Predator - Incursion by Tim Lebbon Read Free Book Online

around,” he said. “Let’s move in closer.”

2

ISA PALANT
    Love Grove Base, Research Station, LV-1529
May 2692 AD
    Isa Palant needed the violence, the brutality, the fierce atmospherics, and violent electrical storms of LV-1529, to remind her of where she really was.
    In truth, there was no need for her to be out here at all. Terraforming was a slow, dangerous process, and no planet wanted to accept its forced change. She could be safe and sound in Love Grove Base, enjoying the comfortable levels of life support, ensconced in her lab with her antique coffee machine, specially imported roasted coffee beans from Weaver’s World, and a cot so that she could sleep with her work.
    Her work was everything to her, as it had been to her parents. It took up every waking moment and most of her dreams, and that was precisely why it was good to get away.
    “Bit of a bumpy ride coming up,” Rogers said.
    “I have every confidence in your driving skills.”
    “Me, too. It’s this piece of shit rover I’m not sure about.”
    “It’s held it together fine so far.”
    Knowing that wasn’t quite true, Palant made sure her straps were secure, and she held the handle above her seat. They’d had to stop twice on the way out to the boundary, and Rogers had donned his protective suit both times to venture outside and strap up the loose exhaust. First time it was clogged with dust, second time it was split right open, and now it coughed and growled like an angry cat.
    She’d wanted to help, but admitted ignorance when it came to anything mechanical. That just wasn’t her field. Keith Rogers had been an engineer in the Colonial Marines and knew what he was doing. An indie now, he was a vital asset to Love Grove Base. Ostensibly there as part of their security force, he spent most of his time helping the base technicians keep the place running.
    “Couple of miles to go,” he said. “You want me to slow down?”
    “You still trying to encourage me to park up somewhere quiet, Corporal Rogers?” she teased.
    “Miss Palant, I knew from the beginning I had the wrong junk between my legs for you.”
    “Christ, you’re beautifully subtle.”
    “I’m ex-military, as you keep reminding me. We thrive on subtlety.”
    Palant gave her deep, throaty laugh that drew so many people to her. She
enjoyed
laughing, did it as much as she could, and Rogers had proven to be an unexpected source of inspiration. She’d never have believed she could be such good friends with someone who was essentially a mercenary, but he had defied her expectations—humbled her in a way. A scientist, she welcomed every lesson, life lessons most of all. Her parents had made sure of that.
    “Still, maybe a hand job…” he mumbled, and she leaned across the cab and punched him in the arm. “Ouch!”
    “Big hard soldier.”
    “You’re stronger than you look.”
    Palant noticed that he’d slowed the rover down. She smiled. He knew just how much she liked getting out here. It wasn’t only to experience the true ruggedness of the place she had grown to call home, but also to clear her mind. She spent so much time at her work that she had to remove herself sometimes—not only from the lab, its samples, her computers and theories, but also the base itself. It flushed the accumulated debris away from her mind, and lent her a fresh perspective.
    Still, every time she closed her eyes she saw the Yautja.
    “Atmosphere processors,” Rogers said.
    “Where?” She peered through the windscreen. The self-cleaning perspex was working hard, smeared with droplets of filthy rain, scratched with years of impacts from dust-laden winds and heavier gravel thrown by the occasional twisters that leapt up in the vicinity of the base. She squinted, then between sweeps of the wiper arms she saw the first blinking lights high atop the westernmost of the three processing towers.
    The design of atmosphere processors had hardly changed in the last century—vast pyramidal