Thirty-Nine
I overrode the suit’s screeching alarms, braced myself for a hideous stench, and unfastened the helmet.
Earth air gushed out. Over-neutroned Tritium air flooded over me.
The cave smelled like newly fallen roses. Sweetness with just a hint of decay. My college dorm room often smelled worse. The school cafeteria always did.
Gunfire pulled the helmet from my hands and set it on the sand behind him.
My hands were already moving over the suit seals running down my breastbone. The gloves were not meant for speed, but the closing toggles were sized for the gloves.
Gunfire was already shuffling behind me, to catch the back of the suit.
Shocking cool air washed over my bare skin. The chafed skin around my neck burned and prickled. Was I bleeding? Had I pulled off scabs? No way to
