Why the hell hadn’t the computer warned her about the ice? Even now the vehicle was silent when alarms should have been roaring, the transport computer taking control.
“You can do this, Brinn. Concentrate.”
How the hell could the man be so composed? She gritted her teeth, praying to her god and goddess that she could get control back.
“We’re too close,” she cried.
Her world contracted, time slowed.
All that existed were the slick grip of her hands on the wheel, her rapid prayers in her head and Savan’s deep tone in her ears.
She turned the juddering wheel. Come on. Come on. The transport shuddered, trying to respond.
Then it hit a slick patch of ice and the wheel wrenched from her hands.
The transport careened through the side barrier.
“Savan!”
A strong hand clamped on hers. It was a solid anchor in a world gone so wrong. She tangled her fingers with his.
Then they tipped over the edge into oblivion.
Chapter Four
The cold woke Savan.
Gods, he hurt. Searing cold mixed with pain froze his arms and legs and was crawling toward his chest.
He couldn’t move. Something pinned him down.
He struggled, trying to move his arms. He opened his eyes. A faint red glow filled the transport. Safety mesh held him molded to his seat like an insect caught in a spider’s web.
It had probably saved his life.
He tried to turn his head to check on Brinn, but the mesh held him facing forward.
“Computer, disengage safety protocols.”
Nothing. What he could see of the dash through the mesh was a mangled mess. The computer wasn’t going to work.
He inched a hand down into his pocket and withdrew a small laser blade. His one souvenir from the war. Its handle was well-worn and familiar.
He used the blade to slice through the mesh. He broke a hand through and seconds later was free.
Howling wind screamed through the shattered windshield, bringing with it stinging ice flakes.
“Brinn.” He ripped off his safety belt. Beside him, Brinn’s slim form was held in place by the mesh. Her face was hidden under her hair.
Hair soaked in crimson.
Gods, how badly was she hurt? He cut through the mesh and half dragged her into his arms. Her head fell back. Her beautiful face was covered in blood and hundreds of tiny cuts.
The shattering glass had peppered her face.
“Brinn?”
She groaned.
He pressed a hand to her cheek. “Can you hear me?”
“We alive?” she croaked.
“Yes.” For now. He scanned the thick darkness around them. The temperature was below freezing and dropping.
“Need to get out of the cold.” She struggled to sit upright, one hand touching her face. “Ouch.”
He pushed her hand away, hating seeing her in pain. “Don’t touch. Let me find my medscope.”
He searched for his backpack. No bag. Damn it, where the hell had it gone?
When she gave a quiet moan, he tried to take her mind off her pain. “One day on Perma and I’ve almost died twice. If I didn’t know that you were scrupulously fair, I’d be worried.”
As he’d hoped, she gave a weak laugh. “If I was trying to kill you, Bardan, you’d already be dead.”
“I had you pegged as ruthless the first time I saw you.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes still stunning in her ruined face. “Really? I thought you hadn’t noticed me.”
He stared back at her. “I noticed you.”
They were frozen there for a moment, oblivious to the swirling snow and chilling cold.
His hand touched fabric. “Uh, found my bag.”
He broke eye contact and tugged the bag from beneath his seat. He shook the glass shards off it, then pulled out his medscope.
“Close your eyes.” He flicked the device on and wrapped one hand around the base of her neck. She sat still, her lashes lying against her cheeks. They were shades darker than her pale hair.
The medscope cast a bright blue light over her face. He watched as her wounds closed in seconds, leaving her skin unmarred. He flicked off the scope.
She opened her eyes, fingering her cheek. “Thank you.” Her words were husky.
Unable to stop himself, he reached over and ran a finger down her other cheek. “You’re welcome.”
“We need to get warm and call for help.” She eyed the cracked onboard computer. “Think that’ll work?”
“It’s dead.”
A weak nod. “My Sync.” She pulled the slim device from the dash. Its flexible, clear screen was cracked. “Damn it. There’s an emergency kit in the back. It has a beacon.”
He rummaged around in the damaged cargo compartment until he found a small red pack. He ripped it open. Folded silver emergency blankets, some packaged food and a few tech gadgets, but none that looked like a beacon.
“No beacon.”
“What? I check that pack myself every week. Every Perman knows your life can depend on your kit in this environment.”
The soldier in him analyzed the facts. Fuel-tank explosion. No computer warning on the icy roads and now a missing emergency beacon.
“I think someone doesn’t want us to make a deal for the fusion crystals.”
She froze. “Sabotage?” Fire ignited in her ice eyes. “Who?”
He ran through the options. “Rivals or the elders.”
“The elders?” Shock stained her voice. “Why?”
“They hardly showed much enthusiasm for Rendar getting the right of first offer. They know the area. Could have set up the accidents.”
A vicious shake of her head. “No way. They wouldn’t do this. They were wary of trading the crystals at first but they’re completely on board now.”
He raised a brow. “Any dissenters among their people? Ones who know this road well?”
She was silent. Raw emotions flittered across her face.
“Someone carefully selected that particular corner, Brinn. Someone tampered with your transport and probably set the fuel tanks alight at the spaceport.”
She cursed, a Perman word his lingual implant didn’t recognize.
“Yes, there are dissenters,” she conceded. “But I’d prefer to think it’s rivals. The Tauvi weren’t happy.”
“The Tauvi are never happy.” He studied her healed face. “We can’t solve the problem now. If we’re going to find out who tried to kill us, first we need to stay alive.”
“No computer means no heat. We can’t stay here.” She pushed her blood-soaked hair from her face. “I don’t know the area that well, but I’ve heard the miners talk about an old ice-fishing station in the valley. It was abandoned a few years ago, when we mechanized fishing.”
It should be easy enough to head down into the valley, even in the dark. “Up for a stroll in the snow?”
“We might make a Perman out of you yet, Negotiator Bardan.”
He helped her from the broken transport and they stood knee deep in the snow. The frigid air cut right through his suit despite the specially engineered fabric. What worked brilliantly on Rendar was hopelessly inadequate in the middle of a snowstorm in Perma’s ice mountains.
“There should be an ion light in the pack,” she said.
He searched the bag and pulled out the slim light. He flicked it on. A bright white beam speared into the night. He fixed the light to his forearm. “Let’s go.”
They hadn’t gone far when Brinn stumbled. She slumped to her knees, her red coat caked in snow.
He hauled her up and slung an arm across her shoulders. “You can do this. One
foot in front of the other.”
“I hurt, Savan. All over.”
“I know.” He had his own share of aches and pains. But he had years of experience in ignoring his body’s discomforts. “You can do this.”
When her arm wrapped around his waist, fingers gripping his hip, he felt an intense sense of rightness. He’d keep her safe and get them out of this gods-forsaken storm.
The trip was slow.
Savan couldn’t see much through the eddying snow, and the pervasive cold was getting worse. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore.
But getting them to safety was the priority.
Slowly the gradient of the land evened out. He hoped they were nearing the bottom of the valley.
And some god must have been listening to his silent prayers, because the snowfall lightened.
He leaned down, his lips pressed to her ear. “We must be getting closer.”
She tipped her head up. He felt her lips brush his jaw. “Hope so.”
A muffled explosion echoed across the valley.
They paused and looked back up at the peaks behind them. Even with the ion light, Savan couldn’t see anything in the impenetrable darkness.
Then a deep, ominous rumble sounded from above.
Savan’s frown was savage. “What the hell?”
Brinn’s fingers dug into his side. “Avalanche!”
* * *
Brinn’s heart thumped so hard she thought her chest would burst open.
The rumble behind them grew, like a wild beast hunting their scent.
Eager for their deaths.
Her short breaths came too fast, her head getting light. They’d be smothered by snow. They’d suffocate. Drown under the weight of the avalanche.
Horrible memories burst through her head. Another time she’d almost drowned.
“Hey—” Savan swung her around to face him, “—come on, Brinn. This is your world, you know the terrain. What do we do?”
She looked at him, fighting the panic blocking her throat, choking her lungs.
“Brinn!” He shook her, dragging her up onto her toes. “Snap out of it.”
The command in his tone penetrated her panic. She shook her head. She had to concentrate. Had to find a way for them to survive.
“Give me the emergency kit.”
He slipped it off. She rummaged through it, praying what she was looking for was there. Her hand closed around something slim and metallic.
“Got it.” She held it up. “Now quick, dig into the snow.”
He didn’t question her. They crouched and scooped out a hollow.
The roar of the avalanche intensified.
Brinn swallowed the hard lump in her throat. It was the most horrible sound she’d ever heard. Worse because she couldn’t see a thing.
“Down,” she yelled over the noise.
They huddled in the hollow. Savan grabbed her, pulling her into the curve of his big body. He turned his back to the coming torrent of snow. Like he could protect her with his body alone.
So noble and protective, this Rendarian male. Neither were words she would have used to describe him mere hours ago.
The noise increased, deafening in her ears. The ground beneath them shook.
She rested her thumb on the end of the metal cylinder, praying it did what it needed to do to save them. If it failed, they’d smother.
Savan curled around her tighter. Brinn hit the button.
The avalanche cascaded over them in a mad, violent rush of snow.
Not a single flake touched their skin.
Savan lifted his head, watching the white rush over them. The small space around them was free of snow.
“How?”
She held up the small device. “It’s called a SnowShield. It emits sonic pulses that deflect the snow.” Despite their circumstances, her lips twitched. “And no, we don’t trade it, but we’re considering it.”
Soon the snow stopped moving. She looked up, hoping they didn’t have far to dig themselves out.
“The shield gives us space, but we’ll run out of air if we don’t dig out quickly.”
“Let’s get digging.”
He did most of the work, his powerful arms carving through the powder above them. As they dragged their bodies out into the cold night air, Brinn shivered.
She was saturated and freezing. She eyed Savan’s aramide suit. When he turned to face her, she saw his lips were blue. “You’re freezing!”
He shrugged. “My suit wasn’t made to withstand these sorts of temperatures.” He tugged at the drenched fabric. “Or being wet. Nothing we can do, until we find shelter.”
She stood, fighting to find her balance in the soft snow. She tried to block out the pain in her aching body. “Let’s find the fishing station before something else goes wrong.”
Before someone tried to kill them again.
They stumbled through the deep snow. The journey was agonizingly slow. Much slower than before the avalanche.
She watched Savan’s steps get more and more uncoordinated. “You okay?”
“Fine.” The word was said between gritted teeth.
As they continued, worry gnawed at her. He was barely staying upright and wasn’t accustomed to Perma’s cold. He was battling through the snow on sheer grit.
When he went down and didn’t get up, Brinn fought her way closer.
“Savan?”
His head was bowed. His body shook violently. “So cold. Can’t feel my legs...or arms.”
Fear snaked through her. He was too big for her to carry. “We can’t be far. We’re at the bottom of the valley.”
“Brinn—”
She shook her head. “Don’t think for one second I’m going to leave you here.”
“Find help.” He ripped the ion light off his arm and shoved it at her. “Come back for me.”
She took the light and dropped to her knees beside him. “We both know you’ll be dead.”
“Never felt cold like this.” His teeth rattled together.
“I always knew Rendarians were soft.”
She surprised a laugh from him. The first time she’d heard a laugh from this serious man.
She gripped his face between her gloved hands. The move was clumsy. Her fingers felt like thick blocks of ice. “We have a deal to make. Now, where’s the take-no-prisoners, iron-hard bastard of a negotiator I know?”
His eyes—that fascinating swirl of nebula green—met hers. “That how you see me?”
She rubbed her thumb over the light stubble on his cheek. “I used to. I know you’ve got a will of iron. I’ve watched some of your marathon negotiations. You never ask for a break or recess. You just keep hammering. You don’t give up until you get what you want.”
“You watched me?”
He seemed pleased about that and a tingle of awareness shot through her. For a second she forgot where they were—stuck in the snow and freezing to death.
“We have a document that survived from the first colony, written by an ancient general from the home world. He said know your enemy.”
“And I’m your enemy?” A raspy whisper.
She returned his steady gaze. “No. Not anymore.” She slid her arm under his. “Now get up, Bardan, we’re getting out of here.”
Chapter Five
The buildings came out of the darkness like snow wraiths. Otherworldly. Eerie.
Thank the god and goddess. Brinn headed for the closest one, desperate to get Savan inside. He was holding on by sheer will. She took much of his weight, but his steps were still lurching, uneven.
The only thing keeping her upright was her single-minded focus on getting him to safety.
She dreamed of a hot synfire. Of ge
tting her freezing, wet clothes off. A hot shower and warm glogg completed the fantasy.
She reached a metal door set into an ice frame. The electronic lock was broken and all she had to do was give the door a push. It swung open without a sound.
The ion light on her arm illuminated a cavernous void. She swung her arm upward. Hooks hung from the ice roof. It was some sort of fish-processing center. Her breath puffed in front of her. It was just as cold as outside.
Savan leaned heavily against her, his head dropping forward.
“Come on,” she urged. “Just hold on a little longer.”
He made a low sound that could have been assent. She hurried though the space, looking for somewhere where they could rest and get warm.
At the back, she found some empty offices and adjoining living quarters. They limped into an open-plan living area with attached kitchen.
The sense of eeriness intensified. The fishing crews had just left everything. There were even half-eaten meals on the table. The intense cold had preserved everything. It looked like the fishermen had just left.
“Here.” She dropped Savan onto a sagging couch facing the empty fireplace. She needed to get some heat going. First, she ripped a silver emergency blanket from the pack.
She wrapped it around his shoulders. The small blanket was designed for a slimmer Perman frame and it barely covered his back. Giant shivers racked his frame.
She checked the building computer on a panel near the door. No power. No way to get the internal heating started.
The fireplace was next. She knelt next to it, praying there was some fuel left in the synfire cylinder. She shook it.
Empty.
Damn it. She ran a hand through her sodden hair. They’d found shelter and they still might die.
Well, she wasn’t giving up. They’d just have to do things the old-fashioned way.
Striding back into the main work area, she scavenged until she found some wooden packing cases. Wood was expensive. Only the choicest fish for export would have been packed in these containers.
She carried the cases back to the fireplace and gave them a few solid kicks. They broke under her blows. She shoved the smaller pieces into the fireplace and stepped back.
A Galactic Holiday Page 23
