She faced me through the sterilisation chamber window; serious; deadpan; her eyes gave away nothing but a hint of distrust; a flicker that was quickly brought under control, leaving grey irises matt and unreadable.
She was the first face I’d seen in six months.
“Martin Huis, Terra-Management Operative 7843,” she said consulting the terminal on her wrist, “My name is Zephyr Yves; Welcome aboard The Mantra Ray.”
Her hair was black; her face a sculpted and pale construct: even if I hadn’t been away for so long she would have been the most perfectly formed being I’d ever seen.
She activated the airlock as I snapping the last fasteners on my boots.
She was the first face I’d seen in six months.
“Martin Huis, Terra-Management Operative 7843,” she said consulting the terminal on her wrist, “My name is Zephyr Yves; Welcome aboard The Mantra Ray.”
Her hair was black; her face a sculpted and pale construct: even if I hadn’t been away for so long she would have been the most perfectly formed being I’d ever seen.
She activated the airlock as I snapping the last fasteners on my boots.
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