Chapter 45
“By the way, what’s in the case?”
Wraith pointed at the large, square box in the corner of the hold.
They’d just landed near the mine entrance and were pulling on HZ-rated enviro-suits. Part armor, part hazardous-environment protection. The protection rating wasn’t as good as spacer armor, but what it lacked in stopping power, it made up for in versatility, breathability, and not flash-cooking the wearer in volatile atmospheres.
Kael glanced at the case. His gut tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “Random gear.”
“Anything useful?” She pushed an arm into the HZES, wiggled her fingers in the glove to position them.
Kael’s mind raced through the contents, not altogether willingly. “Not for this mission, sorry.”
“Pity. When I couldn’t open it, I thought it might be where you kept the cool toys.”
“Not so much,” Kael muttered as he pulled on his helmet.
The assistive display popped up in front of him.
He shut it down immediately.
In theory, AD was great. Providing extra details and highlighting friendlies and hostiles with reasonable accuracy. Except that it took up your entire fucking field of view and there was always a half-second lag. In combat, even half a second counted.
He tapped the integrated data pad on his wrist instead, checked the seals.
“Good to go on my side. You?”
Wraith was doing the same check. He couldn’t see her face properly behind the visor, and he found himself wishing he’d taken one last look at her.
“Good to go.”
“Have you figured out what GEO meant by telling you to navigate it?”
There was a soft sigh in his earpiece.
“Maybe. But I hope I’m wrong.”
The mine was hot. Over 50 degrees Celsius if her suit data was to be believed. And Wraith was feeling very grateful for the temperature control in that suit right now.
“How is a dead rock this hot?”
She kept her voice quiet, even though there were no signs that anyone had set foot here in years.
“The filters are still running—I can hear the hum—but they’re pushing out heat, not clean air.” Helios paused, “No clue how that happens.”
They reached another T-junction. They’d been slowly working their way down the mine for more than two hours and were now over eight hundred meters below the surface.
“Left or right?” Kael asked her.
She looked both ways. They were identical.
“I have no fucking clue.”
His slight head tilt was the only sign that he’d heard her. “Let’s take a break,” he said.
He stepped forward and placed a wide cylinder on the ground. Activated it. It flashed once and shone a circle of light on the floor, about a meter and a half in diameter.
She sat down, legs crossed. “So, you did bring some cool toys.”
“One or two.”
She could hear the smile in his voice.
The Variable Atmosphere Portable Oxygen Refuge (VAPOR) beeped. They’d get about fifteen minutes of breathable air.
She checked her suit. O2 levels checked out, and the unit had even managed to cool the air by about ten degrees. It was still going to be hot, but it was better than recycled suit air.
She pulled her helmet off, shook out her hair. Smiled at Helios who smiled back, eyes warm.
Smiled wider when he handed her a water pack and nutri-cube. “You always bring the best picnic food,” she told him, taking a small bite.
“Anything for you, Hunny Bun.”
And she choked, spraying nutri-cube as her eyes narrowed in homicidal disbelief.
Wraith was still glaring at him ten minutes later. Kael was still grinning.
She hadn’t said a word to him, but he was sure that by now she’d plotted six, maybe seven creative ways to murder him.
“The spit take was fucking funny,” he commented. Her eyes flashed.
Make that eight.
She sucked down the rest of her water. Rolled the tube between her fingers. Then smiled.
Not one he’d seen on her before. It was… the only word he could come up with was deranged.
“You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that, Helios.”
The urge to back out of the VAPOR dome and into certain death was suddenly looking appealing. Then she dropped the smile and snapped back into neutral. Which was somehow more terrifying.
“How much time do we have?”
A glance, “Seven minutes. Any clue which way to go?”
She started to shake her head. Stopped.
“These gloves don’t come off, do they?”
He raised an eyebrow, “Uh, no?”
She closed her eyes, took one slow, deep breath, re-opened them.
“When we were on Perdition, I could sense Shade. That’s how I found the two of you near that altar thing.”
“But you weren’t—”
“Integrated? No. And no, it doesn’t normally work like that. I think that damned altar might have helped.”
“Why?”
“It was like a beacon. Separate from Shade and… and distinct.”
He got the feeling she’d intended to say something else.
“You think there is another altar or a beacon down here?”
She spread her arms, “I can’t tell. No offense, Major, but every time I try to reach out, all I can sense is you.”
He smiled. The fucker actually smiled at that. Killing was too good for him.
“What does that have to do with gloves?” he asked her.
Death by awkwardness or suicide-by-Tether?
Decisions, decisions.
The VAPOR unit beeped. Five minutes. It was now or never.
Fuck it.
“Lean forward, Major. I need to separate you from the signal—if there is one—and the only way I can think of to do that is by touch. Cheek to cheek, unless you have a better idea?”
He leaned in and claimed her mouth.
Not gently. No. There was nothing gentle about that kiss.
But memorable? Absolutely.
Another beep from the VAPOR unit. Four minutes.
He pulled back, breath ragged, and leaned his forehead against hers.
“Just in case this is a one-way trip,” he murmured. Then, “Can you feel the beacon?”
And despite the fact that her heart was trying to claw its way through her ribs, despite the kiss still tingling on her lips—she could. And it was closer than she’d thought. Barely a couple of hundred meters away.
Strangely, hauntingly familiar.
And waiting for her.