Chapter 89

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Once inside the airlock, the smell became unmistakable: the rot of human flesh. Connor tossed another glow stick out of the airlock, revealing a stunted cargo hold and steps leading up.

Except “up” was to his right, with the wreck’s starboard side dug into the ground.

He listened, but the only noise was the dull clomp of booted feet on the hull and his own boots scraping along the tilted airlock wall.

In the cargo bay, crates were still held in place in the cargo hold, although the restraining straps looked frayed and rotted. Long, silvery strands crisscrossed the open space. It reminded Connor of the strange spiderwebs Earth bugs had created in zero gravity in their first days in space.

A chilling shudder of revulsion ran through him, despite the heat.

On this twisted planet, he didn’t want to know what created such strands.