"That is not a research laboratory."
Lucas Hill's statement hung suspended in the air like an invisible blade, severing the fragile silence of the room. The rain continued to pour heavily outside, each drop battering against the glass like aimless fingers endlessly tapping out a telegram that would never receive a reply.
Lucas Hill massaged his temples, the raindrops from his soaking wet hair were still trailing down both shoulders of his jacket, forming dark streaks across the fabric. He had not even had the time to change his clothes or dry himself off, because the chill of the rainy night was absolutely nothing compared to the freezing cold radiating from the lines of data that had just appeared right before his eyes: "These coordinates are not located within any research system or military base. It is a biological transport facility disguised under the name of a private medical preservation center, situated right next to the St. Lawrence seaport."
