There were five of the bags. Enough for Stan and Estrella and for Grace Nkroma and her two helpers. There was none for Salt or Achiever. However, Stan and Estrella elected to double up in one bag, so that Salt and Achiever, whether they would have chosen it or not, could do the same with the other.
The other event wasn't as pleasant. Stan was not the only person whose thoughts were on the spacecraft so temptingly perched on the mountaintop, out of reach. After a few days Achiever could resist no longer. He was more than halfway up the mountainside before anyone noticed. He didn't get much farther than that. As he was gingerly picking his way through a belt of jagged rocks approaching the top he suddenly threw up his hands; his body jerked and twisted in improbable ways, and he fell to the ground.
Down below, everybody was shouting at once. It was Nkroma's assistant, Yussuf Pike, who first started up the hill after him. Stan dropped the hand he had been holding, gave Estrella a wild look, took a deep breath and was close behind.
It turned out that heroics were not needed. Suddenly a pair of the five-legged machines appeared from behind the crest of the hill. One loaded the unconscious Achiever onto the cargo flat atop the other, and they carried him back down.
He was unconscious, though writhing in pain. But not dead. Still, for the next couple of days he lay racked on his bedding, every limb and joint excruciatingly reminding him of his mistake.
All in all, by the end of their first month Stan and Estrella had learned more about their place of captivity, though not all of it was useful. They learned, for instance, that Wan would show up many times a day, moving affectionately among his Old Ones, and completely ignoring the humans. They learned that if they needed a bath, which they all quickly did, the little lake was the only place to get one. They learned that trying to get to the ship by climbing some other slope and coming at it from behind didn't work, because everywhere they tried, giant, jagged-edged rockslides made the mountain unclimbable. They learned that trying to subvert Wan's own people was doomed; the humans had nothing to offer that outweighed Wan's considerable capacity for punishment.
And yet, when Wan was with his Old Ones, he didn't seem so bad. He crooned to them. Whether the Old Ones enjoyed it very much was unclear. They were certainly aware of his presence, though not apparently much interested. Sometimes they would grunt back in response to his endearments. Mostly, though, they just ignored him.
"I bet he wishes he could scratch their tummies," Estrella observed, watching Wan's simulation murmur fondly to a couple of the Old Ones as they idly munched CHON-food in the shade of a giant tree.
Estrella pointed out, "At least this way he doesn't have to smell them." And suddenly sat erect, looking worriedly around, as a voice from nowhere asked, "Do they really smell bad? Smell like what?"
"Well," Stan began, a little startled but game, "it's kind of like—"
Estrella cut him off. "We don't like to talk to people we can't see," she said loftily. "Why don't you show yourself?"
A long pause. Then, hesitantly, "I better not. He's still here."
"What he?" Estrella demanded. "Are you talking about Wan?"
"Of course I'm talking about Wan. I don't know if he'd like the idea of me showing myself."
Stan was about to speak, but Estrella laid a hand on his arm. "All right, if you're afraid to be seen, at least tell us your name."
A pause longer still. Then, "Oh, all right. I'm Raafat Gerges. You can just call me Raafat. I'm the one who got you the sleeping bags. I would have thought"—the voice now sounding injured—"that you'd've been grateful."
"Oh, we are," Estrella assured him. "That was kind of you, even if you didn't give us enough to go around."
Another of those pauses. Then, the voice now sounding puzzled, "I saw what you did for those Heechee, but I don't know why."
"They're our friends," she explained.
That brought about the longest pause of all, as though Raafat Gerges was trying to digest that concept, but Estrella didn't wait him out. She stood up, looking around all the parts of the compound. "Raafat? See for yourself, Wan isn't there now. Why don't you let us see you?"
That took some thinking over, too, but then he said, "Okay," and appeared before them at the same moment.
Raafat Gerges was a sight worth waiting for. Not physically. He had black hair and a sallow complexion, not a spectacle to turn anyone's head. What he wore, on the other hand, was undeniably impressive: a snow-white tunic, jeweled bracelets, sandals studded with what looked like more jewels, and a headgear—you couldn't call it a hat—that looked something like a brimless stovepipe, though made of some sort of colorful fabric and studded with the most jewels yet.
He knew what a spectacle he was, too. He preened himself some more, explaining, "I'm Egyptian, you know. But I didn't want to look like just any old Egyptian, so Wan let me dress myself up a little." He struck an attitude. "I think it works well, don't you?"
Raafat Gerges was the first of their bashful visitors to show himself, but not the last. While they talked, one by one, others appeared—two women and a pair of remarkably muscled men. "When you get a chance to simulate a body for yourself," said one of them—he was velvety black and very tall—"you might as well do one that looks good. I'm DeVon Washington," he added, and the others in turn introduced themselves: a man with a shaved head and black, closely cropped beard, Khoa Yukman; a woman with almond skin, delicate little nose and masses of wavy blonde hair, Sindi Gaslakhpard; and another woman, also blonde, though a lot less sexy, with the name of Phrygia Todd.
The simulations gazed at the captives silently, seeming wary, until Estrella remembered her manners. "I'm Estrella Pancorbo,' she said. This is Stan—"
DeVon raised a hand. "We know your names," he told her. "You people also," he added to Grace Nkroma and some of the others as they began to gather around.
"Oh," Estrella said, and then ventured small talk. "Raafat's been very kind to us," she told them. "He got us sleeping bags—"
"We know," the blonde named Sindi said.
"Ah," Estrella said. She tried again. "We had some excitement when Achiever tried to get into—"
"—the spaceship," the blonde named Phrygia finished for her. "We saw it. Can we ask you something? What's the matter with your face?"
Years of getting used to the question hadn't made Estrella like it. "Accident," she said shortly, and changed the subject back. "It seems you guys spend a lot of time watching us. How come?"
DeVon Washington grinned, more rueful than amused. "We've got a lot of time."
He stopped there, looking over Stan's shoulder. "Oh, hell! So long," he said, and all four of them disappeared at once.
When Stan turned he saw that Wan was back again, now murmuring to a pair of Old Ones by the shore of the lake. Grace was looking at him, too.
"You know," she said, "I think they're more afraid of him than we are."
Behind her Achiever made the sound that he intended for a chuckle. "Of course this is so. You ask why? I answer this for you: it simply is because of their knowing him better than we."
II
The second month wasn't any better than the first, and the third was worse than that. There was the boredom. There was the unacceptable food. There was the boredom. ("If we had Stork at least we could look at the baby." "Please, Stan. It wasn't my fault, the way they hustled us out of the ship." Every morning at sunrise Stan lifted his eyes to the hilltop where the spacecraft was perched. He wasn't just looking. He was yearning, not just for the hope of escape, not just for the Stork bracelet that was still in it. He knew, of course, that he was yearning for the unattainable, as Achiever had demonstrated. Was still demonstrating sometimes, going to sleep, when his eyes were closed but every muscle in his torso was rippling wildly.