Because he clearly wasn't alone; there were others of his kind somewhere near, who presumably either thought him dead or for some other reason weren't...disposed to investigate his landing site closely. Otherwise he'd have waited for them where he was. But they'd come if he could signal them, that had to be the purpose of the beacon he'd got me to design. I went back to the schematic I'd drawn and looked it over with fresh eyes. It all made sense of a sort, but it wasn't anything I could ever. I wonder about those others whom like us loved so deeply and yet were torn apart. I wonder where all those lovers are now. Whom have they left behind? Is there some sweet little grandmother somewhere gazing up into the stars like Me? Is she remembering when she was a young woman letting her dress slip to expose a soft rounded shoulder and the upper swell of her breast? Is she remembering her girlish attitudes and how with a simple flick of lowering her silk strap how naughty she appeared? Is. More

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