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Avrell chuckles, no doubt sensing the intensity vibrating from me.
“We’re leaving this solar and you won’t arrive in some time. We thought, however, that you could fly through the mountains at a low altitude to see if you can spot them. Lyric thinks maybe they would have traveled south or toward the ocean.”
“They can’t have gone far,” I tell Hadrian. “The alien boy is small and we’re fairly certain they brought The Rades into Exilium. For all we know, we could be looking for bodies.”
Everyone goes silent.
“We still have to look for them,” Lyric says finally. “Even if only to give them a proper burial. I hate the thought of them being out there all alone.”
I give her a nod. “If they’re out there in the open, we’ll find them.”
Willow squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll do our best.”
“You’ll never believe what Molly told me,” Oz blurts out, suddenly appearing on the comms. His black eyes are alight with excitement.
“What? She wants to breed more rogcows?”
He snorts. “Well, she does, but that’s not what I’m referring to.” He splays his clawed hands out in front of him and spreads them with a victorious grin on his face that makes his double fangs glint. “She said there is something called a harem. Read it in a thing called a smut book.”
“A what?”
“A harem. A virile male like myself could mate with multiple women and impregnate them all.” He laughs as though he can’t even believe his words. “Five. Ten. Twenty. She says, according to those books, it’s especially common with aliens.” He scratches at his cheek, smearing black grease across his face. “I would be a fantastic bedmate, I am certain.” His tongue flicks out and his eyes gleam wickedly.
I shake my nog at him. “You’ve been talking to Jareth too much. He enjoys corrupting the innocent.” For all I know, Oz has let Jareth come after him with his zuta-metal cock rings. A shudder ripples through me. “Sayer, Jareth, and Grace are an exception to the rule, Ozias.”
Oz, normally our quiet mort who tinkers with machines, is buzzing with energy that would make Hadrian proud. “What rule? There are no such rules in the book.”
“No,” I agree, “but you haven’t met Lyric. There are rules.”
“Or Zoe,” Avrell chimes in as he walks over to me.
At this, I laugh. “Especially Zoe. Point is, they’re not going to let you round up half their female population so you can stick your cock in each one. Not to mention, Breccan would strangle you for even suggesting it.”
Oz scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “Surely I could convince them.”
“If you try, please promise me I can be a witness when you tell Breccan. I want to watch him rip your claws off one by one and shove them up your—”
“Theron!” Willow gripes, swatting me in the nog.
Where did she appear from?
Oz cackles while I rub at my nog, shooting a frown at her over my shoulder.
“Point is,” Avrell says in his fatherly tone, “it’s a terrible idea. These things should take their natural course. Being a man of science, I’ve interpreted the data, and when a human and mort connect physically, it should be motivated by their desires to be with one another in order to be a success.”
“Yeah,” I agree with a taunting grin. “And you’re going to have a hard enough time convincing one female to want to be with you, much less a handful.”
“What’s wrong with me?” Oz demands, glowering at me.
“What’s right?” I throw back, earning another pop to the nog by Willow.
“Mortlings,” Avrell says with an exasperated sigh. “Enough.”
I’m about to throw back another insult to my friend when something beyond the glass catches my attention. I rise and stare out.
“Oh Lord,” Willow groans. “He’s caught sight of his handsome self. Your childish bickering will have to resume another day. This usually takes a while.”
Oz and Avrell laugh along with Willow.
I’m not laughing.
Something catches the light of the sun. Zuta-metal? It’s not born of the earth, that’s for certain.
“I’ve found something,” I bark out. “Take a seat.”
Oz grows serious. “What is it?”
“Could be Stella and Henry. I’m going to land the Mayvina and have a look.”
“Stay safe and keep me advised,” Oz urges.
I give him a clipped nod as I drop back down into my seat. Willow and Avrell both find a place to sit as I ease my metal female through the red, hazy clouds to the ground. The winds from an impending geostorm make the ship wobble, but I’m used to a little turbulence and keep it steady. I drift us at a low speed along a valley between two huge mountains toward the glinting.
“I see it,” Willow says, pointing. “It looks like a—”
“Ship,” Avrell hisses out. “Smashed to bits.”
I lower us to the ground and then stop a little way before it. Something similar to the Mayvina sits in a mangled heap at the base of one of the mountains.
