It would have been a matter of enough concern had Riker been at his peak, but he had been growing increasingly weak over the past few days. “It’s this mineral-poor ecosystem,” Riker had deduced once his weakness had become impossible to deny. “I’m not getting enough iron, calcium, you name it. And it didn’t help that I was injured, lost a lot of blood. The squales couldn’t give me enough of what I needed to recover, even with whatever miraculous biotech they used.”

Lavena looked skyward. “What about the asteroid dust in the rain?”

Riker threw an ironic glance toward the clouds. “That might help a bit, but it’s got too muchheavy metal to be good for me. Although the malnutrition will probably get me long before the metal poisoning does. Unless we get back to Titan.”

Aili felt guilty again. As natives of a pelagic world, Selkies had evolved to get by with a less mineral-rich diet than humans, so she was less affected than Riker. Still, she would suffer nutritional deficiencies as well if she had to stay here long enough.

But the immediate concern now was the weather, and she went to the squales to ask if anything could be done for Riker. As it happened, the squales already had plans to move them, because the weather problem was more severe than she had realized.

Riker’s eyes widened when she relayed the news. “The hurricane? Thehurricane?”

She nodded. “Spot, in all its glory. We’re drifting into its fringes.”

“Please tell me there’s a way to navigate this island,” he said. “Or have it towed.”

“Actually, you can say good-bye to the island, sir. We’re being relocated. I asked if they could arrange for better accommodations, but right now they’re pretty insistent about just getting us out of here.”

Riker looked around the tiny speck he inhabited with no trace of nostalgia in his eyes. “How do they plan to do that?”

But soon enough, the answer presented itself. An object of some sort became visible in the distance, drawing toward them as though being towed. Once it came close enough, it became evident that it was a flat, disklike creature with a tall stem of some sort rising from the center, almost like a raft of some kind. Cham, Gasa, and some of their podmates were accompanying it, towing it into range. Cham sang to her that it had been obtained from another pod—he called them “life-makers”—through some kind of trade she did not understand (and that Cham seemed less than happy with—or maybe he was just offended at having his talents wasted on shepherding such an unintelligent tool-creature). Aili swam out to investigate, singing thanks to them, and clambered onto it to test its stability. It held her weight easily. It was flexible and bouncy like a waterbed, and made of a soft membranous material. She could barely keep her footing, and hastily knelt on the surprisingly warm surface. She examined the vaguely translucent membrane visually and probed it with her hands, and realized she was sitting on a large inflated organism, reminiscent of one of the gas jellies that were common on this world, but with a tougher skin and no sign of any stings, at least on top.

Aili dove back into the water to replenish her oxygen and examine the creature’s underside. Indeed, there were no stings or tendrils, to her relief. There didn’t even seem to be any means of propulsion—just a keel-like protrusion along the bottom. But that mastlike growth on top made her wonder.

Riker was in no condition to tarry, so she helped him over to the raft. His grass thong, grown sodden and rotted from the rain, fell apart before he reached the raft, leaving him with no protection once he climbed onto it. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stay calm, Riker asked, “Now what?”

“I think it’s a sailboat,” Aili told him. “On Pacifica there are some jellies that have sails of sorts, letting them travel by wind. I think Earth has similar creatures.”

Gasa swam over to her and guided her around the sail-jelly, showing her a set of loops that she soon discerned were a harness, allowing her to ride the craft with her gill-crests mostly immersed but her head above water to speak to Riker. Once she was in place, another squale—one she didn’t recognize, perhaps a visitor from the “life-maker” pod—emitted a clear, precise sound. Immediately, the sail began to unfurl, and in moments it was pulled fully taut and catching the wind. The sail-jelly began to move under the wind’s impetus, and in moments another squale call came and the sail moved, adjusting its angle, altering the creature’s course. “The damn thing’s domesticated,” Riker murmured.

“More than that,” Aili said. “I think they designed it for us. I can’t figure why else it would have these loops for me.”

“In just a couple of days? How is that possible?”

Aili asked Gasa and the new visitor, but all they would tell her was, “Later.”But there was an overtone of uncer tainty, as though her young friends were unsure their elders would let the offworlders in on the secret.

So there was nothing to do but lie back and enjoy the ride. Riker sighed. “What is it with us and jellyfish vessels?” he wondered.

“It is threatening to become a trend,” Aili replied, chuckling.

But Riker couldn’t sustain good humor for long. Although the sail-jelly was tacking away from the hurricane, they were still being steadily rained on. Riker pressed himself against the jelly’s surface, getting what warmth he could from it, but he was shivering before long. After a moment’s deliberation, Aili climbed up onto the raft alongside him. “Sir…let me.” She lay down behind him and spooned her body against his, sharing her warmth.

“Ensign,” he replied through chattering teeth, “this is not appropriate.”

“Letting my captain freeze to death isn’t appropriate.”

“You’ll suffocate.”

“The rain will keep my gills wet. At least for a while.”

“No. Really, I can’t.”

“Please, Will,” she said, using his given name in an attempt to reassure him. “Just relax. It’s nothing to be afraid of.” She slid her arms around him, pressing herself closer to share her warmth. “We’ve been a lot more intimate than this before.”