She laughed softly. “Me too. But we should probably focus on the matter at hand.”
“Which matter?” His thumb traced a distracting circle on her hip. “There are many matters I would like to attend to.”
The double meaning was obvious despite his imperfect language, and heat flooded her cheeks.
“The mining matter,” she clarified, but she didn’t step away. Instead, she leaned into him, letting herself enjoy the sensation of his body against hers.
“Ah.” He straightened reluctantly, but his hands remained on her waist. “The mineral. You will go there?”
“If I can figure out how to access the deposits.” She forced her brain back to practical matters. “The area you indicated is too deep for my equipment to reach, even if the rig was still intact. But still have the old equipment I started with, and if I can find a natural fissure or an old passage…”
Her words trailed off as a thought struck her. She spun back to the tablet, pulling up the geological surveys of the region. There was something here, something she’d overlooked in her initial analysis. A thermal anomaly that had been dismissed as a survey error because it didn’t align with current tectonic activity.
But what if it wasn’t an error? What if it was exactly what he was describing—a remnant of the ancient Martian geological activity, a place where heat still rose from the depths?
“I think I know how to get there,” she said slowly.
He moved to stand beside her, peering at the display with interest. “Show me.”
For the next hour, she explained her plan, watching his face light up with understanding as she connected the dots between his memories and her data. The excitement building between them was not just the thrill of discovery, but something more intimate.
“We make a good team,” she said when she’d finished.
“Yes,” he agreed, but there was something in his tone made her look at him more closely. “What is it?”
“This is the first… future I have imagined.” He hesitated. “With you. I see a future with you.”
She reached up, tracing the line of his jaw, and felt the rough texture of his scales contrasted with the smoothness of his lips.
“That’s what I want too,” she whispered. “A future. With you.”
“I—” He broke off abruptly, his head tilting. “Your heater is dying.”
“What?” Now that he mentioned it, she realized that the temperature had been dropping for some time. Her breath had started to hang visible in the dim light and the walls seemed to radiate cold instead of merely containing it. She pulled her thermal jacket tighter and went to check the readouts, her stomach sinking at the numbers.
“This isn’t good.”
The habitat’s environmental systems had been designed for standard polar conditions, but the temperature outside had plummeted far below normal parameters, and the heater was losing the battle.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“The cold’s overwhelming the heating system. We’re losing about two degrees an hour.” She tapped at the controls, trying to coax more output from the struggling unit. “If this keeps up, we’ll hit freezing inside within six hours.”
The thought sent a spike of fear through her. She could survive cold, but not indefinitely, and not if the storm lasted more than another day, which the readings suggested it might. He immediately came to stand next to her, heat radiating from him like a furnace.
“You are cold,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“I’m fine for now. But if?—”
“You are cold,” he repeated, and before she could protest, he’d wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. The warmth was immediate and startling, soaking through her jacket like sunshine.
“Adjar—”
“The heating machine is failing. I am not.” His tone brooked no argument. “Come. We will share warmth.”
He guided her towards the bunk with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his size, and she found herself too tired and too cold to protest. The events of the day—the near-death experience, the emotional conversation, and the constant stress of survival—had drained her reserves.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But only because hypothermia is a terrible way to die.”
