At one of them, a small figure in black tunic and loose trousers was bending over, head and arms plunged into the bowels of the engine.
Dark hesitated. He had found his intruder, perhaps a traveler who had run into engine trouble in the desert and had fortuitously been near enough to take shelter here while making repairs. But, again, there was no reason to anticipate unfriendliness.
Carrying his marsuits, Dark walked up to the groundcar, overhearing a muffled bit of profanity as he approached. The unfortunate mechanic evidently heard his footsteps, because he was greeted with:
"I wish to Phobos you'd stay down here and try to help me, instead of spending all your time snooping around this deserted shack!"
The voice was muffled, but it was definitely feminine and definitely irritated. Dark grinned and replied drolly:
"I'm sorry, but this is the first time you've asked me to help you."
With an audible gasp, the woman disentangled herself, in dangerous haste, from the groundcar engine and faced Dark.
They stared at each other, in mutual shocked recognition.
There was Dark Kensington, bearded, his arms full of marsuits, and there was Maya Cara Nome, sleeves rolled up, her lovely face streaked with grease.
Dark's jaw dropped. Maya's lips formed a round, astonished O.