“I was lucky it was in a place I could reach. If that animal had bit me on the ass, I’d probably be dead. I got it bleeding freely, and I sucked out everything I could. But I still got goddamn sick. The animal was poisonous.”

“Where was it?”

“The wound? On my arm, right above the bracelet. I wondered if maybe the brightness attracted the animal—or angered it.”

“The bracelet?”

“The one that belonged to the Trickster. I tracked the oracle and found where he threw it into the lake.”

“You took it back a second time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you still have it?”

“Not anymore. I don’t like being pushed around by anyone, even a spirit. But too many bad things have happened. I threw it in the river. I apologized to the Trickster. I told him I’d find a way to make up for everything.” He paused. “After I got over being sick, I decided to stay where I was. My arm hurt. I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to swim any distance at all. And I didn’t want to go back in the marsh. I figured, I’d wait for a rescue or until I was feeling a bit better. I gathered wood and built a fire. I’m tired, Lixia.”

I said, “Good night.”

His breathing changed almost at once, becoming deep and even and slow. He had gone to sleep.

I followed his example.

I dreamed that I was back on the ship in a corridor. The walls were made of ceramic tile, glazed oxblood-red. Derek was in the corridor. He was dancing. The gold bracelet was on his wrist. It shone brightly. Derek sang in the language of gifts:

Sunlight came through the window. I groaned and sat up. Derek was gone. He’d left a pillow on the floor. The covering was brown and gray: a pattern of swallows in flight.

I found my clothes and went looking for the bathroom, which had been used. There was steam on the mirror and two damp towels. They’d been hung up, not especially neatly. I straightened them, turned on the shower, and climbed in. Ah! The simple pleasures of civilization! Hot spray beat on my head and back. The soap smelled of lemon. There was a loofah hanging on a hook in the stall. I got it wet and scrubbed.

The water went off. I pressed the button that turned it on.

A voice said, “If you wish to obtain more water, wait a minute, then press the ‘On’ button. But remember, you have already used your daily allotment.”

“There’s a whole lake out there. A river as big as the Mississippi. And the water is clean.”

The shower did not answer. I pressed the button again, though I felt guilty about it—as I was supposed to. The water came on, and I washed my hair.

When I was done I got dressed and wandered through the dome. I found evidence of occupation in almost every room: rumpled beds and pieces of clothing. A necklace lay on a table. It was antique silver and coral. Sunlight touched it. It gleamed.

Another room held a book, which I turned on. The title appeared on the screen: À la Recherche du Temps Perdupar Marcel Proust. My French was close to nonexistent. I turned the book off and put it back where I had found it and then went out of the dome.

The day was bright and windy. The lake glittered. Clouds moved across the sky. Eddie waited for me. He wore a flower-print shirt, dark-green and red. His hair was in braids. His jeans were tucked into high boots made of real leather. He had sunglasses on. The lenses were green-gold and highly reflective. I could not see his eyes.

“Good morning, Lixia. I thought I’d make sure you found the dining room.”

“Thanks.”

We walked toward the biggest dome.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Okay. Where do I get new clothes?”

“Dome one. It’s all standard issue. I’m sorry about that. No one thought to bring anything from your cabin.”

“You didn’t expect to find me.”

He laughed. “Maybe so. We’ve gone to a hell of a lot of trouble—and set a dangerous precedent—and you may be right. We may not have believed that you and Derek were alive.”

“Lucky for us that you came down anyway.”

Eddie did not answer. I glanced at him. He was frowning. I knew what he was thinking. It wasn’t lucky for the people on the planet.

The dining room was almost empty. A crewmember sat reading, a glass of tea on the table in front of him. A woman gathered dishes, stacking them neatly. She was large, with red-brown coloring. Her clothing—a pair of jeans and a white blouse—told me nothing about her occupation.

Eddie led the way to the serving table. A little man was putting bagels on a plate. His hair was long and blond, covered by a hair net, and his clothing was kitchen-white.

“You’re late,” he said. “The eggs are gone.”

“What’s left?” Eddie asked.

“Noodles and sausage. We have three kinds of sausage.” He tapped a heating unit. “These are made from chicken and are relatively spicy. The ones in the next unit are made from iguana. They’re mild. The ones at the end are soybean. I don’t recommend them, unless you’re really worried about your karma. No animal was killed to make them, and that’s the best I can say.” He paused and glanced down the table. “That’s it, except for the bagels, which turned out pretty well today.”

I helped myself to chicken sausage, a bagel, and a pot of coffee. Eddie got noodles and tea.

We sat down at a table next to a wall made up of hexagonal windows. Outside was the lake. I squinted. Two objects floated there, a good distance out. They were hard to see amid the glitter of the waves. I shaded my eyes. They were long and dark, low in the water.

“The rocket planes,” said Eddie.

I poured coffee and drank. “Ivanova told me a little of what happened at the meeting. But I can’t say that I understood it.”

“I wish to hell you and Derek had made it back in time. I wish you hadn’t vanished. I was trying to argue a principle while Ivanova recited the Code of Space. One does not abandon a comrade in trouble. It had a definite impact.” He paused and twirled noodles onto a fork. “Did you know—in the century after the conquest of Mexico, ninety percent of the native population died? The population of Peru fell by ninety-five percent. Three million people vanished off the Caribbean Islands.” He ate the noodles, chewing them carefully. “They died in the mines and on the plantations. They were sent to Europe as slaves. Disease got them. War and execution. Starvation. There is a quote I have memorized by a Spanish writer of the time.

“ ‘Who of those born in future generations will believe this? I myself who saw it can hardly believe that such was possible.’ ”

I ate as he talked. The sausage was not really spicy. The bagel was excellent.

“Eddie, that was hundreds of years ago. You don’t seriously think that something like that is going to happen again?”

He paused, then sighed. “I don’t know. But I’ve been listening to the conversations on the ship.” He ate another forkful of noodles, then reached for a bottle of Sichuan hot oil, which was on the table along with other condiments. He sprinkled the oil all over his plate. “Everyone wants to get down to the surface of the planet. No. That isn’t entirely true. There are astronomers who don’t care, and some planetologists who want to look at the other planets in the system. But they’re the exceptions. The biologists are going crazy.”

“What do you expect? These people came eighteen point two light-years to study the life on this planet.”

“I know.” He ate more noodles. “That’s better. I’m telling you what I’ve been hearing. Most of the people on the ship are talking about the research they plan to do, once they get down here.”