Back to this! Figured out how to make it work better, too.
Tobias looked at the wreck of the impromptu morgue. Although it was more filth than wreckage: very little was actually broken. But the entire room was covered in a thin film of something disgusting enough to require skinsuits. And even then he was wondering if the stench was getting through the air filters.
“Anything missing besides the corpse?” he asked Ward.
“Just Oates’ personal effects,” the doctor replied. His hands writhed, like he subconsciously wanted to scrub them down again, and again. “Whoever did this popped off the storage door on their way out, and grabbed her stuff. Means less than you think, though.”
“Oh?”
“We don’t have much in there besides Oates’ effects.” The doctor’s voice went grim. “If it’s useful, somebody living needs it. If it’s not, we break it down for spare parts. The fabricators are always hungry.”