Septer set the directions back to base. There was going to be a shit load of a report to write up. How the hell does she explain this one? With her record she wouldn’t get another chance, the executive had been getting antsy – cancelling discovery drives with bullshit about occupational health and safety. Septer couldn’t handle another Interior job – too many people, not enough space. Now she was left with her dick in her hand and a corpse to explain.

She climbed into the submersive and figured that ten weeks of chill should have her refreshed enough to think of a good excuse and far away enough from base to write it up. She pressed a pad on the inside lid and hoses fell down, her supply of supplements for her time under. She hooked the hoses into her implants – one in her arm, one in her belly – and tapped in ten weeks. The cold fluid seeped into her veins, and she had just enough time to shudder and pull her blankets higher before the drugs lulled her brain down into chill’s depths.