She was right. There were no signs of current habitation. No lights, no maintenance work, no indication that anyone had been here in years.
“What do you think happened to them?” she asked.
“Could be anything,” I said, though unease was starting to creep up my spine. “Equipment failure, supply problems, evacuation due to dangerous weather patterns.”
“Or they all died horribly and their bodies are still inside,” Zara said. “Or they mutated into horrible beasts who will tear us apart the instant we enter the tower.”
I gave her a look. “Not helpful.”
“Sorry. I irrationally theorize when I’m nervous.”
That self-observation made me smile. “You’re nervous?”
“Terrified,” she admitted. “But I figure if I’m going to die horribly on an alien planet, at least I’m doing it with good company.”
Despite everything, I let out a chuckle. “Good company?”
“Well, youdidcrash-land a ship and save my life. That counts for a lot in the good company category.”
I said nothing to that as we had reached the entrance to the weather station. It was a heavy metal door set into the base of the tower. As we approached, I could see that it had clearly been abandoned. There were no signs of battle, from blaster marks or explosions, thankfully, just the quiet decay of neglect. The door was heavily corroded, and long-dead, brittle vines had grown over it in thick, twisted ropes. The vines indicated that at some point, this planet had had a life-supporting environment.
“This is going to take some work,” I muttered, examining the overgrown barrier.
I started breaking off the vegetation, trying to clear enough space to access the door mechanism. Some of the vines came away easily, crumbling to dust in my hands. Others were more stubborn, requiring me to break them with brute force.
“Here, let me help,” Zara said, joining me in the work despite her bandaged hands.
“You should rest. You’re injured.”
“They’re just scratches. I can pull dead plants.”
Working together, we managed to clear most of the growth away from the door. Underneath, the metal was in worse condition than I’d hoped. Rust had eaten through several sections, and the locking mechanism was completely corroded.
“Can you get it open?” Zara asked.
I examined the door more closely. The handle was rusted solid, but there were weak points in the metal where the corrosion had done most of the work for me.
“Stand back,” I said, then put my shoulder against the door and shoved.
Nothing.
I tried again, throwing more weight behind it. This time, I felt something give, but the door remained stubbornly closed.
“Let me try a different approach,” I said, looking around for anything I could use as a lever.
I found a piece of metal debris that would work as a makeshift pry bar and wedged it into the gap between the door and its frame. Bracing my feet against the tower’s base, I pulled with everything I had.
With a screech of protesting metal, the door finally gaveway, swinging open to reveal a dark interior that smelled of stale air and abandonment.
“Well,” I said, staring into the blackness. “That’s not ominous at all.”
“At least it doesn’t smell like dead bodies,” Zara pointed out. “They have a distinct odor.”
“I’m aware,” I replied, amused by how relieved she sounded about the lower likelihood of facing a corpse. “There are worse things out there than the dead.”
“Dogo on.” She nudged me with her elbow. “What should I be afraid of?”
“The living.” I pulled out the portable light I’d salvaged from the ship and clicked it on. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing a small air lock with another door on the far side. The walls were lined with environmental control panels and covered with a thick layer of grime.
