Arin tried to explain his plan to help them recover the lander by drawing pictures of two carts. Each had a line attached to it. It was reasonably clear by then that he hoped to lift the lander off the bottom, and everybody’s best guess was that they had a freighter somewhere with a crane. The problem with that idea was that the water wouldn’t be deep enough for a heavy ship. So maybe they were planning on using two smaller vessels. In any case, he was clearly planning something. And the fact that he had a plan made it easier for Hutch, and probably everyone, to sleep.

Ken spent several hours each day with Arin, and additional time with Kwylla, working on the language. They were all picking up some of it. They learned to say hello and good-bye, ask for fruit juice, and pay Kwylla compliments on her clothing. Meanwhile, Arin expanded his artwork, attaching a not-very-accurate impression of the lander to the cords.

Derek grew restless. They continued getting assurances from Arin. “Help is coming,” he told Ken repeatedly. But the explanations broke down.

Days on Volaria were probably about two hours shorter than on Earth. So there were issues with the sleep cycle at first, but everyone adjusted. They were well into their third week, on a day filled with high winds and torrential rain. And they all seemed tired. They were still gathering on the porch every night to watch what they’d begun to call the passover. And Wally moved faithfully through the sky. But their energy levels were declining. They didn’t talk about it when Kwylla or Arin were present, because they knew there was nothing they could do. But when they were alone, as they were on that windy, rain-swept evening, the subject tended to take over the conversation. “I’m wiped out,” Ken was saying as Hutch got some fresh fruit out of the refrigerator. They hadn’t been doing anything that would have caused physical exertion, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Derek leaned back in his chair. “I can understand it,” he said. “There’s a lot of stress right now.” He looked over at Beth, who was eating white peels. “What do you think, Doc?”

“The stress doesn’t help. I suspect the real problem is that we’re not getting enough meatloaf and broccoli.” She tried unsuccessfully to conceal her concern. They were all worried, but food was a secondary factor. They’d pretty much run through their three weeks, and there was no guarantee Wally would stay when the time ran out and nothing had happened.

“You guys okay?” Hutch asked.

Derek’s laser gaze locked on her. “Ask me that when we get home.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m the reason we’re stuck here.” The porch fell silent.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Derek said. “You did what you had to.”