Chapter 5
ZARA
The first thing I noticed when we stepped into the main chamber was how much warmer it was than outside, and, of course, the lack of wind.
My whole body sort of sagged in relief at no longer having to constantly stay braced and feel the chill biting through my layers of clothing.
I plunked my pack down on the floor and rolled my shoulders.
Torven looked at the device on his arm and checked the readings. “Oxygen levels are within normal range,” he announced. “Temperature should be comfortable for you. Whatever filtration system they had here, it’s still working.”
“Good,” I said, immediately reaching up to remove my helmet.
“This thing was so scratched up, I couldn’t see much.
That’s why I had to keep asking you if we were getting close.
” The air was stale and musty, but it was breathable.
More importantly, it didn’t smell like death or decay, which had been a genuine concern of mine.
He followed suit, pulling off his helmet and shaking his head like a wet puppy. It was curiously adorable. He pulled in a deep breath. “My visibility wasn’t much better,” he said. “I just aimed us toward the big black thing.”
The dark was bugging me out. I was a devout fan of modern conveniences, and even though the circumstances were not optional, and I understood that, the darkness made my heart beat faster and my jaw clench. “Do you have another flashlight?” I asked.
He started shrugging out of his heavy coat. “I put one in your pack. Outside pocket.”
“Thanks.” I dug around, found the small device, and flicked it on. The white beam of light that came from it soothed me instantly.
“What’s our situation?” he asked, seemingly more to himself than to me, as he asked it while running his flashlight over the control panels and consoles that lined one curved wall.
I was hungry, I had to pee, and I felt like there was sand in every orifice of my body, but I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus. “From what I can see, the basic life support systems are functional, but everything else looks like it’s been deteriorating for years.”
The chamber we were in appeared to be some kind of control room.
Banks of dark screens lined the walls, and there were several workstations arranged in a rough circle around the center of the space.
Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, but the underlying technology looked sophisticated.
“No sign of food or water supplies that I can see,” I continued, doing a more thorough visual sweep. “But there might be storage areas elsewhere in the tower.”
Torven nodded and moved toward what looked like a transport shaft on one side of the room. “Lift?” he asked, pressing a few buttons on the control panel.
Nothing happened.
“Dead,” he confirmed. “But there’s a staircase.”
I followed his gaze to where a metal stairway spiraled upward into darkness along the tower’s inner wall. The steps looked sturdy enough, but the thought of climbing into that black void made my stomach clench with unease.
“Maybe we should focus on getting this level functional first,” I suggested. “If we can restore power, we might be able to access the tower’s data systems. Find out what happened here.”
“Agreed. Any ideas on the power situation?”
I moved to one of the workstations and started examining the control panels. Most of the displays were dark, but a few showed faint readings that suggested some kind of backup power was still functioning.
“There,” I said, pointing to a readout that showed fluctuating energy levels. “Wind power. The whole tower must have been designed to harvest energy from the atmospheric turbulence.”
“Makes sense,” Torven said, moving to stand beside me. “With storms like the one we just survived, there’d be plenty of kinetic energy to tap into.”
I was acutely aware of his proximity as we worked together to trace the power systems. He smelled like leather and metal and something indefinably masculine that made my pulse quicken. It was not an appropriate time for such feelings.
Focus, Zara. You can admire the scenery later, if you both survive long enough for there to be a later.
“If we can reroute some of the backup power reserves,” I said, studying the schematics that were slowly appearing on one of the functional displays, “we might be able to bring the main lighting online.”
He squinted at the words that accompanied the diagrams. “Can you read that?”
The characters were in a language completely foreign to me, and I was fluent in six languages, including Destran—without using my implanted translation device.
Which gave me headaches. But that wasn’t the point.
“Nope, but I don’t need the words with the images.
Schematic diagrams are clear and precise, and I can understand them. ”
“Well, I can’t.” He glared at the schematics. “They look nothing like anything I’ve seen before.”
“I’m guessing you’re used to the style of schematics in our quadrant.
” I nodded and moved through the images, one by one, getting a feel for the power setup of this tower.
“This isn’t my specialty, either, but I’ve worked with equipment from so many corners of the galaxy, I’m used to different presentations.
” I looked up at him. “Will you help me with this?”
“Tell me what you need me to do.”
For the next hour, we worked together to restore basic functionality to the control room. And I mean basic. Torven proved to be surprisingly adept with technical systems, following my instructions without commentary. As a transport ship captain, he’d done emergency repair work before.
“Try it now,” I said, after we’d finished rewiring the main power distribution hub.
Torven activated the lighting controls, and suddenly the chamber had light. It wasn’t bright enough to read by, but it was infinitely better than relying on our portable lights.
“Not bad for a couple of amateurs,” I said, feeling genuinely pleased with our accomplishment.
“Speak for yourself,” Torven replied, but there was something that might have been amusement in his voice. “I’ve had to repair more systems than I care to count. Just not…alien systems.”
I was about to ask him about that when I noticed another set of controls near the main window. The window itself was completely covered by metal plating, blocking any view of the outside.
“Think we can get that open?” I asked, pointing to the covered window.
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. “I really need 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, not all his clothes, sadly. He stripped down to a tight—very tight—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. Stars knows, 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.