given both the scouring action of the wind and the amount of time that had elapsed since the murders.
Confident that he hadn’t missed anything, and reluctant to ride the skimmer into the middle of a murder scene, Cato brought the vehicle to a stop. The machine wallowed from side to side as it settled onto the sand, and the hot metal began to make pinging noises as it cooled. Cato was wearing his sidearm in a cross-draw holster, but because the empath could “feel” a second presence in the area, it seemed prudent to carry a weapon with more clout. So Cato removed the secondhand combat-style pump gun from its scabbard and carried the weapon one-handed as he made his way across the sand-drifted hardpan toward the fortresslike structure beyond. A hot breeze slid in from the west and brought the formerly limp Xeno Corps flag back to momentary life as two dozen stink birds exploded up out of the enclosure and circled above.
The freshly repaired gate was wide open, but that didn’t mean much, since it had probably been left that way by the prospectors who called the murders in. As Cato passed through the opening, he was greeted by the throat-clogging stench of rotting flesh. He had encountered the odor in the past, but never as strong, and never in connection with people he had known.
The first body Cato came across was that of Officer Kath Larsy. She was lying just outside the main entrance to the building, and it didn’t take a medical degree to figure out that she’d been killed by multiple energy bolts to the chest. Larsy’s once-shapely body was swollen by internal gases, and because her face had been made unrecognizable by scavengers, Cato would have been unable to positively identify the body had it not been for the name tag sewn to her uniform.
The way Larsy looked, combined with the way she smelled, brought Cato’s breakfast up. He turned, walked a few feet away, and threw up. Then, having rinsed his mouth with water from his canteen, he made a conscious effort to enter the neutral-observer mode, and went back to work.
After removing the camcorder from a cargo pocket, and clipping a wireless mike to his body armor, Cato began to narrate the video as he shot it. “Judging from the stains visible around Officer Larsy’s corpse, it looks as though the body is where it was at the moment of death, lying faceup in front of the main entrance to the building. That, plus the entry wounds on the front of her body, suggest that the fatal blaster bolts originated from inside Station 3. If true, it would indicate that the prisoner got loose somehow, or that a person or persons unknown were allowed to enter the building. A third, but less likely scenario, would be some sort of disagreement that resulted in a firefight between members of the team.”
Having examined Larsy’s body, Cato pushed the door open, and was nearly overwhelmed by the stench that awaited him within. It was so bad that he was forced to back away and wait for the smell to dissipate before trying again.
Based on the strength of the input from his sixth sense, Cato knew that while the “other” presence was still in the area, he, she, or it was a long ways off. So
Fifteen minutes later it became clear that Cato’s journey was nearly over as the last smudge resolved itself into the now-familiar outlines of Station 3 and the defensive wall that surrounded it. A wall which, though not entirely intact, should have been sufficient to keep attackers out. Yet it hadn’t been. Why?
With that question foremost in his mind, Cato reduced power and put the skimmer into a wide turn, so he could examine the surrounding area for telltale tracks. But as Cato circled the station, no footprints or vehicle tracks were visible. That wasn’t too surprising, however, given both the scouring action of the wind and the amount of time that had elapsed since the murders.
Confident that he hadn’t missed anything, and reluctant to ride the skimmer into the middle of a murder scene, Cato brought the vehicle to a stop. The machine wallowed from side to side as it settled onto the sand, and the hot metal began to make pinging noises as it cooled. Cato was wearing his sidearm in a cross-draw holster, but because the empath could “feel” a second presence in the area, it seemed prudent to carry a weapon with more clout. So Cato removed the secondhand combat-style pump gun from its scabbard and carried the weapon one-handed as he made his way across the sand-drifted hardpan toward the fortresslike structure beyond. A hot breeze slid in from the west and brought the formerly limp Xeno Corps flag back to momentary life as two dozen stink birds exploded up out of the enclosure and circled above.
The freshly repaired gate was wide open, but that didn’t mean much, since it had probably been left that way by the prospectors who called the murders in. As Cato passed through the opening, he was greeted by the throat-clogging stench of rotting flesh. He had encountered the odor in the past, but never as strong, and never in connection with people he had known.
The first body Cato came across was that of Officer Kath Larsy. She was lying just outside the main entrance to the building, and it didn’t take a medical degree to figure out that she’d been killed by multiple energy bolts to the chest. Larsy’s once-shapely body was swollen by internal gases, and because her face had been made unrecognizable by scavengers, Cato would have been unable to positively identify the body had it not been for the name tag sewn to her uniform.
The way Larsy looked, combined with the way she smelled, brought Cato’s breakfast up. He turned, walked a few feet away, and threw up. Then, having rinsed his mouth with water from his canteen, he made a conscious effort to enter the neutral-observer mode, and went back to work.
After removing the camcorder from a cargo pocket, and clipping a wireless mike to his body armor, Cato began to narrate the video as he shot it. “Judging from the stains visible around Officer Larsy’s corpse, it looks as though the body is where it was at the moment of death, lying faceup in front of the main entrance to the building. That, plus the entry wounds on the front of her body, suggest that the fatal blaster bolts originated from inside Station 3. If true, it would indicate that the prisoner got loose somehow, or that a person or persons unknown were allowed to enter the building. A third, but less likely scenario, would be some sort of disagreement that resulted in a firefight between members of the team.”
Having examined Larsy’s body, Cato pushed the door open, and was nearly overwhelmed by the stench that awaited him within. It was so bad that he was forced to back away and wait for the smell to dissipate before trying again.
Based on the strength of the input from his sixth sense, Cato knew that while the “other” presence was still in the area, he, she, or it was a long ways off. So
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