Yelir was an honorable male, but he was also stubborn and exacting. Thalen wasn’t sure how he would react to the news of the females, so they had deigned to keep the news of the arrival under wraps until they had more information. Ven had been tasked with making excuses for the surface squabbling, which Yelir was not concerned with unless there were auretians on Yulairan soil. There wasn’t much he and the other miners could do long distance; they were all biolocked out of the ranged weapons and other software.
“If Ven finds out we can’t hail his brother, he’ll have a full host of miners on deck in an instant.” Rentir’s blood cooled at the thought.
They had mistrust of the surface crew, but they despised Rentir the most. He was always forced to sit out the negotiations between the two groups, lest his presence start a scuffle. It wasn’t his own hide he feared for if it came to that—it was Cordelia. If they figured out she mattered to him, without Thalen here to diffuse tensions…
He shuddered.
“He can’t find out,” Rentir said urgently, grabbing Haerune by the collar.
“Be at peace,” Haerune said, prying his hand away. “There’s no reason to assume the worst, yet. We won’t give Ven reason to worry without due cause.”
“If they come up here…”
“It won’t come to that.”
Rentir looked askance at Lidan, who nodded tightly despite the aggravated way he ground his teeth. Rentir’s shoulders sagged.
Haerune cleared his throat. “Now, if we’re done catastrophizing, we need to?—”
“I need something to write with,” a feminine voice interjected.
They all turned, wide eyed, to look at Cordelia. Her chin was hitched up, her hands on her hips.
“If you’re done arguing?” she pressed. “Something to write with. Now, please.”
Rentir couldn’t stop gaping at her in amazement. His eyes flicked to the other females, who were still working tirelessly to update the language bank with their unfamiliar words. Clearly, they had established enough of a baseline for the translator to become conversational.
“Ah… you… you just need to switch the mode on your comm,” Rentir stammered.
She frowned, her arched brows drawing together. “My comm. You mean this thing?” She held up the band around her wrist. It was the simplest of comm technologies—the Aurillon didn’t waste money purchasing the nicest tech for their hybrid workforce—but it had several basic functions. Haerune had them all set for translation.
“Yes. May I?” He held out a hand, palm up. His heart stuttered when she rested her wrist in his grip without hesitation. His skin pressed against hers, and a tingling sensation spread up his arm.
“I thought it was just a translator.”
“It may as well be,” Haerune griped. “It’s not safe to transmit at present.”
Rentir slid his thumb over the metal band and back again, flipping through the apps on the device until he reached the rudimentary note-taking application. A small holographic keyboard popped up, covered in Tualithan symbols, the language of the Aurillon.
She barked a bitter laugh.
“Um, any chance you’ve got anEengleshkeyboard? I can’t type in… whatever that is.”
“Tualithan,” Rentir said. “You can use the gestural setting. Here.” He tapped a button to switch to gestural controls, and the keys flattened into an empty box. “Like this.” He scrawled his name with the tip of one finger. “Then you can just…” He held two fingers over his name and flicked upward, sending them up to the holographic screen and clearing the writing space. He demonstrated how she could move them around, showing her the boundaries of the holographic screen.
“That’ll work.” She immediately began to draw alien symbols in the air. Her little fingers were deft, working quickly to scribbleout things and flick them up onto the screen. All three hybrids watched in silent fascination.
“These are my people,” she announced when she was done, holding up two columns of text. “These four are those of us gathered here.” She pointed to names as she pronounced them. “Me, Cordelia, and then that’s Nyx, Pandora, and Lyra. These six are the ones I need to recover. Eunha, Celeste, Seren, Thea, Sophia, and Juno.
“The pods I launched have a protocol to attempt to remain with a kilometer of another pod. If you give me a map and he”—she pointed at Lidan—“marks where he found those three, we should be able to establish a search area. Aside from that, they should be transmitting an SOS signal that we can trace to their exact location. I just have to figure out how to pick up the frequency with your tech.”
Lidan cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. From behind his fist, he muttered, “Not anymore.”
“What was that?” Cordelia asked sharply, turning her shrewd blue gaze on him.
Lidan looked taken aback by her intensity. Jealousy twisted in Rentir’s gut as they met eyes. He wanted to step between them and bare his fangs at the pilot.
“Ah, they’re… not transmitting anymore,” Lidan said, rubbing his arms. “Fendar shut the signal down as they descended.”
