Having walked the surface of moons, and dozens of planets, Rafe should have been nonchalant. Should have been.

Yet, there was something about the excitement bubbling in Emma that proved contagious—and not in an I-need-a-giant-fucking-needle-of-medicine contagious. He’d seen women get excited over jewelry. His own sisters used to bounce off the walls—literally because they turned off the gravitational field—when he visited them before his exile with presents. Their excitement never affected him like Emma’s did.

It was utterly emasculating. So he scratched. Long. Hard. And vigorously.

“You know they have powders for that on Earth,” Emma remarked with a pointed glance at his groin.

“Just adjusting it for comfort, wench. Males of a certain size have that problem.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed the issue you have getting your head through the door.”

Touché. The barb might have scored a point, but he knew how to remain ahead. “I should probably mention you might want to make sure there are no rips in the suit you choose to wear. The slightest hole and you will be forever frozen.”

She chewed her lower lip, her trepidation clear. “I thought you said these suits were safe.”

“They are.” A wicked smile curved his lips. “Most of the time.” He didn’t let her know that he was meticulous about checking the suits after each foray. There were plenty of ways to die. Carelessness and stupidity weren’t high on his list.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she stated as she snapped closures and ran her hands over the fluent, yet very resilient fabric.

“You think you know the secret workings of my mind, do you?” Then she was alone because even he couldn’t have explained his thoughts or actions. Rafe couldn’t deny the fact that he enjoyed antagonizing her. In that, she did have a point. He took special pleasure in driving her nuts. It was the why that plagued him.

“You’re trying to talk me out of walking on that moon because you’re afraid I’m going to catch on that you were lying to me about aliens once living there. But see, the thing is, I don’t care if there was life or not. I’m going to walk on a moon.” Spoken with utmost pleasure. Utmost happiness.

How long since he’d enjoyed a simple pleasure like that?

Man up. You get plenty of pleasure. Drinking. Whoring. Except he’d not done much of either lately. While he might get drunk out of his mind planetside, he drew the line on board. And as for whoring… That also had lost its appeal long before his visit to Earth. It hit him a while back, as he woke beside yet another nameless face, that he longed for what his parents had. The closeness and connection with shared inside jokes, hugs, and laughter.

But that would require settling down. With one woman.

Ugh. No.

And even if he did—he cast an eye at Emma, who craned to peek over her shoulder, checking on her suit—he wouldn’t choose a woman like her. He’d find someone docile, a good old-fashioned Rhomanii girl. Someone who didn’t argue with him. Or make fun of him. Or…

Someone bo-r-r-r-ing.

Exactly. No wonder he kept putting off marriage.

The last closure on his suit fastened, he stood and approached her. “Let me give you a hand with your helmet.”

He plucked it from her unwieldy gloved fingers and fitted it over her head. It dropped into the sealed ring with a click. The gauge on her forearm showed it pressurizing properly. The heat monitor showed the suit functioning properly, and the oxygen supply reading showed proper levels and recycling.

Tap. Tap. Tap. He knocked on her helmet. “All set to go.”

Frowning, she raised her hands to her head. “Don’t do that again.”

“Stop me.” He winked at her before placing his own helmet on and performing the same checks. Last of all, he strapped a pistol to his hip and made sure he put a knife in the sheath on his thigh. He caught her watching him.

“What do you need those for? I thought you said the aliens in this place died out.”

“They did, but only an idiot ever goes anywhere unarmed.” Even on board his ship, he kept weapons stashed in every room. It always paid to be safe. Although he’d hidden some of his more obvious guns and knives just in case he pushed Emma too far.

“If that’s the case, shouldn’t I have a weapon too?”

“Do you know how to shoot a gun or use a knife in a fight?”

“No.” Said almost in a sulk.

“Then we’re both probably safer leaving you without one.”

“You suck.”

“I would if someone wasn’t so uptight.”

Unwieldy gloves didn’t prevent her from expressing herself.

Approaching the locked door, he punched in a sequence on the rigid keypad. A buzzer sounded, along with a click. He cranked the handle for the door, spinning it until it could open. He stepped into the airlock. Turning around, he noted Emma hovering just outside.

“Are you coming or not?”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she took a deep breath. Then another. He could practically see nervousness pouring off her.

“Relax. This will be easy. Nothing to worry about.”

“Says you. You’ve done this before.”

Feeling uncharacteristically sympathetic, he reassured her instead of mocking. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

Taking another deep breath, she stepped into the airlock. The door to his ship shut. The locks engaged as it sealed. A press of a button and he pressurized the room to match the outdoors, all the while watching Emma for signs of extreme agitation. Not everyone could handle the suit.

For some, the thought of having their life depend on the proper functioning of fabric, metal, and machinery was too much to bear. In those cases, panic could not only prove dangerous to the person suffering the anxiety but also affect anyone with them. Much like drowning, people grasped at those afloat, and a severely out-of-control person could cause damage to a suit or themselves.

So far, although Emma appeared nervous, it was of the normal variety that anyone felt their first time out.

When a bell sounded, letting him know pressurization was complete, he moved to the outer exit door, once again entering a sequence of buttons that unlocked the portal. In short order, he’d opened it to the surface of Titan.

As moons went, it wasn’t the most impressive, but on the bonus side, it didn’t kill him. Always a point in his book.

The temperature was cold, cold enough to freeze a body solid in a matter of seconds if exposed. A shame about the whole Popsicle thing because the moon was one of few in this galaxy managing to maintain an atmosphere with hydrogen and other gases that provided the cornerstone for biological life.

There was also moisture on the planet, methane lakes and seas, not viable for him per se, but certainly appealing to other species. While the oxygen content was low, the planet wasn’t bereft of gases like most other lunar asteroids.

He took a few steps onto the stony surface, the ground dry and cracked. The silt and sand formed drifts against rocky protrusions to create small dunes.

“This is fucking cool.” The reverence in Emma’s voice, tinny because it came through an embedded speaker, made him whirl, and he noted she’d left the relative safety of the airlock. “I’m on another world. Holy shit. Holy shit.” Her excitement shone through.

“You know what’s even cooler? Actually walking on it,” he teased, as she remained on the gangplank.

“I’m getting there. Don’t rush me.” She grumbled, but he saw and heard the smile in the words.

She gingerly took a step onto the surface. A second. The third one, more confident than the rest, made her bounce a little. A squeak in his helmet made him wince.

“Watch with the yelling, wench. I can’t adjust the volume.”

“Sorry.” Meekly said, but her face couldn’t hide her excitement. “I wasn’t expecting to float.”

“It’s that lower gravity I warned you about. And, before you ask, no, you can’t float away or jump so high you don’t come back down. But you will notice a difference when you walk. Don’t fight it. Use it to your advantage.”

Nodding, she took another step, a hesitant one. Then another, and soon, she was taking long strides across the flat plane, her giggles loud but pleasant.

She skipped around and returned to the craft, pausing before it, her head tilted back. “It looks bigger than I expected,” she remarked.

“Feels bigger too. Especially if you pet it right.”

“I think your ego has had enough petting. And you know I was talking about your ship. With the exception of the cargo hold, all the rooms are tight, and the halls are so narrow. I never realized how huge your ship was and how cool looking.” She reached out and rubbed a gloved hand over the surface shell of his craft. The faint light didn’t reflect at all off the dark blue/gray surface. “What is this? It doesn’t look like any kind of metal.”

“That would be because it’s not metal. It’s shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me correctly. The exterior is coated in Krolz shit. When mixed with the secretions from a plant on their home planet, the stuff hardens into an almost impenetrable shell.”

She snatched her hand back and shot him a dirty look. “You mean we’re riding around in a poop machine? That’s disgusting.”

“You are going to have to adjust your human sensibilities. Your species are but babies when it comes to utilizing resources, even those considered waste products.”

Even though she wore a visor, he could see her eyes narrow. “Is this your way of saying you’re saving my, um, bathroom activities to sell or use?”

“It makes great fertilizer for the Jukkilna fields.”

“Let’s stop talking about poop.”

“You started it with your ardent stroking.”

“And I’m finishing it. Last one to that giant dune is a rotten egg.” With an exuberant laugh, she launched herself, taking long, bouncing strides.

Having had plenty of practice, it took him but a moment to catch up and pass her. “Follow me. There’s a spot not far from here that we should check out.”

“Is it alien ruins?”

“Maybe.” Or it could be a heavy ore deposit. Or a crash site for another vessel. Either way, it stuck out in the readings they’d taken and begged a closer peek.

While all the sensory data seemed to agree the moon was dead, he still kept a close watch. He wasn’t the only pirate interested in planets with possible ruins. The price a relic from a dead civilization could fetch was not something anyone wanted to pass up.

The surface lacked the color and vibrancy that came from plant life. Everything here was frozen. The sandy surface was gray, striated with bluish crystals, liquid forever frozen in this sub-degree world.

The hump of a dune ahead of them made him pick up speed. He lengthened his stride, building momentum so that he could spring up the hillside, only lightly landing on the giving sandy surface, leaving an impression before pushing off again.

“Show off.” The words were grumbled, and he smiled. Turning at the peak, he expected to find Emma struggling, but to his surprise, she was only a few leaps behind him.

A triumphant smile pulled her lips as she reached the top of the dune alongside Rafe.

“You made it.”

“I did. But am now wishing I’d brought a flag or something.”

At that, Rafe laughed. “Perhaps you can design something with the rocks down below.”

“Can you imagine if I made like an S.O.S. or a happy face?” She giggled. “I wonder what the scientists on Earth would think if they caught it with their telescopes and stuff.”

“I think they’d cream their pants.”

At that remark, her laughter bubbled loud and rich, triggering a chuckle from him. For some reason, he held out his gloved hand to her. “Shall we, wench? Our destination lies just below by that rocky outcropping.”

Forgoing his hand, she leaped ahead, sprinting down the hill, faster than she probably expected given her squeal of “Oh shit. How do I stop?”

He should probably catch her. The last thing he wanted was for her to crash and rip her suit.

Down the dune he sprinted, leaping and soaring in mighty bounds until he caught up to her wobbling and flailing body, her failed attempt to slow her descent. She uttered a short scream as he caught her around the waist and continued his rapid bounce with her.

Arriving at the bottom, he steadied her until she caught her footing. Through the visor of her helmet, he could see her eyes shining and her lips parted.

“That was fun.”

Indeed it was. The last time he’d run in a low-gravity situation, he’d been escaping some indigenes intent on butchering him for food. He much preferred doing it for fun—and exploration.

His gaze was caught by something over her shoulder, something not naturally formed. “Would you look at that?”

She whirled, and because of the audio speaker, he caught her gasp. “Is that part of a building?”

Stepping around her, he approached the rock, jutting from the ground like a jagged tooth. A jagged tooth comprised of shaped stone blocks mortared together to form a wall. The edges of it were smooth, sands and wind and rain having spent eons wearing it down. Still, there was no hiding the fact that someone, or something, had created it.

As he ran his arm over the surface, letting his suit monitors take in readings that were being fed back to the ship, he noted Emma wandering away from him.

“Look, there’s more,” she noted. She reached out to touch a column, partially collapsed atop another wall, the smooth stone gray with grime.

Glancing around, he realized what he’d mistaken for rock was the crumbled remains of a building, one that once probably stood tall given parts of it had managed to remain unburied by the sands.

“Look, there’s a doorway,” she exclaimed as she rounded the corner. Before he could advise she wait for him, he heard her exclaim, “There’s light in here. Oh my God. The walls, they’re glowing.”

“Don’t touch it. I’m coming.”

He rounded the corner and spotted the opening in the rock. Emma wasn’t hard to find, having halted just inside. Inside a room that indeed glowed. It was also much warmer within. How could this be? Sensors hadn’t detected any heat on their sweeps.

“What was this place?” Emma wondered out loud. “And how did it survive?”

He could only surmise the parts that had collapsed around the chamber kept it protected, but he couldn’t have said why the walls glowed. Was it a property of the rock itself? An organism exuding a phosphorescent light? Alien technology that had survived the ravages of time? Damn, if that were the case, and he could find it, he’d make a fortune.

As he ran his arm over the walls, and even the floor in the room, the various sensors embedded in the material feeding the information to Annabelle, Emma wandered around, tracing her gloved fingers over the surface.

“Is it me or is it warm?” she queried.

“It is. You can touch it if you like.”

He caught the roll of her eyes. “Duh. I thought I already was.”

“I mean really touch it. Temperature readings show you won’t freeze. I see no signs of biological entities or bacteria on the walls. Which means—”

“I can touch an alien ruin!” Her eyes widened even as her lips pursed. “I don’t know if I want to.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” he taunted.

“I am scared and rightly so. I don’t see you ripping off your suit and rushing to touch it.”

“Again with the suspicions.” His turn to roll his eyes. “When are you going to realize I have no interest in harming you? Unless giving you an orgasm so intense you want to cry counts.”

“If I cry, it’s going to be because of disappointment.” A fabulous comeback that did nothing to cover her reluctance, a reluctance he could see she struggled with, given her gloved hand stroked the rock.

No trust at all. For some reason, it bothered him.

He sighed. “The things I do.” Do for what? Didn’t matter. He had no problem paving the way. He unsnapped his glove and pulled it off, the air in the room cool, but not unpleasantly so. “See? Not dangerous.” He pressed the palm of his hand against the wall, surprised at the warmth pulsing through it.

Pulsing. And then halting as the room suddenly went dark.

“Uh-oh.” He uttered the words aloud, and she caught the note of worry.

“I don’t like that tone,” she muttered.

“We need to get back to the ship.” He fitted his glove back on as his stomach drew into a tight ball, which, translated, meant get the fuck out of here.

For once, she didn’t ask why.

While the room was now dark, the opening to the outside made a lighter rectangle. The shadowy shape of her body momentarily blocked it. As he followed, the ground under his feet moved.

Not an earthquake kind of movement. Not the ground settling or the building shifting either. That kind of wavy and hump motion could mean only one thing.

“Run!” he yelled, because this dead planet wasn’t dead after all. It had just gone underground.

Emma thankfully wasn’t the type to argue about a life-and-death command. She cleared the doorway, and when he emerged, he saw her leaping and soaring toward the dune. Of less reassurance, the way the ground rippled behind her.

Fuck. Rafe drew his blaster as he ran toward her. He watched the humping of the soft soil and aimed.

Zap. The laser-like bolt hit the moving dirt, exploding it into a shower of dusty sand and rock.

For a moment, nothing happened, and he wondered if he’d scared off whatever traveled beneath the surface. Hoped but wouldn’t bet on it.

Rafe pelted after Emma, who was halfway up the dune and moving well. He pushed himself, taking long leaps, catching up to her just as they reached the peak of the sandy swell. When she would have paused, he barked, “Move that ass if you want to keep it.”

He didn’t follow his own advice. He stood poised on that apex and peered back. Then kind of wished he hadn’t as he saw the numerous bulges tunneling up after him. As he turned to face the other way to begin his descent, sand exploded as something went through the hill!

A creature, serpentine in shape but possessed of pincers and hundreds of legs, hurtled into the air. It uttered a cry, the cry of a hunter.

Emma had to have heard it, and yet she said not a word, the only sound coming through her microphone that of her panting as she pushed her body to the limit.

Brave wench. But too slow. She’d never outrun the creature.

He soared from the peak of the dune, his arm stretched before him, blaster pointed.

Zap. The bright bolt streaked and hit the thing in the back. The intense heat would have pulverized most creatures, but in this cold place, it lost much of its ferocity and only singed, even though he scored a direct hit on the icy carapace of the monstrous beast.

While he didn’t kill it, he did, however, manage to turn its attention from Emma to him.

A single white eye, lacking an iris or a lid, perused him. Ugly, but not as ugly as the row of serrated teeth, hundreds of them, in a mouth that opened ridiculously wide.

“That’s it, you ugly fucking bastard. Keep your eye on me.”

The monster began plowing in his direction, its numerous legs churning the soft sand.

With a yell, he charged toward it, gun held in front of him.

Zap.

Splat!

Apparently, closing the distance and firing directly into the creature’s mouth proved a lot more effective. It didn’t mean he wanted to repeat the experience. One chomp from those teeth, or a squeeze by the pincers projecting on each side, and his remains would be digested and fertilizing this not-so-dead moon. Not exactly how he wanted to go.

Emma had made it off the dune and now ran flat-out for the ship. He could see the ground crackling at her feet, chunks of it heaving, as if pushed from underneath.

Knowing he had a microphone in his helmet didn’t stop him from yelling, “Annabelle! Turn on the surface weapons system. We are under attack! Prepare for emergency takeoff.”

“Attack by what, Captain? My sensors show no heat signatures but your own and the female crew member.”

“Then what the hell is that?” he hollered just as the ground before him erupted. From it shot a rather large nothing with a lot of teeth that he was sure would feel like something if they connected.

It opened its mouth, teeth clicking.

“Thank you for giving me a target!” He took aim and fired. The splatter of alien chunks coated him, the blue blood speckling his visor. “Did you see that?” He couldn’t resist the sarcastic retort to his computer.

“According to my readings, you just destroyed a spontaneously created icicle.”

“It’s not an icicle, you stupid computer. It’s a freaking ice monster.”

Instinct had him diving to the side just as the ground shook and heaved. He hit the hard surface in a tuck, praying he didn’t catch his suit on anything jagged. He rolled back to his feet, noting that Emma had veered away from the door, probably on account of the growing hump before the ramp.

“Grab my hand,” he yelled. She darted toward him, fingers outstretched. They connected, latched tight, and he pulled her to him as the lump before the ramp rose, the one eye staring, pincers clacking. He jumped, pushing hard with his calves and springing into the air. He arced high, but not high enough to clear the monster about to open its jaws. But its mouth wasn’t on top of its head.

A single booted foot struck the crown of the beast and propelled them in a dive toward the open hatch. If he’d jumped alone, he would have landed with nary a stumble. Burdened with a human who clung to him, his feet landed askew, and he staggered. She also wobbled, so she clung to him harder, which ended in them falling in a heap on the floor—inside his spacecraft.

“How you doing?” he couldn’t resist saying in his low, husky voice.

“Monster!” she yelled, her eyes wide as she stared at something over his shoulder.

He rolled off her and to his knees, noting he’d lost his gun during their tumble. His hand darted to the sheath at his side, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the blade would be enough.

The creature’s mouth opened wide, and it stuck its head through the door.

Squish. Flop. The top part of the predator hit the floor, dead—or at least not trying to eat them anymore.

“Access door sealed,” Annabelle’s cool tone announced. “Pressurizing the chamber.”

Something thumped the door to the outside. The ship rocked as many somethings took to pounding the outer hull.

“Dead planet my fucking ass,” he muttered. “Annabelle, get us the fuck out of here.”

“As the captain orders.”

The ship rocked and wobbled, partially because of the monsters and also because of the thrusters that engaged in a push to raise them from the surface. The vessel tilted, and the alien head rolled toward him. He stopped it with his boot. Heaving it, he carried it to a bin that was bolted to the floor. It took him but a moment to secure it inside and seal the unit shut. Better safe than sorry. He’d seen pieces a lot smaller than this one reanimate before.

He turned to find Emma on the floor, seated and in shock.

“You all right there, wench?”

She didn’t reply, shock finally stealing her voice.

The ship’s shaking evened out, but he knew they had only a moment before they had to punch through the atmosphere. No time to snap her completely out of it.

He manhandled her to a spot on the wall and hauled the harness over her head, clipping it into place. The spot beside her was for him. As soon as he’d buckled his harness, he checked the ambient temperature in the room. The ship’s heaters had cleared most of the chill enough that he could take off his helmet. The stench of the gore covering him made his nose wrinkle.

He tossed the helmet to the far side and then turned to look at Emma. She sat just as he’d left her.

“You can take the helmet off.” He told her and yet, at the same time, twisted in his harness enough to remove it from her. It joined his in the corner.

She sucked in a deep breath. Gagged. “Oh my God, what’s that smell?”

“Alien guts.”

“Alien guts?” She said it on a note of incredulity. Then giggled. Giggled hard. Giggled so hard he thought he might have to slap her.

Or he could do something more shocking to her system.

As the ship pushed through the atmosphere of Titan, he kissed her.

And, this time, she let him.