The pilot settled logily in a chair and dozed off. Amantha and Ethan watched him in silence.
The pilot got up and began to stretch lazily without seeming to notice them. The laziness disappeared and the stretch changed into a jerk that seemed to elongate his body. He sprang out of the compartment and went leaping down the corridor. When he came to the hatch, he didn't hesitate. The ladder was too slow. He jumped.
He landed on the sand, sinking in to his knees. He extricated himself and went bounding over the field.
"Never saw canalberries take so long," muttered Amantha. "Don't know what's wrong. Nothing's as good as it used to be."
She shook off her hat and closed the airlock.
"You don't need those nose plugs any more, Ethan. Come on, let's see if you remember."
Several hours later, she twirled unfamiliar knobs and, by persistence and beginner's luck, managed to get the person she wanted.
"You the commander?" Since he had a harassed look, she assumed he was. "Thought you might be worried about that poor boy."
"Madam, what do you want?" He scowled at the offscreen miscreant who had mistakenly summoned him. "I'm chasing criminals. I haven't got time to chat about old times."