Page 25 of Snowed In With Jack Frost
“We take what we need from here.” I’m already pulling critical components from the navigation array, loading them into a portable repair kit. “The quantum matrix cores, the interface modules, diagnostic equipment. We rebuild the navigation system in your garage using your capacitor as the primary component.”
“That’s possible?”
“It will have to be.” Emergency signals are getting louder, more urgent. “The search teams are less than a kilometer away.”
She nods grimly, helping me gather essential components. “How long do we have once we reach the garage?”
“A few hours. Maybe much less, depending on how well Earth technology integrates with Xarian quantum systems.” I seal the portable kit, the weight of it representing our only chance of success. “Are you ready?”
But before she can answer, the ship’s proximity alarms scream to life.
Through the hull, I can hear voices getting closer. Much closer.
“Movement to the north—”
“Check that tree line—”
“Something’s wrong with my readings—”
Fiona’s eyes meet mine, wide with sudden understanding of how little time we have left.
“Run,” I whisper.
7
Heat Under Pressure
Fiona
Wemakeitbackto the garage without being seen, though my heart doesn’t stop hammering until Ja’war seals the door behind us and I hear the familiar click of my security locks engaging. Home. Safe. For now.
The silence stretches between us, loaded with everything we haven’t said since that kiss in his ship. Since I told him I was in this withhim. Since he looked at me like I was the answer to questions he’d been afraid to ask.
“The workbench,” I manage, my voice rougher than I intended. “We can spread everything out there.”
He moves past me, close enough that his scent—something like winter air and warm metal—makes my hindbrain purr with want. The alien components catch the fluorescent light as he unpacks them, crystalline structures that pulse with their own inner glow.
“This is incredible,” I breathe, reaching for what looks like a power distribution hub. My fingers brush his as we both reach for the same component, and the contact sends electricity straight through my nervous system. “I mean, I knew alien tech would be advanced, but this is like...”
“Like what?” His voice has dropped to that low rumble that does things to my knees.
“Like magic and science had a baby.” I examine the crystalline matrix at the heart of the quantum processor, then trace the support systems around it—power regulators, cooling channels, interface ports. “I can’t touch your quantum core, but all this infrastructure...” I point to the damaged power couplings and thermal management systems. “This I understand.”
“Here.” His hand covers mine, guiding my fingers to trace the energy pathways feeding into the quantum processor. “The core requires precise power regulation and thermal stability. Your capacitor could stabilize the power fluctuations, but the cooling system...”
His explanation is technical, professional, but I can feel the careful control in his touch, the way his breath catches when my hair brushes against his jaw. After three years of watching me, after confessing tofated mate biology, after that kiss that nearly incinerated us both—the air between us feels charged with more than just quantum energy.
“The thermal management is fried,” I say, studying the blackened cooling channels with growing excitement. “But I can jerry-rig something. Your quantum processor is like a high-performance engine—it needs clean power and proper cooling or it’ll cook itself.” I look up at him, proud of how steady my voice sounds when everything in me wants to turn around and see if his eyes are as heated as his voice suggests. “The physics are alien, but the engineering problems? Those are universal.”
“We’ll need to modify the interface points.” He steps back, putting professional distance between us that feels both necessary and devastating. “Create adapters that bridge Earth electrical systems with Xarian power regulation. Delicate work.”
Delicate work. Like everything between us—one wrong move and it all explodes.
For the next twenty minutes, we fall into focused harmony. Ja’war explains the quantum processor’s requirements while I figure out how to make my mechanic's equipment support systems that operate on principles I barely understand. Power regulation, thermal management, interface stability—these are problems I can solve.
Every time he leans over to show me how the quantum core interfaces with the support systems, I catch that winter-metal scent that makes my pulse jump. Every time our fingers accidentally touch while handling power couplings, heat rockets through me that has nothing to do with the electronics. And every time I look up to find him watching me work with those too-intense pale eyes, I remember that this alien has been obsessing over me for three years.
“Try connecting it now,” he says as I finish jerry-rigging a thermal regulation bypass using my capacitor and some creative wiring.
