Numinous

Something other than Kyra and Von is alive on the Dyad.

Like anxious miners exploring an unknown vein, Kyra and Von starred down the aphotic hall, their headlights glassing left and right, an extension of their straining eyes. The dank corridor walls starred back as a thousand beads of condensation reflected their miniature images like the mocking eye of a giant insect. Their thermal skin suits kept them temperate, or so said the teal data floating before Kyra's iris, but warmth, or in this case, bone chilling cold, was more a function of mind than body.

Kyra nodded toward the door and Von powered his las pistol, a steady growing hum of lethality in the mausoleum quiet of nervous anticipation. Time elongated and space felt thick as muscles resisted the invisible strain of adrenalin, an ache stored by urgency for tomorrow. Kyra placed her gloved fingers on the handle and with a turn of hand quicker than Von could follow, opened the door. A dim flow of pale light enveloped Von's raised las like a gentle hand; and where violence was braced, the numinous sight before their focused eyes dissolved the fear in their minds the way a miracle bathes the darkness of heart and soul with light.

Von froze, as if an old eidolon had appeared from the halls of his worn memory, the primrose light reflecting off his faceplate like a hazy projector before his unblinking gaze. Kyra moved forward cautiously, her mind resisting what her eyes were registering. Her hand moved to her comm without conscious effort. "Rog, put Trev and Dr X on standby, now." She walked closer. Von had still not moved. Reaching out like a child for a bubble, she placed her hand on the glass enclosure. A more beautiful female Hynerian, hair golden and shimmering as summer wheat, she had never seen. Kyra plugged into the dataport, checked the feed and then checked it again. This one was alive and from all outward appearances, with child.

Reviews

[AutumnStorm]

You have a gift for choosing the most potent of words within your passages, one solitary example is dank, which combined with an instinctive flair for phrasing, for forming melody with sound, for creating a literary feast that delights and dances upon all the senses to rest then, purring, upon soul makes for a whole lotta lovin going on. Your timing is impeccable, not too much or too little of one or the other, but a seamless flow that captures and enraptures the reader from start to finish. Much as the discovery was surprising, much as it occasions the want to know more, the dizzying delectation comes from the word choices and combinations.