She grinned. “I’ll wait, see if you topple over.”

He waited to see if his stomach rejected it, but nothing happened. Irma said, “I think we should sleep in shifts. Keep two guards up, spell each other every four hours.”

“Let’s try it. But it’s hard to sleep on the sand ship.”

“We have to keep moving if we’re going to learn much.”

“Yeah, sure—but I’m wondering what we’re doing, running around. We sure as hell aren’t getting closer to understanding this place.”

She patted him on his shoulder. “Don’t get down about it. The guys take their cues from you.”

“Huh? I’m not in charge.”

She grinned. “Like it or not, you are.”

“Who said?”

“Primate politics. Ever notice? They say their piece, argue, then look at you.”

He sniffed. “No, I hadn’t noticed. Aybe and Terry give me plenty of grief.”

“They’re scared. We’re all scared. Sometimes that comes out as anger.”

“Uh, glad you brought that up.” The scent of her, after yesterday’s swim in a pond, was messing with his concentration. He felt uncomfortable somehow, so resorted to safer generalities. “I see some old patterns emerging under the stress. The guys are summoning up their inner macho, like putting on armor. Not that I’m immune, either.”

“You don’t flex it like they do.”

He chuckled ruefully. “Look, as a teenager I practiced cool smoking in the mirror—” She laughed and he blushed. “No, I really did. Cancer sticks! I also impressed dates by revving the engine at stoplights.”

She laughed. “No! You had a combustion car?”

“An heirloom, the license cost a fortune. Once I tried on thirty sunglasses to get the right ominous look. With guys like Aybe and Terry, I talked tech and .45 automatics, usually while holding a beer bulb. And—” He glanced at her. “—I wore jeans so tight, I got sore balls and a red rash.”

She cackled, slapped her knee. “That’s so bad, it must be true.”

“Sure, it was ridiculous then, it’s ridiculous now—but Aybe and Terry are faking a calm they don’t have.”

She nodded. “Sometimes it’s so thick, you could cut it with a knife. I see them eyeing us, hiding their fears. Good deduction, Cliff-o.”

He turned to her. “We’ve gotten used to being scared, maybe. But I don’t—”

Without warning, she reached over, hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. Held it, long and hard. Let go, sat back, looked at him levelly. “Had to say that.”

Say what? he thought. “I, look, I’m—”

“Married, I know. So am I.”

“I hope I didn’t—”

“Give some sign? No, damn it.” She took a deep breath and rapped out words in a rush. “We’re on the run across a goddamn artifact we don’t understand and could get caught any minute, or killed, maybe worse than killed—so, way I see it, the usual rules, they don’t matter.”

“I—”

“No real argument, Cliff. But you and I have got to keep this little bridge party going and, and, I’m feeling so lonely, so like I’m on the edge, have got to—hell, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He smiled. “I don’t either, but I … liked it.”

They just sat and stared at each other for a while, letting the moment brew.

She raised an eyebrow, gave him a twisted grin. “Y’know, what anybody thinks of us means, to me, less than zero.”

“You make a good case.” Cliff wondered what he was doing, mind boiling. But something strong in him knew he needed this.

“I never liked sex in daylight, though.”

“I never was so picky.”

*   *   *

Terry said, “We’re getting nowhere.”

Irma sniffed and poked at their small, popping fire. It burned old wood, which did not give off smoke. “We’re alive, right? And I wouldn’t have given us good odds on that last week.”

Aybe sniffed, his wide mouth twisted skeptically. “Week? This damn place makes time meaningless.”

Irma lifted her phone. “Standard time.”

Techtypes all, they then ruminated on keeping a time standard here with their digital devices, which got updated aboard because SunSeeker had significant relativistic time effects versus Earth-normal time. Aybe cut this off as he leaned forward over the fire, where stick skewers turned and dark lizard meat sizzled. “This place was made to erase time, that’s my point. What kind of thing makes a big thing that hasn’t got seasons, change, variety?”

Cliff said mildly, “Something that likes life predictable.”

Terry pounced on that. “Yes! Something really strange. Those big, feathered things we saw—they run this place. We ran away from them!”

“They were taking us prisoners,” Howard said. His injuries made him wince as he adjusted his seating around the popping fire.

Terry said, “Maybe they just wanted to talk.”

Irma said, “It didn’t seem like an invitation.”

“Hey,” Terry said, “the thing about aliens is, they’re alien. We may have misunderstood them.”

Aybe shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. We can’t live out here forever. What’s our agenda?”

Cliff sighed, but put his hand over his mouth so they didn’t hear it. They all looked at him; Irma was right. He wished he were more certain, but said anyway, “Lie low. Work the sand sailer toward the mirror region. We’re making good time. We could get there in maybe a month.”

“Month means nothing here,” Aybe said.

Irma said, “Hey, we need to keep time straight. Call it a million seconds, okay?”

They managed a low chuckle, the most they could muster as a group identity. Cliff watched their faces and seized the moment. “I’m hoping to find some access at the mirror zone. We saw that there were big constructions up there, close to the Knothole. Whoever runs this place probably hangs out there.”

Terry furiously shook his head. “We need to talk to these aliens. Look at what they’ve built!”

Irma said, “So?”

Terry sat back, blinking. “Let’s get close to one of their living zones. Stop hanging out here in the desert.”

Howard said, “I agree.”

Irma said, “I don’t like going in under their terms. Maybe they think aliens like us should be eliminated—who knows?”

Aybe scowled and jutted out his chin. “We escaped, remember? They may not take that kindly.”

Terry shook his head once more. “All I know is, we’ll learn more observing them near here, instead of trying to move millions of kilometers up to the Knothole.”

Irma pressed, “How?”

Aybe pointed. “I climbed that big skeleton tree yesterday, got a look at a dark patch off that way. Green, must be a forest.”

Terry said, “Better game, better concealment. Let’s go there, see if we can find some natives. Watch them, learn.”

Cliff watched them as this got tossed around. He had realized that Terry was the sort of guy he had known in university. He liked to sit around and drink and philosophize, and if he got drunk, he would tell you what you could expect in life for the sort of person you were. That met the legal standard for an asshole, Cliff figured. When the crew was getting shaped up—centuries ago in real time, yes—he had barely met Terry. But now he knew what type Terry was and was thankful that there was no alcohol here. With a few drinks in him, the man could do real damage in a small group like this. Maybe without the drinks, too.

So now Terry was far from what his skill set could deal with. Fleeing across a huge contraption nobody had ever imagined, Terry kept himself oriented, Cliff could see, by staying sharp of chin, assured, with eyebrows clenched behind aviator glasses. Sure of himself. Dangerous.

Assurance in the face of uncertainty was a good pose for a leader, sure. But not without plenty of thought to back it up.

“I say let’s vote,” Aybe said.

“Sure,” Howard said, his only remark in a while. He kept picking at a nasty scratch he had scabbing over on his calf.

Cliff said, “All in favor of following Terry’s idea.”

Three hands: Aybe, Howard, and Terry. Cliff shrugged. “Okay, after breakfast we set sail.”