Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from hisnostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, ashe had when he was smaller. Onhis shoulder perched a drowned crow with seaweed hanging from his wings. Was it Edd who reminded him about the torch, or Grenn? He couldn'tremember that either. At thirty kilometers, still talking, the pilot severed the tether, allowing the barque to drop free.
His cigar, a tattered, dead ruin was finally disposed of, a new cigar groped for, and lit. Before another word was offered, his small sharp mind had made its decision and cut the channel to his home-mind, never bothering to tell him of its intentions. Do not volunteer orders. But Mars was dangerous, and the worst things were always ready to happen.
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