Alone on the escarpment, Burkhart lifted the binoculars back to his eyes and resumed studying the base.

There was much yet that he wished to observe.

Cold Corners Base

“I really feel responsible for you being stranded,” Megan said. “Sorry, Russ.”

Granger was careful not to show his uneasiness.

“You didn’t call in the storm,” he said.

“No, but I did call you, even knowing it was on the way.” She shook her head, her shoulders moving up and down. “Guess I’d been anxious for Pete to make it to the pass and take a look-see.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Granger coerced an accepting smile out of himself. “There isn’t much difference whether I’m wheels-down at Cold Corners or MacTown. And from what they told me over the radio, our field camps are in fair enough shape for the duration. So it’s not as if my detour caused any harm.”

Megan looked at him a moment, then nodded.

“Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that the weather blows over fast,” she said. “Meanwhile, you should be okay using this bunk. There weren’t any others available with our delegation from the States needing accommodations.” She paused, glanced down at the neatly made bed to her right, and settled herself. “It’s Alan Scarborough’s, you know. Sam Cruz here is his roommate.”

Granger turned to the man beside them in the little dorm and shook his hand. In fact, he wouldn’t feel remotely okay sleeping in that bed. Knowing what happened to the rover’s S&R team, the idea of it gave him the horrors.

“This must be a tough spell for you,” he said to Cruz. “Hope I’m not being too much of an imposition.”

“No, no, please,” Cruz replied. He was dark-complected, wavy-haired, with a strong grip. “It’ll be good for me to have some company.”

Granger had noticed the humorous marker-inked rendering on the closet door across the room. He glanced at the words above it.

“Prisoners of Fashion,” he read aloud.

“Blame me for that one,” Cruz said. “Megan lets us juvies amuse ourselves by making a mess of our quarters. It’s sort of an in-joke I’ll explain to you later.”

Granger manufactured another smile and plucked at his synthetic thermal vest.

“Think I already get it,” he said.

A half hour after stalking out of Megan’s office, Nimec beckoned the manager of base security over to the same paneled workstation he’d seized for his ultimately wasted planning session with Granger.

“I want to conduct a site security check while there’s an opportunity,” he told him. “Tour the installation so I can get a close-up sense of things.”

And feel like I’m doing something marginally constructive with my time, he thought but did not say.