twice before disembarking after the mission was done and then going on her way.
And yet, here they were, with him deep inside her, replete, her damp skin pressed against his own. Funny how a crisis had brought them together. Funny how he’d grown so close to her—hell, he’d practically bonded to her. They were a team. It was him and her, against the universe. Kaden and Zoey. Together. He loved everything about her. From her smile, to her determination, to her prim seriousness. He loved the feel of her against him and could imagine waking up next to this woman for the rest of his life.
And if he had anything to do about it, it’d be longer than two more days.
Day 6
“It’s going to work,” he told her as she hovered anxiously over his shoulder, eyeing his progress through the helmet of her spacesuit as he soldered wires together, connecting the compressor to the old lifepod aboard the Cephalon .
“You’re sure?”
He could practically hear her nibbling on her lip in anxiety. “I’m positive,” he said again, his tone calm. She was feeling the same anxiety he was. Day six and they were still stranded. They had to get this pod moving and in a hurry. Jump out of the system before that solar storm fried them both.
They were both all too aware of the situation, and it was making things on the small ship tense. Still, even with the pressure of limited time, the run to the Cephalon had gone off without a hitch, the ship more or less whole, just dead in the water. They’d brought the compressor aboard and now Zoey hovered over him as he scanned ancient schematics and soldered in cables, hoping that this wouldn’t all be in vain.
Of course, she didn’t know that he worried. And he didn’t plan on telling her. That sweat on his brow? Simply from the blowtorch, not his own nerves about if this would work or not.
When the last wire was in place and there was nothing else to be done, he turned to her. “Should we fire her up?”
Her eyes lit up. She crossed her fingers and held them in front of his helmet, and then moved to the tiny cockpit of the lifepod. There was no life support on at the moment, and they stood in their spacesuits. They were taking no chances, doing all functionality repairs prior to attempting to power up the lifepod. As the Alcestis ’s computers diagnosed possible problem areas, they patched and repaired. It had taken most of the day, and they didn’t even know if it would work. But they didn’t have any other options. None. So they worked.
He nodded at her, feeling a queasy tension in his own stomach. “Let’s give it a whirl.”
She opened the old, blocky panel of the lifepod’s computer and began the initiation sequence. He held his breath, waiting.
A few moments passed, then a chirp. “Systems online,” the lifepod computer asserted. “Running diagnostic for ship feasibility.”
Minutes passed. Neither of them moved, waiting anxiously.
Then, another small ding. “All systems are functioning at acceptable capability. Initiating life support systems. Gravity now online.”
Breath exploded from his throat—he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Through the helmet, he heard a little squeal of triumph from Zoey and then she was grabbing him by the waist and bouncing with excitement. “It works! It works!”
“It does,” he agreed, still half in shock himself. He stared at the old pod, and even as he watched, oxygen flooded in from an overhead vent, a puff of recycled air. The atmospheric light overhead went from red to green, indicating that it was safe to breathe. “Go and get the ship’s logs from the Alcestis and I’ll work on bringing up the sprint drive on this thing.”
She nodded and bounded away, heading out to the airlock of the small lifepod so she could move to the Alcestis , anchored nearby. The lifepod itself had been secured on one side of the Cephalon ’s deck, ready to jettison at a moment’s notice. Two remained, but the probe had
And yet, here they were, with him deep inside her, replete, her damp skin pressed against his own. Funny how a crisis had brought them together. Funny how he’d grown so close to her—hell, he’d practically bonded to her. They were a team. It was him and her, against the universe. Kaden and Zoey. Together. He loved everything about her. From her smile, to her determination, to her prim seriousness. He loved the feel of her against him and could imagine waking up next to this woman for the rest of his life.
And if he had anything to do about it, it’d be longer than two more days.
Day 6
“It’s going to work,” he told her as she hovered anxiously over his shoulder, eyeing his progress through the helmet of her spacesuit as he soldered wires together, connecting the compressor to the old lifepod aboard the Cephalon .
“You’re sure?”
He could practically hear her nibbling on her lip in anxiety. “I’m positive,” he said again, his tone calm. She was feeling the same anxiety he was. Day six and they were still stranded. They had to get this pod moving and in a hurry. Jump out of the system before that solar storm fried them both.
They were both all too aware of the situation, and it was making things on the small ship tense. Still, even with the pressure of limited time, the run to the Cephalon had gone off without a hitch, the ship more or less whole, just dead in the water. They’d brought the compressor aboard and now Zoey hovered over him as he scanned ancient schematics and soldered in cables, hoping that this wouldn’t all be in vain.
Of course, she didn’t know that he worried. And he didn’t plan on telling her. That sweat on his brow? Simply from the blowtorch, not his own nerves about if this would work or not.
When the last wire was in place and there was nothing else to be done, he turned to her. “Should we fire her up?”
Her eyes lit up. She crossed her fingers and held them in front of his helmet, and then moved to the tiny cockpit of the lifepod. There was no life support on at the moment, and they stood in their spacesuits. They were taking no chances, doing all functionality repairs prior to attempting to power up the lifepod. As the Alcestis ’s computers diagnosed possible problem areas, they patched and repaired. It had taken most of the day, and they didn’t even know if it would work. But they didn’t have any other options. None. So they worked.
He nodded at her, feeling a queasy tension in his own stomach. “Let’s give it a whirl.”
She opened the old, blocky panel of the lifepod’s computer and began the initiation sequence. He held his breath, waiting.
A few moments passed, then a chirp. “Systems online,” the lifepod computer asserted. “Running diagnostic for ship feasibility.”
Minutes passed. Neither of them moved, waiting anxiously.
Then, another small ding. “All systems are functioning at acceptable capability. Initiating life support systems. Gravity now online.”
Breath exploded from his throat—he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Through the helmet, he heard a little squeal of triumph from Zoey and then she was grabbing him by the waist and bouncing with excitement. “It works! It works!”
“It does,” he agreed, still half in shock himself. He stared at the old pod, and even as he watched, oxygen flooded in from an overhead vent, a puff of recycled air. The atmospheric light overhead went from red to green, indicating that it was safe to breathe. “Go and get the ship’s logs from the Alcestis and I’ll work on bringing up the sprint drive on this thing.”
She nodded and bounded away, heading out to the airlock of the small lifepod so she could move to the Alcestis , anchored nearby. The lifepod itself had been secured on one side of the Cephalon ’s deck, ready to jettison at a moment’s notice. Two remained, but the probe had
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