She had strange dreams—dreams of living with the crew of Othar, setting up a weather facility in an abandoned orchard in some no-name small town. It had been a good dream—it had been wonderful to finally be able to talk to Othar’s ponies without a language barrier. No translations to wait for, no computers to read from, just simple communication. Despite their initial disinterest in the subject, a year was a long time, and eventually they seemed to enjoy it. The nearby town just happened to lose their own weather contract due to a bidding dispute, and the fields needed weather desperately. They’d even been willing to front the cost of the facilities.