[he can't speak right away. even if his mouth and throat would let him form the words, no language surfaces. just grief. that sinking, hopeless cloud of loss again, made all the worse because the island had begun to feel like a respite. even for all the horrors of this place -- at least if you die, you come back.

you're supposed to, anyway.

at last, in a cracked whisper:] Of the Eterna? Once. Said she put out a distress beacon behind the captain's back. [a convulsive twitch of his mouth] But she never wanted to talk about the ship too much. I didn't push.