She grunted, frustrated; annoyed that the easy way to get past the door was laying dead behind her, blood already congealed beneath the all-black fatigues.
She returned to the body. Perfect: a radio. She pressed a key on her subvocals while she keyed the microphone. A man’s voice spoke. “Control station this is patrol…*static*…Scanner down here is on the fritz. Try the override?”
No response. Still, the door hissed open.
Massive tubes filled the humid lab. Man-shaped silhouettes floated in bubbling liquid. She swiped at the condensation. This one was — would be? — a woman.
She stared into her own eyes.