Chapter 3

Chapter 3

M attie gritted her teeth as she pried open the vibro-drill’s metal casing, her gloved fingers struggling to gain purchase. The pale Martian sunlight glinted off the exposed wires and gears tangled inside the machinery that refused to cooperate. She glared at the drill as she tried to diagnose the issue.

“Come on, you stubborn piece of junk,” she muttered, and Sylvester tweeted anxiously, echoing her frustration.

She tightened a loose connection, hoping it was the culprit behind the drill’s malfunction, but the machine remained stubbornly unresponsive. Frustration simmered in her veins. How many times had she repaired this drill before? How many hours had she spent coaxing life out of the worn-out equipment? The small inheritance she’d received from her former employer had been enough to get her to Mars and give her a start, but it hadn’t extended to more than the most basic used equipment.

As always the thought of Professor Harrington made her chest ache. He’d been a retired scholar and she’d gone to work for him simply as a housekeeper—something he’d desperately needed since even the simplest domestic tasks baffled him. When he found her reading one of his books, she’d expected him to fire her, but instead he started asking her questions about the material.

Impressed both by her answers and her curiosity, he’d developed a program of studies for her. Naturally it had focused heavily on his own field of geology but she’d found it surprisingly fascinating. They’d spent a good deal of time talking about Mars and the possibilities for mining there. When he’d died unexpectedly, leaving her alone once more, it had seemed only fitting that she use the money he’d left her to make the journey to Mars and establish her own claim — a claim she was determined to make successful.

I can do this , she thought fiercely. I’ve come too far to let a broken drill stop me now.

She reached for a wrench, the weight of it comforting in her hand, and smacked the side of the drill, as if she could beat it into submission.

“Work, damn it!”

Sylvester squawked and fluttered into the air as the loud clang of the blow echoed across the desert, but the drill remained silent, as lifeless as the barren landscape stretching out around her. Her shoulders sagged, the weight of her isolation pressing down on her. There was no one to turn to for help, no one to lend a hand or offer a word of encouragement.

Stop that , she ordered herself, shaking off the creeping tendrils of self-pity. I chose this life. I knew it wouldn’t be easy.

She thought back to the orphanage on Earth, to the cramped dormitories and the constant fight for resources. The professor’s tiny apartment had been paradise compared to that, but despite its coziness, it had still been tight and confined. At least here on Mars, she had space to breathe. Freedom to carve out her own path, even if that path was littered with obstacles like a malfunctioning drill.

She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through the mask covering her nose. She had to keep pushing forward, to keep fighting for the life she wanted. She gave Sylvester an apologetic smile, then turned back to the drill, determined to find the source of the problem. She would fix this, just like she always did. And then she would keep drilling, keep searching for the resources that could secure her future on this unforgiving planet.

No matter how many times the drill broke down, no matter how many challenges Mars threw her way, she refused to be defeated. She was a survivor, and she would keep surviving, one broken drill at a time.

The sound of hoofbeats drew her attention away from the stubborn drill. She looked up, squinting against the harsh Martian sunlight, as a familiar figure rode towards her. J-418 was back. Her immediate feeling of relief annoyed her and she frowned as he dismounted and strode towards her. She didn’t need his help, didn’t want to rely on anyone else. She had learned long ago that the only person she could truly count on was herself.

“Looks like you’re having some trouble there,” he said as he nodded towards the malfunctioning drill. “Would you like me to take a look?”

Yes. Despite her first reaction she shook her head, her grip tightening on the drill as she glared at him.

“I can handle it. It’s not the first time I’ve had to repair the damn thing. I know what I’m doing.”

He raised his hands in a placating gesture, a hint of amusement playing across his hard features.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Miss Carson. But even the most skilled mechanic could use a second pair of hands now and then.”

She hesitated, torn between her stubborn pride and the reluctant acknowledgment that he had a point. She’d been struggling with the drill for hours, and the sun was already beginning its descent towards the horizon. If she didn’t get it fixed soon, she would lose even more valuable drilling time.

But letting him help would mean admitting weakness. Admitting that I can’t do everything on my own. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, but in the end, practicality won out over pride.

“Fine,” she snapped. “But don’t think this means I owe you anything. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”

His lips quirked into a smile, the expression transforming his rugged face and catching her by surprise. Had she ever seen him smile before?

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Carson. I know better than to underestimate you.”

As he moved closer, reaching for the drill with his cybernetic hand, she felt a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name. Gratitude, perhaps, for his faith in her ability to survive on her own. But as his fingers brushed hers, something deeper, hungrier, stirred to life, sending a surge of heat through her veins.

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the rush of sensation. It had been too long since she’d been touched, since she’d allowed herself to feel anything other than loneliness and grief. She stepped back, putting some distance between them as she fought to regain control of her rebellious body.

He bent to examine the drill, his expression turning serious as he took in the mess of wires and gears.

“What seems to be the problem?”

She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, banishing thoughts of anything beyond the frustratingly recalcitrant machine.

“The motor kept overheating,” she explained. “I tried replacing the cooling system, but it didn’t make any difference. Now it won’t start at all. I think there might be a problem with the power supply, but I can’t seem to isolate it.”

He nodded, probing at the wires.

“It could be the filters. The dust gets into everything out here and if the filters are blocked…”

“Dammit. I should have thought of that,” she admitted, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. “I was so convinced it was a major problem that I didn’t even consider the basics.”

He shook his head, a corner of his mouth lifting again.

“It’s easy to overlook the small things, but they’re the ones that’ll get you in the end.”

She nodded, a rueful smile tugging at her own lips.

“You’re right,” she said. “I really should have known better.”

As he set to work on the drill, his hands moving with a surety that spoke of long practice, she took the opportunity to study him. She knew very little about him, but there was something about him that drew her in, something that made her want to trust him, despite her better judgment.

Trust is a luxury , she reminded herself. One I can’t afford.

“It’s not just the filters,” he said finally. “There’s a blockage in the motor, probably caused by a buildup of dust. If I clean it out and realign the gears, it should be good as new.”

She leaned in closer, watching as his big hands deftly navigated the intricate machinery, and couldn’t help but be impressed by his skill. Would he touch her as skillfully, she wondered, her mind wandering to places it shouldn’t. What would his hands feel like on her skin—the warm human hand and the cool metal one?

She shook her head, trying to banish the errant thoughts. This was no time for distractions, no time for foolish fantasies. She had work to do, a claim to protect, and she couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment. But he was helping her…

“Thank you,” she murmured reluctantly, “You don’t have to do this, but I appreciate it.”

He glanced up, meeting her gaze, and there was something in his eyes that made her pulse jump.

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her. “It’s the least I can do.”

She stayed with him as he tried to restore the drill to working order. Trojan wandered a short distance away, his head to the ground as if he were grazing. In a sense he was, picking up trace nutrients from the soil. Sylvester flew over to join him, perched on his back as if he were riding the big horse, and she grinned as Trojan raised his head, quizzically inspecting his new rider. He snorted and returned to his grazing as Sylvester chirped happily.

They talked a little as J-418 worked and their conversation eventually drifted to personal matters. Perhaps because of her earlier memories of the professor, she found herself telling him about that time in her life.

“I only took the job because I was desperate, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me.” She smiled reminiscently. “He taught me so much.”

“He sounds like a nice man.”

“Nice?” She laughed. “Not exactly. He was stubborn, quick-tempered, and far too likely to get lost in his own thoughts. Not to mention the messiest person I ever met.”

His eyes flashed up to meet her for a moment.

“But you liked him.”

“Yes, very much.”

So much that his death had felt like another abandonment, another betrayal. Resolutely pushing aside the lingering grief, she changed the subject.

“What about you? Was there anyone who changed your life?”

He went still, then lifted his cybernetic hand, gleaming dully in the slanting ray of the setting sun.

“This was the biggest change in my life.”

“You were a soldier?” she asked softly.

He nodded abruptly, his face settling into its usual detachment, and returned to his task. The rest of their conversation was carefully impersonal.

“There,” he said finally. “That should do it.”

He handed the drill back to her and as she took it, her fingers brushed against his again. The contact sent another jolt through her, making her heart stutter, and she pulled away quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed her reaction.

“I don’t know what to say except thank you again,” she said, a faint tremor in her voice.

He gazed at her intently for a long moment, then dipped his chin.

“My pleasure. If you need any more help, you only have to ask.”

There was a faint reproach in his voice, as if he were chiding her for her reluctance to ask for assistance, and she immediately felt defensive.

“I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can handle things on my own.”

“I know you can, Miss Carson. I’ve never met someone so resourceful, so determined to make it on their own.”

Warmth spread through her at the compliment, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was as if he truly saw her, not just the tough exterior she presented to the world. It was a frightening thought, one that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, and she quickly pushed it aside, focusing instead on the drill in her hands. She turned it on, feeling the familiar vibration as it hummed to life.

“Not bad,” she admitted grudgingly, and he shrugged.

“I’m good at what I do.”

His casual confidence was irritating and intriguing in equal measure, and she found herself wondering if his skills extended to more than just repairs. As if he could sense her thoughts, a spark of amusement flickered in his dark eyes, and she turned away, her cheeks hot beneath her mask.

“Well, I’d better get back to work,” she said, her voice suddenly husky, but then a thought struck her. “Why did you come back so soon?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, but before he could speak, the scanner on the drill emitted a sharp beep. Her heart started racing as she read the display, a mixture of excitement and disbelief rushing through her.

“This can’t be right,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the controls. “These readings are off the charts. Literally.”

He frowned, stepping closer to look over her shoulder.

“What is it?”

“There’s a huge concentration of lithium just beneath the surface. Enough to fund my claim for the next ten years. But it’s not just that. There’s something else mixed in, something I don’t recognize.”

She pointed to the unfamiliar mineral signature displayed on the screen. The hard warmth of his chest brushed against her back as he leaned over to see the screen. She stiffened instinctively at the contact, but gradually relaxed as he studied the readings. The faint smell of him — a combination of leather and spice and something undeniably masculine — teased her senses. It was an intoxicating blend, and she struggled to remain focused on the matter at hand.

“You’re right. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Her heart raced as she turned over the possibilities. A discovery like this could attract all sorts of attention, both good and bad, but it also meant that she wouldn’t have to worry about losing her claim. She spun around and grinned up at him as excitement swept over her. He was still so close that their bodies were almost touching and driven by the excitement of her potential discovery and the growing connection between them, she impulsively went up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

His lips were surprisingly soft and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, hard world around them. He stiffened at her touch and she was about to pull away when he groaned. His powerful arms closed around her waist, pulling her tighter as he took over the kiss, his mouth hungry and demanding, and she forgot about everything except the desire coursing through her body.