Page 47 of Rock Hard Alien

Georgie grinned at her friend. “Would it help if I personally requested you? And you've already spent more time with Cairn than Pam has.”

“It definitely won't hurt.” Cleo pulled out two small plastic containers. “Spit into one of these, both of you.”

“That's all?” I asked, expecting something a lot more dramatic.

“Aye, that's all. You do have saliva, right? We were working with this one species and... doesn't matter.”

I grabbed one of the containers before I had to engage in that conversation. It felt too personal. I watched Georgie as she unceremoniously spat in hers, then copied her. This seemed too easy. Finding a mate took many rotations usually, and while there were mating advisors who could help make it slightly faster, this technology was unheard of on Spiris. How could a little-developed planet like Earth do this when we couldn't?

Time had passed, though, I reminded myself. Many generations had come and gone since we'd left Spiris. By now, gharrgoil technology would be much more advanced than what I remembered. The planet I'd known would have changed beyond recognition.

“What's wrong?” Georgie said quietly and took my hand. She was so perceptive.

“Nothing. Just thinking about home.”

“We will find us a new home. Something we can build up together. A place just for the two of us. Unless... have I asked you yet what baby gharrgoils look like?”

“Pebbles,” Cleo whispered in a volume that was meant to be understood by all. She sniggered while packing away the containers.

“We'll have this conversation when we're alone. Some day,” Georgie promised quietly. Her eyes were shining with life. My mate. My one and only. My little human.

Human computers were strange. They needed a lot of hand-holding. They didn't respond to voice. They didn't work autonomously. And I couldn't read what it said on screen.

In all the rotations I'd spent on that wall, nobody had ever bothered teaching me to read English or any other human language.

In the end, Georgie had taught me how to make tea so I could keep her hydrated while she was going through various databases on the hunt for my gharrgoil brothers. Any time she found one that matched the right time period and stone colour, she called me to look at the images. I'd seen maybe a hundred statues so far and my hopes of finding Sten and Hallr were quickly diminishing. There were so many. These humans really liked carving statues.

Georgie would occasionally point out one by a stonemason she knew or had studied. It was fascinating to learn more about the subject she was an expert in. She showed me how the styles had changed over time, how religion had influenced the grotesques, how the stone used could tell a story.

I'd been a statue - that didn't mean I knew much about them.

* * *

By late afternoon, the table was covered in notes, photographs and sweet wrappers. I had discovered that I liked coconut and didn't like lemon. Georgie had discovered that I had a big appetite.

I'd done little other than eat, while she had made lists of dates, locations, quarries, and the names of stonemasons. I felt utterly useless. Learning to read and use human technology was going to be a priority from now on.

I stared at all the notes and tried not to despair. “This is impossible. There are too many.”

Georgie looked up from her computer and smiled. How was she so perfect?

“There are too many gargoyles, but we're not looking for just any. We need two statues that look like you, made from grey stone, that were first added to buildings in or shortly after 1537. First, we'll look at any that don't have a stonemason named. If that doesn't work, we'll also look at those with a recorded artist. You were supposedly made by Michel Auberge.”

“Nice fellow. Bit pompous. He tried to chisel bits off me.”

Her eyes widened. “I keep forgetting that you were awake for all of history! I have so many questions. Auberge had a particular style, which is why he was invited to Scotland and-” She took a deep breath. “Not now. Sorry. One other thing we're looking for is statues that are perfect. No signs of weathering. No damage. Unless... Do you think parts of you could have broken off if you'd fallen?”

My tail flicked against the floor at the thought. “They tried to get rid of my horns because they made me look too much like what they called demons. It didn't work. I was too hard.”

Georgie pointedly looked at my battle wrap. “You're hard in many places.”

“I'm trying to focus. If you say something like that again, I might have to fly you to bed and show you just how hard I can be.”

She laughed. “Tempting, but I want to get through a few more pages of records. Let's assume that your friends are still fully intact. That narrows the list a lot. Most statues of that age will have been damaged over time. Wars, accidents, the Scottish rain.”

“I used to like the rain. It would wash the avian excrement off me.”

“Oh-kay then. Let's get back to work.”