A heat signature pulsed, a slight smudge of red against the dead materials of the building. The hunched form held a weapon. The datastreaming along the bottom of his visor told him it was a long-distance rifle, an older model that was prone to malfunction.
His finger flexed on the trigger of his gun, then he checked that his autonomous shielding was set to maximum. Not that a rifle like that would do much damage.
Keeping his eyes on the person on the other side of the wall, he touched the controls on his weapon, changing the setting to stun. His orders hadn’t altered since he’d received them. He was supposed to bring them the doctor alive.
The door on his left opened automatically when he approached, revealing a lab. Carver stopped out of the line of sight, and scanned everything he could see from his position: wide windows revealing the sunny landscape beyond, and a bank of terminals, their shiny black surfaces reflecting the light.
He refocused on the person, noting her feminine curves within the scope of the thermal imaging. Her slight form shook, the weapon jiggling in her hand. She stood with her back to the wall, her head moving back and forth between his location and an exit on the other side of the room.
Her behavior was the opposite of the fucker outside.
With a flick of his finger against his PALM, Carver adjusted his helmet settings so she could hear him.
“Doctor Wynn Lambdin?”
Her body stilled, her focus returning to his position. She raised the weapon a little higher, her head tilting to aim over the sight, but her arms shook.
“Who’s there?” Her words were tight, like she was being strangled.
“Your escort. I have orders to take you off world.” He stepped forward, just enough for her to see him, but kept his gun tucked behind his thigh. “Lower your weapon.”
She appeared to have her wits about her, fully human, exhibiting none of the characteristics that he’d seen in the files he’d reviewed on the journey here.
That made things easier.
She wore skimpy undergarments, a pair of white shorts and a top held up by thin straps. Tears tracked down her cheeks, her expression twisted with fear and anguish.
Despite the gun in her hand, Dr. Wynn Lambdin was not a threat. The fear on her face—that was real. No one could fake that.
What had the bastard done to put that fear there?
And he shouldn’t give a fuck. He had a mission to complete—take her to General Cazin on theCorvus. Carver had staked his life on it.
“Doctor Wynn Lambdin,” he repeated, though he knew it was her. Except for the puffy eyes, blotchy skin, and lack of clothing, she looked the same as her picture in her personnel file and the newsreels he’d watched. “ID confirmation required,” he ordered.
She stiffened, then her throat bobbed in a swallow. “Four seven one six two four.” The words sounded automatic, pulled out of her from years of working with the CORE government.
Confirmation materialized on his interface, along with the same picture from before.
“Put the weapon down.”
Eyes wide and red, she stared at him, unwavering, and for a second it felt like she could see right through his tinted visor, though he knew it was impossible. Then she turned her head, her focus shifting to the outside world.
He followed her line of sight. The wall of black clouds swelled toward them, and with it a thick belt of blowing snow. They needed to get out of here before it hit.
Her shoulders settled with a deep inhale. Then she refocused on him, raised the rifle, and aimed at his head. “No.”
Disbelief ricocheted through him, and he had the urge to laugh. No one ever told him no. They begged for their lives; they died before he even knew he was there; they shat themselves in fear. But they never told himno.
He filtered through the information he’d received, what he’d expected to find at this outpost, and how he’d misjudged the situation.
Dr. Lambdin didn’t want to be saved.
He stepped forward, and she twitched. “I’ve been ordered to take you off planet,” he said, his tone heavy with order. “Gear up.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she gritted, her jaw tight and her fingers flexing on the rifle. “You can’t make me.”
“Oh! I see,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Not a problem.”
