Perhaps it was the effect of the Hexterol, potent as it was, but the rain fascinated me. I stood, breathless, as the drops fell gently on my skin, my hair, running in little rivers down my arms, down the valley of my breasts, down my calves and between my toes. I stared in wonder at the Lincoln ruins, marveling at the beauty of the crumbled building washed in the gentle caress of the rain. For the first time in eons, the rain was safe, life-giving; there was no burning sensation, no light green glow. I marveled at the ability of man to take such a brute force of nature, such a hostile presence, and tame it into gentleness, force it into submission.
I was not the only humanoid deriving such pleasure out of the rain. All around me, humans and Dechronas alike were embracing the wonder of the rain, opening their mouths, casting aside articles of clothing and feeling the kiss of the rain as I had.
“You never told me dancing half-naked in the street was a hobby of yours.”
I turned around, still under the rains’ spell, to see Barant standing behind me, lips in a faint smile. “You never asked. Isn’t it wonderful? Did you ever know water could be so…so…”
“Wet?”
“Yes!”
“I’m glad you're enjoying it so much. But we have a shift starting, and you need to clothe yourself and get to the station with me. You know as well as I that this will be the perfect opportunity for the Sarent rebels to attack.”
I sighed. “You’re right. As always.” I picked up my soaked tamruk and followed Barant to the unmarked vehicle. Duty first.
“It will rain again, Marina.”
Neither of us knew then how right he was.