The heavy silver-steel blast doors of the dorsal airlock hissed shut. It was followed by the deep, rhythmic clunk-thud of the air-powered deadbolts locking into place. Inside the decontamination entry hall, high-pressure nozzles washed the crew in swirling torrents of chilled cold air gas, stripping away the clinging solar dust, spark-charged carbon soot, and traces of alien ichor before the chamber repressurized with life-giving oxygen.
Arthur unlatched his heavy EVA helmet, pulling it off with a deep, ragged breath. The cabin air tasted of cold copper, filtered oxygen, and machine oil. A blessed, grounded relief after the choking, two-million-degree fire outside. He shook his sweat-drenched hair, wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, and right away knelt on the rubberized deck matting to inspect his companions.
Grimm was sprawled across the floor, his massive black ribs heaving as his long, pink tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. The hound’s dense, carbon-honeycomb bones were streaming intense heat, like an iron anvil fresh from the forge. Beside him, Vesper leaped gracefully atop a stainless-steel storage locker, sitting tall and aloof as she carefully licked her front paws, smoothing down the silver-tipped guard hairs along her forearms with fastidious feline dignity.
