The sweet honey hit her system with a rush of energy. Her head cleared, and she felt much less shaky. She brushed the emaciated alien’s hand with her knuckles, hoping that her skin reflected her gratitude. Its ears fanned wide in surprise, and it looked at its companion, flushing purple. A wash of patterns flickered over the companion’s skin, too fast for Juna to follow. The sick alien watched, then flickered patterns back.

Watching, Juna realized that those patterns had meaning. The aliens communicated visually. Her heart sank. If the aliens’ language was visual, it would take a long time for her to learn to communicate with them, especially without her computer. The Survey was scheduled to leave about two and a half Earth-Standard months after the flyer crash. Juna had no idea of how long she had been unconscious. If she didn’t get back to base soon, she might be marooned here forever. Her throat tightened in fear at the prospect. She had to move swiftly. If she couldn’t get an alien guide in a few days’ time, then she was going to have to set out on her own.

The other aliens returned bearing large leaves piled high with food, and several big gourds full of water.

Juna’s stomach growled. The aliens’ ears lifted and they looked at her, purpling with curiosity. Embarrassed, Juna blushed. Her skin turned a deep, rich brown, almost its original color. Pale blue and green waves of color washed over the sick alien. Was it laughing at her? Juna shrugged, mod blushed a deeper brown. The sick alien laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She smiled and brushed its hand with her knuckles again. She was beginning to like these people.

Her guide offered her a gourd brimming with clear water. Juna drank deeply. The water was flat, with a faint acidic tang. So much had been going on that she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. The aliens drank, then splashed water over their skins. Juna sluiced water over herself, mashing away the sticky honey.