Kaelin barely noticed when Grace left to go speak with her parents, and likewise did not really notice when she returned. She had nestled their water container into the sand, and was considering how exactly to get the PitterCube into it without splashing too much.

One thing at a time. Do one thing at a time. Be quiet, keep your head down, don't mess up. Just one thing at a time.

She considered just pushing the cube in, but wondered if it would have too much speed. It was heavy, and she didn't want it to drop.

"If you take that end, and I take this one, we can ease it in slowly," she murmured to Grace, her eyes still focused on the cube. Don't mess up.

“I’m sorry. What?” Junior was having a hard time understanding what was being said. "What 'surprise adventure’? Wait a minute...You don’t think this whole shipwreck was planned do you?” There was no immediate reply, so Junior continued. “That would be the worst cruise in the world. Nobody crashes a cruise liner for fun. It’s too expensive. And who on Earth would ever come back?”

Twig's allowed Junior to help her up. He wasn't her favorite person in the world, but the help was pleasant. She listened to him ramble on about the squirrel and tabloids. When he paused, she tried to gather her thoughts. However, she liked to think before she spoke. Since she was shy, self-conscious, and didn't get out much, she usually required at least double the pause of someone else would need. When it involved Pittersticks she needed at least triple the normal pause. When Junior finished his speech, Twig's knew she needed to respond, but she could not make up her mind how. By the time she decided it might be best just to go with "apology accepted," Junior was off and giving Grace the necklace. Twig's felt guilty that she had thought the floss was for his teeth. She was going to have to make an apology of her own. For not answering him that is, she was too confused to decide if she had completely misjudged his character or just partially.

When Junior asked the question about Pittersticks, Twig's open her mouth planning to first apologize for not responding to him and then to answer his question; however, Faye beat her to it.

Twig's spoke up,"Molly told us that the cruise offers shipwreck packages and that unless we unchecked something we were signed up for the shipwreck package. None of us saw anything about that in the information. Molly also said that no one had gotten hurt before. The way she described it, the boat is designed to be able to drop people in the water without destroying the whole boat. It sounded like it was supposed to be a relaxing trip to the shore. They throw out some wreckage to make it realistic. There is supposed to be a radio transmitter but Molly can't find it." Twig's gently touched Junior's arm, hoping to be reassuring. "If you know anything that can help us, you had better tell us." To the group she said, "I know we have a lot to sort out, but I think it might be a good idea have something to eat either while discussing or before starting. I know I am more rational if I have had something to eat. We have enough coconuts to go around if someone knows how to get into them."

Maeve picked up the machete and inspected it. The last glimmer of sunlight began to fade behind the horizon.

"Coconuts are a pain," she said shortly. "But keep the husks. They'll be helpful if the fire goes out."

She was not planning on starting any fires by hand unless absolutely necessary.

She picked up one of the fruits and sliced the husk several times before pulling it back.

"It seems to me, Junior, that there are a lot of things that all seem to center around you," she began, then hurried on, afraid Junior might take the moment to agree with her and present an analytical essay on how, indeed, things centered around him. "All of these people? They're the ones you've chosen for your social group aboard ship. The ship? Apparently yours."

She glanced over at Molly, wondering how much she wanted to throw her under the bus.

"Since we've gotten here, too, it's been a little odd. I mean, really, you're an adventurer, it seems. Consider what you would think if someone else came ashore unscathed, magically found a box of supplies upstream, along with a tarp, and then somehow knew exactly what to do with all of those things. There's no way a box that heavy simply floated up there, and that tarp would have had little bits of sand and water lodged in the corners if it had been in the ocean. You can't tell me you wouldn't be quite suspicious yourself."

Having freed the coconut from its husks, she planted it between her knees and carefully opened up a hole at the top, then brought it over to Twig's.

"This one looks like it's rather young, so you should have enough juice for several people. We'll cut it the rest of the way open once the liquid is gone."

She looked down at Junior.

"So, why shouldn't we be suspicious of you?"

“Now wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute!” exclaimed Junior, who incidentally was likely the only member of the group to have actually picked cotton, “Shipwreck packages?!? Are you serious? You guys believed that malarkey? Whoever heard of unchecking a high-adventure tour option? Any self-respecting team of lawyers would have a two-page form that has to be signed in triplicate. This doesn’t make sense at all. And you all thought that I... Humph. Somebody is trying to tarnish the good Gladstone family name. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Molly! I demand an explanation. What have you been telling these good people?”

"Well, I don't know about you, Junior, but I have been on a dozen of these malarkey cruises already, as a stewardess," said Molly, her nose in the air. She was confused--Gladstone seemed to be sincere--but she didn't like being accused of not telling the truth.

"What I do know is that you were on the last cruise as well, and things went badly. Or at least somebody who looked like you, talked like you, and acted like you." Molly stopped short, and a strange expression crossed her face. "Say, you don't have a twin or a clone or something like that, do you?"

Twig's gratefully accepted the coconut and drank her share of the juice. She passed it on to the next person. She didn't know whom to believe. "We need Poirot here," she muttered to herself. A minute later she started giggling. Realizing she was getting some very confused stares from the others. "I'm not laughing because there is anything funny in our situation," she quickly explained turning bright red. "I was thinking that we could use someone like Hercule Poirot here and then I started thinking about how upset Poirot would be about the state of his clothes." Realizing some people might not read as extensively as she did, "He is fictional detective. Sorry for the interruption." She wanted to explain more but realized she was already sounding crazy.

“No, I don’t have a twin. And as for a look-alike, why would anyone want to impersonate me? Well, aside from the fact that I am facinating, incredibly handsome, and heir to an enormous fortune? Has anybody seen anyone like me? Junior continued. “And who would have the ability to run a dozen shipwreck-themed cruises without the board of directors knowing?”

"I'm not gonna say you're digging yourself farther into a hole, but you really are," Maeve observed, cutting away another coconut. People from this planet were weird.

Maybe taking a closer look at Twig's' Hercule Poirot might be a springboard to getting a better grasp on them.

Grace, meanwhile, had returned to Kaelin and the PitterCube. Her friend had readied their water container, so now it was just a matter of how to do this.

She ran a hand along the frozen squirrel's icy shell. "It's cold," she said, giggling and a little embarrassed as she realized how obviously silly that had to sound.

Kaelin said, "If you take that end, and I take this one, we can ease it in slowly." Grace did her best to comply but the cube was heavy.

"I don't know if I'm strong enough," she whispered. "Let's try again."

Grace rubbed her hands together a little to warm them up, and on the next attempt the girls were able to push the frozen squirrel into the water container. Some water splashed out but quickly disappeared into the sand of the beach.

With wrinkled brows, Molly watched the girls as they wrestled with the frozen squirrel, but her thoughts were otherwise occupied.

"That's just it, Junior," she said slowly, "you say you don't have a double. Okay--what that might mean is that you don't know you have a double. And why would Javier want to replace you? What if he wants to get control of your money--use it for his own ends? Maybe your influence, too. If you disappear, there will be a big ruckus. If you disappear, but no one realizes it, who would even think to ask questions?"

The stewardess shook her head.

"The problem will be proving it--if we can get back in one piece. Who knows? Maybe Javier has already made his move, and intends to make sure that we don't return--you to claim your money, me to make identification possible, Mr Walters to, um, well, whatever...." she faltered to a stop.

By this time Mr Waters had once more lost interest in the goings-on of his fellow castaways. He was dreadfully certain that he was about to come down with a heavy head cold, and he was sure that he had a few of those pills left that would stop the nasties in their tracks. The only light came from the fire, which flickered and waned so that it was almost impossible to see into his crowded bag, so reluctantly he began to take them out and line them up on the sand. The deeper he dug, the more frightened he became. What if he had run out? Where could he get more? There didn't seem to be a pharmacy on this miserable shore, and head colds could be deadly. If it got hold of him he might end up with pneumonia or worse. Did this constitute an emergency?

Molly looked at all the rows of medicine bottles. She picked one up at random.

"Are you planning to have a baby, Mr Walters? This one is a cure-all for puerperal fever, you know."

"Give that to me!" Mr Waters snatched it back jealously. "And for the last time, my name is Waters, not Walters!"

Molly sniffed, and was in the act of turning away, when she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She looked closer. Sitting in the bottom of the pill-stuffed bag, covered up till now, was a small radio set.

"Where did you get this?" she screeched, glaring at the detective.

"It's mine!" He scrambled to his feet and the stewardess tried to take it from him. He backed away, holding it tightly.

"Don't let him get it!" she implored the rest of the party. "Why didn't you tell us you had it, so we could call for help?"

"They said it was only for emergencies," Waters huffed. "Personal emergencies! Not frivolous cases by the public."

"Emergencies! Frivolous emergencies!" Molly's tone was ominous. "Well, I think that this nonsense has gone on long enough. I am going to call right now, and you can like it or lump it. Does anyone else object to being rescued? Please speak up now if you do. If not, you might want to keep him off my back."

Kaelin smiled briefly as their ice cube successfully floated in the water, the sharp corners already beginning to disappear. Then Molly and Mr. Waters set to, and the smile vanished.

"Too much noise, too much noise," Kaelin muttered, rocking slightly.

The scuffle knocked Waters' pills, creating a rather grating noise as hundreds of small pellets knocked against their containers. Kaelin stood halfway.

"I...I...have to...I have to go...to...to the bathroom," she said to Grace. She turned and, keeping as low as she could, speedwalked into the trees.

~~

"Mr. Waters-Walters," Maeve corrected, setting the machete against a tree and inspecting her hands, "This is a case of an emergency. Just imagine what the press will say when they discover that the once-magnificent Walters, knowing that two women, a young mother and an adventuring...student about to enter the prime of her life, were severely injured, chose to ignore their needs because they were 'too frivolous'? They'll say Mr. Walters was too caught up in furthering his own interests to allow these women life-saving medical care. Surely you would rather return home as the hero with a news-worthy mystery to solve, rather than as a selfish miscreant with blood on his hands. Now, won't you hand the radio to Molly?"

"Why--why--I hadn't thought of it that way," stammered Mr Waters. Then he gathered together his dignity. "Why, if that's the case, then there is no need for her to touch the radio," waving at the glowering stewardess. "If I call, then I will have rescued all of you, isn't that right?"

He flipped the switch, and the radio light began to glow. Good, the battery wasn't dead. He began to tune the radio--at first there was a lot of static, and then it came clearer.

"Now, what channel was it?--what channel was it? Ah, ah!" he said, holding up his hand, lest someone try to snatch away his glory. "I remember." More twiddling. Then there came a voice from afar, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He pressed down the send button, and spoke pompously into the microphone.

"Ahem--ahem, ahemmmmm.... We have some injured people here and would request the aid of any available unit. This is highly important--highly important. This is Ithamar Cadwallader Waters speaking. Tell them that."

"Roger that," came back the crackly voice. "Location confirmation requested."

Waters gazed around blankly. What was he to say to that?

Faye quickly thought back through the past few days of the trip. "We passed the Ardorell Islands two days ago," she remembered out loud, "and we were travelling... south at that time. But we were travelling east when the ship sank. Someone has to have been tracking the Titan IC's course, surely they can project where we are now." Faye wished she'd studied the maps or route more carefully when they were sailing, but she only remembered where they'd already been, and not where they had been going. She'd have to hope that whoever was on the other end of the radio could figure out what island they were on based on that.

A thought did cross her mind, though, that if there really was something duplicitous going on, then could they really trust the stranger on the other end of the radio? If he was on an open channel, Faye would be more willing to believe that it was just a helpful captain. But Mr. Waters had made a point of finding a specific channel. Could she trust him?

Faye glanced at the Baxters, Dan's concern for his wife palpable, and back over at the immobile Ainsley. Did they have any other choice? "Mention that Mr. Gladstone Jr. is here," she suggested forcefully, "and that there are children." She would have to hope that someone had a conscience, concern for Mr. Gladstone's safety, or both, and that such concerns would override whatever nefarious dealings might be going on.

The mention that Javier might be out to get Junior shocked and surprised him. How could they suggest such a thing? Then again, Junior was taking over operations from Javier. And Javier had been keenly interested in Junior’s schedule lately. And then there was the time when Javier asked if he could cut Junior’s hair and keep the clippings “as a souvenir.” -That was odd. Was Javier up to something? And just how long had he been planning?

No time to think about that now. The rescue party needed to be able to find them. Junior immediately gathered up armfuls of wood and set about making several more fires along the beach. If they were radioing that Junior Gladstone was in need of help, they should expect a fleet of helicopters shortly. Daddy Gladstone would see to that.