“We have to make sure we arrive at a later date than when Emil left,” Nadin pointed out. She looked at me—for the first time since the end of the forum. I felt my face color under her scrutiny. “If his arrival and departure overlap with each other, that could also create a paradox.”

“So there’s no way we can get back any earlier than sixteen months after I left,” I said glumly. “And we could wind up getting back even later than that.”

As I spoke, Ceilos entered the courtyard carrying a large clay jug with steam coming out the top. Small earthenware cups hung from hooks on the jug’s side. “Sokol,” he said, placing it on the table. “From Marin.” He sat next to Nadin, putting a hand on her knee. She smiled tightly at him, and moved to pour some of the hot beverage into one of the cups. I put a hand on the back of my neck and looked down.

“Once we arrive in Isaak’s time,” Gitrin said, taking a cup from Nadin’s outstretched hand, “our first priority should be to establish a stable connection between the two posterns. Once we have that connection, we can move freely between them without experiencing a time skip. That will also eliminate the concern about miscalculations.”

“That makes sense. It’s like interplanetary travel in our time as opposed to at the turn of the century,” Emil said after I translated. “Now it’s easy for shuttles to move back and forth between Mars and Earth—there’s spaceports on both planets, a stationary place for the pilots to travel back and forth between. But in the old days, before there were humans on Mars, the space agencies just had to calculate and hope for the best. Maybe they’d land in the right place—or maybe they’d burn up on entry.” He took a sip of the hot red liquid and winced at its bitter taste. “It’s not going to be easy, though, even if we make it back in one piece. GSAF has the caves totally sealed off. Delia bribed a guy to get me in the last time—I doubt she’d be able to manage again.”

“But surely this Gee-Saph will listen to reason,” Ceilos said, setting his empty sokol cup down on the table. “The posterns belong to the Iamoi. This is our planet. They can’t keep it from us.”

Emil snorted. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“But we can try,” Nadin snapped back at him in English. All four of us stared at her. My mouth involuntarily pulled up into a grin. Her accent was lilting but slight—much fainter than I was sure my own Iamoan accent was. I guessed my teaching might have paid off after all.

Emil stared at her appraisingly. Then he nodded, slowly. “You’re right. There’s nothing else we can do.”