The sun struggled feebly with the mist, tried to impart a little warmth here, shed a little light there, but clearly today was going to be just another long haul across the sky. Nothing moved. Again, silence. Nothing moved. Silence. Nothing moved. Very often on Sqornshellous Zeta, whole days would go on like this, and this was indeed going to be one of them. Fourteen hours later the sun sank hopelessly beneath the opposite horizon with a sense of totally wasted effort. And a few hours later it reappeared, squared its shoulders and started on up the sky again.
