Wrath of the Void Strider Read Online Free Page B

wrinkled digital notebook and leafed through it purposefully, comparing his notes against the Galactic History textbook on his phone.  Absently, he noticed the bright lights of the city as they drifted past, blurred by the downpour.  High overhead, sky cars zipped by in the flight lanes.
    Before long, the vehicle emitted a gentle chime, and a garbled voice began announcing something indecipherable.  Annoyed, he struck the dash, and the voice stopped.  It restarted, saying, “Your destination is up ahead.  Thank you for choosing OmniVoy’s Collegiate Commuter Fleet.  Have a great day!”
    “You too,” Gavin muttered, and he tapped his stylus against a page of notes before packing his bag.  He glanced up as his bubble car slowed.  In front of him was a soaring tower of two-story, rain-soaked dormitory pods, connected by a complex network of pedestrian tubes and multi-directional elevator shafts.
    The vehicle descended a broad ramp and idled in front of a pair of heavy steel doors framed by thick black and yellow diagonals, emblazoned with dozens of warning labels.  A bright blue number “12” appeared under a weathered placard that read, “Your Place in Queue.”  It slowly counted to “1” before going dark, and the massive doors ground open.  His vehicle eased into a softly lit industrial elevator compartment, and the crash of rain fell abruptly silent, replaced by the trickle of dripping water.  Gavin hoisted his pack as an overhead blower roared to life, drying his car in seconds, and he felt the sensation of movement.   At last, he reached his dormitory pod and glided into the awaiting bay.
    Elevator doors sealed behind him, and his car powered down beside a much larger, covered vehicle.  The dome popped open, and he climbed out into his personal garage space.  It was white, smooth and well lit.  Tool drawers vanished almost seamlessly into cornerless walls, and a view screen presently cycled through scenes of halcyon landscapes.
    Gavin took a moment to run his hand over the covered vehicle.  Sadly, he said, “I don’t think I can keep you.”  With a weighty sigh, he approached the entrance to his home.  An embedded green strip light brightened as he approached, and the doorway opened quietly.  He took a moment downstairs to activate the windows, set them to “Starry Lakefront” and went to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of hot and sweet steak dumplings.
    After giving a few hours to his homework and catching up on his shows, he turned out the lights and tapped the feed button on his saltwater tank.  Tiny flakes drifted here and there, catching the attention of a dozen colorful fish.  A maroon clownfish flickered however, momentarily frozen in place.  Static lines ran its length from head to tail, and Gavin shook his head.  “Oh, come on,” he muttered to himself and watched with folded arms. 
    The clownfish didn’t move.  “Damn it,” he huffed, and he switched off the tank’s overhead light.  He made his way upstairs, set down his pack and tossed his work shirt over the back of a desk chair.  Without thinking, he checked his alarm, propped his phone in its case and displayed a holographic clock.  He stripped to his boxers and socks, and he slid under the sheets.
    ·· • ··
    It was still dark outside when Gavin’s phone beeped a message alert.  Sleepily, he lifted it from its cradle and played back his video mail.  The holographic image of an old friend appeared onscreen asking for his help.  When it was done playing, he saved the message and found himself smiling somewhat.  He curled up from his bed and pulled on a heavy shirt, shoved his arms through one at a time, and hopped clumsily into a pair of blue jeans.
    His phone rang, and he answered it.  “That’s funny,” he puffed, and he nodded at the still frame staring back at him.  “I was just about to call you.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Taryn’s stranded at Supernova Express, over in Van Alder.”  He