Necropolis 3 Read Free Page A

leader for the miners back before all this crap hit. Lynch tells me I'm one of the few guys left that isn't an idiot.” He laughed.
    “ She's good at what she does?” Greg asked, fitting his faceplate back into place and turning his oxygen on.
    “ Oh yes. Best administrator I've ever had. She's hard, but fair. She's got a no-bullshit attitude, which you've got to have if you're running an isolated mining installation.” Mike grabbed a pressure suit from a locker and suited up.
    Once they were ready, the pair cycled through the airlock and made for the jump ships. There was still zero activity on the surface, though there were more lights over by the Dark Ops controlled compound. Greg caught Mike up to speed on the happenings of the system while they made their way over to the jump ships.
    “Damn,” was all he had to say when Greg finished.
    Mike went into Powell's ship and Greg crawled back into his own. Kyra and even Campbell looked worried and immensely relieved when Greg reappeared in the cockpit.
    “Christ, I was panicking.” Kyra helped him up. “What happened ?”
    “ I'll tell you in a minute. Campbell, fire this thing up, follow the other ship, we're landing in a hangar. These suits must have a terrible radio range. I didn't hear you at all once we were inside the compound.”
    “ I kept calling,” Kyra replied. “So what happened?”
    As they lifted off the surface and headed for the hangar, Greg relayed the events that had transpired to Kyra and Campbell, who both grew more relieved as they learned that they weren't completely screwed.
    A few minutes later, both ships had settled into the second hangar, which enjoyed a lot less traffic and activity. They shut down the ships and passed a few groups of techs and miners as Mike took them back to the main hangar.
    Lynch was waiting for them. “I've got a job for you.”
    “Oh?” Greg stopped.
    “ Yes. However, I understand that you may want to take a little break. You've got half an hour, so get to relaxing.”

Chapter 02
    – No Rest for the Living –
     
     
    Rest was a dream.
    Relaxation was a sin.
    They did, however, bring the survivors to a shower room and hand over a few medical kits. The place was almost empty, just a few lonely, tired souls showering in their separate stalls. Greg and Kyra recovered a pair of fresh uniforms from the ranked rows of gray lockers. They were dull black uniforms with red trim. The security forces of the mining installation, at one point, had worn them. Staring at the black jumpsuit, Greg wondered if the man who had worn this was now dead. He decided it was highly likely.
    He made sure to find a pair of gloves.
    They didn't need to know about his arm.
    “Come on, we can go grab a stall. There's enough room for two of us.” Kyra took his hand.
    She led him through the maze of stalls, away from the others. Greg was grateful. His mind was laced with a haze of lethargy, making his thoughts dull and muddied. His nap on the ship seemed to have only made his sleepiness worse. They found an isolated stall, slipped in, and locked the door behind them.
    “Strip.” Kyra set the medical kit, uniforms, and a pair of towels on a shelf far enough away from the shower to remain dry.
    “ I'd really enjoy doing sexy things right now, but I think after we get done I'd just pass out,” Greg replied.
    Kyra rolled her eyes. “Me too. I need to check you over for wounds and you need a shower. It'll go a long way towards keeping you on your feet.”
    “Fair enough.”
    Greg stripped and tossed his clothes into the corner.
    “Turn the shower on, wash up,” Kyra ordered.
    Greg nodded, turned, adjusted the temperature of the water, and then turned it on. A cascade of crystal clear, liquid warmth washed over him. The sheer pleasure of a simple shower made him feel light-headed for a moment. It made him question how long it had been since he'd had a genuine shower. It seemed wrong that it had been little over a day or so ago, before