"Scarlet
Vixens calling Dr Havillund, do you read, over?"
In front
of the pickup, George could see a collection of four sturdy buildings
built among a natural outcropping of rocks. There was a short tower
at the top, with an external ladder leading to the lookout above.
There were a pair of buildings below that. The first had windows at
regular intervals, probably living quarters of some sort. The second
was taller than the first and had fewer windows. There were solar
panels installed on the flat roofs of both buildings.
The last
building was below the others. It had a large entrance door. George
assumed it was a garage for land vehicles. There was a gun turret
above the entrance. Another turret was above the living quarters. It
made sense that they had been installed to protect the facility from
the anarchy of the wasteland.
"Maybe
I should just text him a message," Tricia mumbled. She repeated
her hail through the pickup's radio, using the microphone built into
her mask.
Earlier,
Tricia had told George that Dr Havillund was a biologist at the
facility before him, researching plant life in the wasteland. The
extreme environment had mutated flora to produce new variations. It
was his work to identify and study those new variations.
The
facility did appear to be big for only one scientist working on his
own. According to the Vixen, Dr Havillund had acquired the complex
from another organization who once had business out there.
"This
is Havillund. Good to hear from you, Vixens," a soft voice
greeted through the radio. The speaker sounded tired. "Here for
the regular delivery?"
"Affirmative,"
Tricia confirmed.
"Come
on in."
The
entrance door to the garage rose. George drove in and carefully
parked the pickup in one of the eight parking bays. Only one of the
other bays was occupied - by a dune buggy. That dune buggy was not as
armored as the Vixen's vehicle and had a smaller engine.
Tricia
examined the information on her datapad. "Air's safe here, but
keep your mask on until I remove mine." She checked her sidearm
pistol and climbed out of the pickup.
George
followed. There were plenty of discarded material on the floor -
mostly light plastic. There were a few patches of oil and thick
layers of dust everywhere.
Tricia
buckled on her sword. "On second thought, it may be better to
keep our masks on," she said as she noted the dirt on some
tools.
The door
at the top of the stairs at the end of the room opened. A man stepped
out and climbed down the stairs to meet his guests. "Nice to
have you here, Vixens."
The man
wore a dirty lab coat. He had an unshaven chin and untidy hair, gray
from a mixture of black and white. His hands and face were
sallow.
One by
one, Tricia took out a pair of crates from the back of the pickup and
set them on the floor, one above the other.
Dr
Havillund opened the top crate, picked through its contents and took
out a food cube. He checked the packaging before tearing it open. "I
was starving," he said before he took a bite.
"Don't
you need to heat it first?" George asked.
"Heating
means cooking. I don't have time for that," Dr Havillund said
with his mouth full of paste, "I've other foodstuff but those
need cooking. No time for those either."
The
scientist looked at George closely. Then he turned to Tricia. "Got
yourself a new girl?"
Girl!?
George was sure that he was wearing male armor. And the scientist had
heard his voice. So how could he be mistaken for a girl!?
Tricia
chuckled. "This is Squirt," she introduced, "He's a
he."
"Oh,
apologies," Dr Havillund mumbled, "Well, the Vixens are an
all-girl's team... and you're not very tall... and..."
"It's
a good thing you didn't hit on him," Tricia added.
Dr
Havillund lowered his head. "Yes, that." He glanced at the
steps up into the facility. "Here, help me with the crates, will
you?"
Tricia
handed George a crate while she picked up the other.
George
had got to get into shape. The crate, which the Vixen had so
effortlessly lifted, was really heavy for him. He struggled as he
followed behind the others up the stairs.
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