It was lightly raining when they approached the Triangle. Or, rather, when they approached the place where they understood that the Triangle was, on the other side.

Everyone knew there would be nothing to see, but everyone was there, watching anyway. It was one of the fundamental acts of faith involved in travel through the Triangle: trusting that there would be a way back, even though you wouldn't be able to see it. And Adelaide knew the physics, but the math was cold comfort right now. She wanted to see the nothing with her own eyes, and apparently everyone else did too.

Alessio was filming, of course, no doubt planning to capture the moment when Bermuda flashed back into view. But everyone else was just sitting, watching the sky or the water quietly, huddled beneath their jackets and ponchos. It wasn’t awkward, the quiet — there had been enough action that everyone had gotten used to the tired silence that came after long days. But it seemed wistful to Adelaide.

Or maybe she was just projecting. As far as Adelaide knew, everyone else was in good spirits. It had been a reasonably successful trip by most estimations, although the market would only fully reveal itself upon their return. Everyone had filled their Chests with enough to make the voyage individually and collectively profitable — beyond the unicorns and the dawnbats and the material they’d collected from that hive, there had apparently been a great deal of fishing and crabbing — or the relevant equivalent — during the period when Adelaide had been thinking about unicorn ethics.

And, of course, Adelaide had gotten the data she wanted. They hadn’t parsed it yet, and two Nodes wouldn’t reveal much, but it was a real start. The first two steps on a road that would lead to the transformation of life around the Triangle, if she was right.

But Adelaide still felt sad. As she looked out through the drizzling rain, she saw an island in the distance, and she knew no one would ever see it. If it had its own unicorns or dragons or parasitic moss or diamond caverns, no one would ever find out. It would only ever be what it was just then: a wet dark shadow on the horizon.

For a mad moment, Adelaide wished they could change course and do a quick visit. But doing so would risk missing their return window. And then they’d spend the rest of their lives out here, sailing endlessly and aimlessly, until they eventually hit a bad storm or ran out of edible food or suffered some other mishap. Or maybe not — maybe they could go forever. Maybe they could have found a pleasant island without many dangers and set up a little camp that would become a little village. And then they could have children and then this would be the world for some future generation that would never know of anything else.

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Or maybe the whole place would blink out of existence when the Triangle closed. It was an area of debate.

Regardless, she wouldn’t find out if she wanted to. Captain Mattson wouldn’t listen to her on this issue, and all of the passengers would no doubt have thrown her overboard before missing out on their own return ticket.

She looked at everybody and wondered who would actually come back with her on the next trip. Ray, the Captain and the crew were certain, but the others could leave if they insisted. She thought Percy would be as open to the next journey as he had been for this one — mostly indifferent — but she wondered about the others. Especially Trish. They had talked about old friends and memories since getting back aboard, but Adelaide still thought she saw something sad in Trish’s eyes.

And then it happened.

There was no flash, no building energy, no pressure. The clouds just vanished, and Bermuda replaced them. It was night, which Adelaide supposed she could have anticipated, but the effect wasn’t as dramatic as it had been last time. The Triangle was well lit and the Bermuda skyline glowed.

Adelaide looked over her shoulder, back through the Triangle. But all she saw was more Bermuda, more of the world.

***

Adelaide’s wistfulness had been sandblasted away by the experience of finding a hotel in the middle of the night.

Everyone else either had a permanent place in Bermuda or had planned better for this extremely predictable return. So Adelaide was alone in finding that most places were full, or at least not answering their phones. She’d resorted to making an account on an app that promised last minute rooms, and it had found her something for an unreasonable price on the opposite side of town.

She was bouncing in the back of a taxi, and she was surprised by how qucikly the lights and the noises and the traffic had resumed feeling natural. The world she’d been in felt imagined, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the goods turned to fairy dust when they checked them.

Tomorrow, she’d have to do this journey in reverse, because she and Ray were meeting at the Foam Strider to manage the sale of their goods and to make purchases for the next venture. She hadn’t even booked a second night — it wasn’t that she

Her cab stopped, and Adelaide pulled out her one suitcase. She’d only brought some personal essentials: most things she’d left in her Chest on the Foam Strider, where she only just now realized she could probably have spent the night for free.

The grumpiness at that realization, combined with the time change, kept Adelaide awake even after she’d brushed her teeth. She pulled out her iPad to pass the time and lull her to sleep when she was hit with a realization.

She’d canceled her Netflix account.