8
The breathing apparatus hissed again as I drew a breath to ask a question. The smell of fruit was strong. A thick, woolen cap protected my head under the fully enclosed hazard suit. The inside of the helmet was hot, and I began to sweat. “Doctor, what are those?” I asked, pointing to the round pods that dotted the landscape.
Above the door of each was the same word: “Decon.”
“Decontamination pods, Lady Allison, for gladborn coming away from the frontier.” Doctor Melissa Ely, Ciprian Frontier Coordinator for Strange Harvest, Incorporated, hadn't looked away from the path ahead. She drove the gravcart with a sure hand.
Jason, on her other side, glanced at one of the pods and turned his helmeted head back toward the approaching frontier. I had seen it many times, but never this close. I
