Torven examined the controls, then nodded. “Looks straightforward enough. You want to see what’s out there?”
“I want to know what we’re dealing with. Visibility, weather patterns, whether there are any other structures or signs of civilization.”
After a few tries, he found the right commands, and with the grinding sound of metal on metal, the plating began to retract. Dim light filtered in, and I realized that while we’d been working, the day had progressed toward evening. The sky outside was a deep purple color, still churning with storm clouds but less violently than before.
We stood there for a moment, looking out at the alien landscape. The terrain was just as barren and hostile as it had appeared when we were outside, but there was something oddly beautiful about the way the strange light played across the twisted rock formations. At least, I thought so.
“Storm’s calming down,” Torven observed.
“That’s good news for our crew,” I said, then immediately wished I hadn’t brought it up. I could see his skin shifting toward darker colors as the reminder of his scattered people hit him. “And for me,” I added. “Ireallyneed to pee.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “So do I.”
After taking turns to hurry outside and quickly relieve ourselves in the wind, we returned inside and did a more thorough search of the chamber. There was no secret compartment filled with water tanks, no surprise food replicators, and no stash of comfortable bedding.
When I looked up from digging through a trashed cabinet, I got an eyeful of Torven taking off his clothes.
Okay, notallhis clothes, sadly. He stripped down to a tight—verytight—short-sleeved black shirt and his pants and proceeded to take the other clothes to a corner and shake out the sand. I had to consciously keep myself from staring. He was gorgeous in a way that made my scientific mind want to catalog every detail. His shaggy dark hair had a slight wave to it, and after the helmet and shaking it out, it was in wild disarray. His bone structure was sharp and defined, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that looked like it had been carved from stone. His skin was currently a muted bronze color with traces of blue around his temples and hairline,which I was starting to recognize as his default when he was focused and calm.
But it was his eyes that really got to me. They were a pale green that seemed to shift between mint and jade, depending on the light, framed by dark lashes that were completely unfair on someone who was already genetically blessed. Right now, those eyes were shifting to me and I had to force myself to look away before he caught me staring. The male had just risked his life to save mine. The last thing he needed was me ogling him like some sort of hormonal teenager.
“We should set up for the night,” Torven said. “Take inventory of our supplies, choose a place to rest.Starsknows, we both need sleep.”
I nodded, though the mention of sleeping here made me realize just how alone we were. If something went wrong, if we were attacked or if one of us got injured, there would be no backup coming.
We cleared a space in the center of the control room, moving aside chairs and equipment to create an area where we could spread out our gear. The supplies we’d salvaged from the ship weren’t extensive: some emergency rations, water purification tablets, basic medical supplies, and the scientific equipment I’d managed to save.
“Food first,” Torven said, opening one of the ration packs. “We need to maintain our energy, but we also need to make these last.”
I did some quick calculations in my head. “If we ration carefully, we have maybe four days of food. Water will be the bigger problem.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said.
That was one of his go-to lines, I’d noticed. And he said it when he had no idea how to solve a problem. His skin had shifted to a darker gray color. In the short time I’d been observing him, I was starting to recognize his emotional tells. The grays and blues seemed to appear when he was being guarded or distant, while warmer colors indicated stronger emotions like anger or fear.
Right now, he was definitely putting his walls back up.
“So,” I said, settling down across from him as we shared the meager ration, “tell me about being a transport pilot. How long have you been flying?”
“Long enough,” he said, not looking at me.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the answer you’re getting.”
I studied his face, noting the way his jaw had tightened. Whatever walls he’d let down during our trek to the tower were firmly back in place now that we weren’t in immediate physical danger.
“Okay,” I said. “Different question. What do you think of scientists?”
That got his attention. He looked up at me with those striking green eyes, and I saw something that might have been curiosity there. “What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one. You’ve been pretty clear that you think I overpack and ask too many questions. I’m wondering if that’s personal or if you just don’t like my entire profession.”
He was quiet for a long moment, chewing thoughtfully on the bland ration. “Scientists ask too many questions that have no good answers,” he said finally.
“Such as?”
“Such as why we need to investigate a planet thatmightbe the Destran home world, when we already have a perfectly good moon for our Solas.”
