Prince of Time

“I need to check the main generator,” he told her, wishing she could follow what he was saying.

Cassie hung back as they approached the data analyzers. He reassured her with calm words before shining the light on the partition beyond. She nodded tightly as they skirted the machines that had given her the shock.

Although his manner was brisk as he reached for the access panel, she tensed.

They both let out a little sigh when the door came open without incident. Using the light, he examined the station controls and the specification charts. He could see from the schematic that there were three solar-powered units attached to electrical storage grids. Two were completely drained from a recent malfunction. The third was operating a few essential systems—like air purification—and automatically conserving energy for an emergency. Perhaps the damage to the power units could even explain the shock she’d gotten.

He pointed to the schematic and indicated the power source. “Sun.”

Cassie nodded vigorously, and he wondered if she really understood about solar collectors and electrical conversion.

He continued the explanation for himself, since he knew she couldn’t possibly follow. “The solar collectors are rapid recovery units. Let’s hope power is restored to something approaching normal when the sun comes out in the morning.”

She seemed reassured by his even tones. Or maybe she’d simply observed that he wasn’t dashing for an escape hatch.

He struggled to mask his frustration. It was one thing to play sexy little games with this woman. It was quite another to get some real answers out of her.

“How did you break in here? What is happening outside?” he demanded, wishing she could tell him what he needed to know as he pointed toward the door. Yet what did it matter what she said? He couldn’t afford to trust her.

“I guess were going to have to take a look,” he said in clipped tones, pulling her toward the door. They both shivered in the icy air wafting toward them.

“C-o-l-d,” Cassie said in her own language, giving the observation teeth-chattering emphasis he had no trouble comprehending.

He repeated the temperature appraisal. “Cold.” Next they’d be discussing the barometric pressure and the projected global weather forecast.

She darted back to the makeshift bed, retrieved a blanket and draped it over his shoulders. “Warm.”

“Warm.” Two brilliant new concepts, he congratulated himself, feeling ridiculous huddling under a shawl like an old woman. But he conceded the virtue of prudence. And dignity. If someone was waiting outside, he didn’t want to greet them looking as if he’d tottered from a sickbed. Opening a supply cabinet, he began to search for something more substantial than a technician’s coat. He was rewarded with a cache of silver knit pants and shirts—the expedition’s standard issue.

When he threw off the blanket and started to unbutton the thin coat, she turned quickly away. He’d forgotten about her ridiculous nudity taboo.

Stomping into the grooming alcove, he shucked off the coat and pulled on the pants and shirt. He followed with a pair of thermal socks, wishing he could add boots.

When he came out, she nodded her approval.

He didn’t want her approval. Ignoring her, he marched back to the entrance. Ice seemed to seep through the bottoms of his feet as he and Cassie made their way down the tunnel. The passage ended at a broken doorway that he could see had been camouflaged as rock.

When he started to shoulder through, Cassie said something that began with “Av—”

Ignoring her, he stepped through the ruined barrier. Almost immediately, he halted in surprise. He was in a long, narrow cave—so long that it swallowed up the flashlight beam. The wall from which he’d emerged was of dark rock. The facing one was made of snow.

So how had Cassie gotten in? He wasn’t about to let her start drawing pictures again. He wasn’t going to trust anything besides his own observations. For a moment he stood, listening to the utter silence. Then, doggedly ignoring the cold, he made his way down the tunnel between the black rock and the white snow.

Cassie kept pace with him, talking all the while. When he ignored her, she grabbed his sleeve and yelled, “Klat!”

The curse got his attention. He stopped short and turned. She gave him an exasperated look.

After a moment, she repeated a word she’d used before. “Avalanche.” First she pointed to the snow. Then rolling her hands in a circle, she swept them in a downward motion. Looking behind her, she pretended to run. Finally she put her arms over her head and huddled down, protecting herself from the onslaught.

“Avalanche,” she said again. “Understand?”

“Avalanche,” he repeated, finally picturing what had happened. Snow had come roaring down the mountain toward her, and she’d taken refuge against the rock face.

“Understand?” she asked again.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

It was their longest conversation. Too bad he was almost as articulate as an illiterate camel driver.

However, Cassie looked pleased. Taking a step back, she raised her arms and stretched, as if to dissipate some of her tension. Her hands slammed into the wall of white that hung over her.

Quickly she pulled them back. But the damage was already done. Recently settled snow began to tumble down on top of her so quickly that Thorn barely had time to gasp out a useless warning. One minute she was in front of him gesticulating. In the next, she had disappeared, buried under an enormous pile of freezing whiteness.

Chapter Four

A mixture of fear and astonishment wrenched through Thorn as he stared at the place where Cassie had been standing moments ago. His first reckless impulse was to toss the flashlight aside and start digging her out with both hands. Instead he clenched the cold metal tube. The blasted cave was pitch-dark; he needed to see what he was doing.

Using up a few precious seconds, he scraped together a little pile of snow and made a stand for the light so that the beam was positioned in the right direction.

There was no margin for error, he thought with a grimace as he started to dig with the only tools he had. Almost at once his fingers grew icy. He ignored the numbing pain and scraped away at the snow, alternately cursing himself, calling Cassie’s name and gasping drafts of air into his lungs.

His whole body was shivering violently from the cold. No, more than the cold. His head spun. He knew he was in no shape for the unexpected exertion. But somehow he kept digging. Because he had to get the snow off of Cassie before she suffocated. So he continued to toss white clouds behind him as he worked in the semidarkness and to pray that he wouldn’t be too late.

It seemed to take forever. It was probably less than a minute when he felt something harder than the recently settled snow. Not rock. Something that yielded to his touch, although with his hands numb from the cold, he couldn’t tell much.

He saw the bright pink outerwear covering Cassie’s back and gave silent thanks as he corrected the direction of his search. Redoubling his efforts, he scooped like a madman. His fingers slid off her shoulder. He dug lower and hooked his hand around her arms, giving a mighty tug. One arm came free. Immediately she began to dig, too, and he knew what he’d only sensed before. She didn’t give up easily.

With a sigh of relief, he brushed the snow away from her nose and mouth. She shook her head and sucked in a gasp of air that ended with his name. Her face was white and etched with terror. Yet her eyes were focused squarely on him as if she couldn’t believe that he’d gotten her out.