The world—galaxy, rather—looked much better after some more sleep. It probably didn't hurt that Petra reported his brain med number to be 64. He had her keep a graph going, showing him how the number went up and down over time, and put a note whenever he took meds and how much.

  I might actually have depression beat, with this! So long as I religiously track that number and keep it in bounds, maybe I won't feel depressed for no reason any more. Petra, you're worth your weight in gold. No, that's selling you way too cheap. You're priceless.

  Nick clenched his fists in victory. Oh, yeah, life rocks when I'm not depressed. Look at me, on the wildest adventure ever. Speaking of which...

  Nick checked that the Death Star was up, and started listening in on the language lessons. Currently there were two alien voices Nick didn't recognize, speaking in their language and then speaking English with most of the consonants missing, it seemed like. As he tried to figure it out, he realized that Petra was also teaching the aliens Galactic.

  I guess that makes sense. Petra needs to use at least one language that she's completely proficient in. I've learned a handful of words in Galactic, but I don't really know what they mean, because neither of us know the English word for whatever. I just sort of know when to use them.

  Nick figured out how to insert himself back into the conversation without blocking the visuals and sounds of the dialogue between the natives and Petra. What followed was long and painful, and Nick sort of reconstructed it in his head as if they were having a regular conversation in English:

  “Hello, everyone. I am Nick. I was sick, now I am not sick.”

  “Hello, Nick. I am Jenkins—I am Oddball,” the aliens whose names Nick had mangled into 'Jenkins' and 'Oddball' replied.

  “You learn English?”

  “A little. You learn Kthufu?”

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  “A very little,” Nick admitted. “I am slow. Petra learn English and Kthufu.”

  “Nick...who is Petra?” Jenkins asked.

  Nick sighed. “That is hard to say. You...have clocks?” Then for a couple of minutes Nick worked to get across was a clock was, and learned the word in Kthufu. “You have small clocks and big clocks? Big clocks do more?”

  “Yes.”

  “Petra is a very, very, very, very big clock.”

  “We don't understand.”

  “Yeah, me either, honestly.”

  “Where are you from?” Jenkins asked.

  Nick explained a light-year to them, hoping he was getting it right, and said, “My world, Earth, is about 1500 light years away.”

  “Why are you here?” That one took a lot time to convey, but Nick was pretty sure he got it.

  “By accident.”

  “Can you go home?”

  “Not now. I am...working on it. Slowly.”

  “Are there more of you?”

  “Just me, and Petra.”

  It took a while, but Nick slowly told them the story of how he had come to be on BigBall. The world was actually called Ooafa, but Nick kept thinking of it as BigBall. They had a million questions for him about Earth, but he kept to the basics.

  “What about you? What happened to your world? Why is the Death Star so bright?”

  “We do not know. It happened slowly, starting three years ago. Our crops died. Our people started to die. We took shelter where we could, but we are almost out of food.”

  “I am glad you can eat my food, and I can eat yours.”

  “So are we! Can you give us more food?”

  “Yes. I will give you a printer—it makes food. You will feed it water, and carbon, and some sticks I will give you, and it will make food that it knows how to make.”

  “Knows?”

  Nick shrugged. “Printer is very big, but Petra is very, very, very big. Complicated, I mean.” It took a while to explain that he didn't mean that the printer was physically large at all.

  “Nick, Monster 231 is ready,” Petra interrupted.

  “Petra, rename Monster 231 'food printer.'”

  “Yes, Nick.”

  “Start printing the feedstock ingots, please.”

  “Yes, Nick. How many?”

  “That's a good question. How long does it take to print one ingot?”

  “Two minutes, four seconds.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really, Nick.”

  “Print one hundred feedstock ingots, please.”

  “Yes, Nick.”

  I guess that will take five hours or so, then. He hashed out Earth time systems with the natives, and told them how long it would take before he could bring them the printer. He also demonstrated the air purifier and water purifier on camera, and explained about the solar panels.

  Nick had to take a break, because his brain was getting tired. He explained that, and told them about Earth's twenty-four hour day, compared to Ooafa's fourteen hours. Then he signed off, promising to bring them the supplies and devices the next day.

  I have a lot to think about.