“I think we heard the hunter's call back on the way over here,” I said, and Soren agreed. “I didn't hear any calls last night, at least none woke me up.” “No, me either,” he said. “And we're right next door to where the remains were found. Basilio and Laure never heard a thing either. I'm planning to check the beacon later and see if it registered any odd noises. It's not going to pick up much, it's only there to pick up loud noises very near itself, and it's in the front of the town hall, not the back.”
“Creeps me out,” I said finally, grumpily. “That it comes in under the cover of such a heavy fog in absolute silence and manages to eat most of a chomper right in our backyard.”
“Well, it didn't kill it there. It just dragged the body there.”
“That's much better,” I said sarcastically. He grinned.
“Yeah, I know. Makes it seem like a statement, dragging it here to eat it in our gazebo.”
You know, it seemed a little less ridiculous this time when someone voiced an anthropomorphizing opinion of the animal's motives. “The good news is it means the herd is nearby. I say we go out and tag some of the animals tomorrow. Knowing where the herd is will help us know when to expect the hunter. If we're really lucky, maybe we'll see – and tag – the hunter. That would really help.”
I thought of little Benjones wandering off with the hunter around and shuddered. “Think I'll check on Harry,” I said, thinking it was a good time to see if we could rig up some alarms for wandering kids – something that would go off if the little devil managed to get out his window or something, some kind of proximity alarm that would warn his parents and alert all of us if he got more than ten meters from his home.
Harry's full in the cramping stage of Jan Spring. Happily he's sedated enough to help him sleep through any non-productive cramps. Natalie Sommers, who'd wandered off into the darkness with Hans Erdich the night we gathered in front of town hall, is sitting at his bedside, napping on a spare cot and helping nurse him through it.
Maybe I wasn't wrong that she has feelings for our engineer.
Eh. I'm too old to care, so I won't. Those young people will figure all this out on their own. Most of them do.
Gonna get my old bones to bed. Got a lot of riding around with Soren to do tomorrow. Goodnight, Marda. I love you.
Night 45
Dear Marda, We found the herd early in the afternoon, and Soren managed to tag about four of the land hippos, as Cadell called them, and two of the chompers. The little wrasskeys evaded his tagging rifle every single time.
The tags won't hurt the animals. They just hit the skin and stick to it for a few months, then fall off, but they can be used to locate the animals on the rolling map. Once located, of course, Soren can come out and study them, even tranq a few for measurements and scans. There's no need to bring actual live animals back to town, though he may bring any dead he finds back.
Makoto Kimura talked a bit about trapping the hunter if need be, if it starts representing a danger to the town. Of course we'd rather not kill it if we don't have to, but if we can trap it, we can relocate it if we have to.
As Earth's history has shown us, though, removing a herd's predators leads to endless troubles with the herds, including a herd that needs to be managed by humans instead of a herd that is managed by nature. Hopefully the hunter comes to avoid our town; getting too close to the aversion fences may do the trick for us. If not we'll move the fence posts until we have an enclosed town instead of enclosed yards.
We can build boundary fences with the reeds. Turns out they're hollow, and fairly pliable when green, but they shrink some and become tough as a soft wood as they dry. They're not toxic, so it looks like I have a new crafting material to mess around with. Bentwood rocking chairs, here I come!
It will be easy enough to stake out yards using the dry reeds as fence posts, then wind green reeds through the posts to make a barrier that won't really keep much out but will attractively delineate where one's yard ends and another begins. They might keep chompers out – or in, should we ever find a reason to domesticate a few, but they wouldn't work on the land hippos or those little purple climbing wrasskeys.
The tallest of the reeds are about three meters tall. I am going to experiment a bit and see if I can't go get some of the taller ones to make a decent – if small – wigamig frame in the hall yard. Seems like a wigamig could be a decent playhouse for the kids during meetings or a break in school. It'll also give me a better idea of the reeds as a crafting material.
I know it's paranoid, but – pardon the expression – shit happens, and I would like to be sure that should some catastrophe happen and the Commonwealth be unable to attend to us anymore, we have materials for building and things to eat, that sort of thing. We have our seeds we've brought with us, and the fish are edible. We can use the grass and the reeds.
We can probably even hunt and eat the herd if we had to. We could domesticate the chompers and use their fur.
I'm sure you can tell I've thought about this more than most people might.
But you know me, I like to be ready for the worst. About the fish, Basilio tested them for toxins, then cooked one of each he had more than one of, and we all got to try a bit. They're a bit sour, and they don't really taste like fish – more like pork seasoned with a bit of vinegar. Not delicious, I'm betting they'll be an acquired taste, and I intend to acquire the taste, just in case.
If need be, we could be a completely self-sufficient town. We could even bring in any of the other groups if their settlements didn't work out for some reason. I have the ok of Tesla Shane and Annya Sanford to go ahead and harvest what I like of the reed grove, just to be sure not to thin it noticeably. Since it sweeps along the coast to the east and north as far as I can see, I don't see that being an issue at the moment. I'll range out from town in the truck to get some material, I won't need to take anything close to town. Young Elyan's asked to come with me tomorrow to get some enough of the reeds to start work on the wigamig.
Now, real wigamigs have birch bark outer coverings, and there's not a birch anywhere on this planet. Instead of having sheets of birch bark to enclose the frame, we'll weave the reeds in and out just like I was thinking for a fence, and then pull living strands of grass up and over to cover it. It'll be half wigamig and half hobbit-hole. The way I see it in my head, it should be big enough for a grown person to stand up in, if bent over a bit. There should be plenty of room for Ayo and Cadell and Eiji to play fort, or for Tundra and Jelly and Catrin to play house during breaks from school.
Speaking of school, I'm scheduled to come in three times a week and tell stories, of all things. I'm to give the parents and Randi a heads up of what story I'll tell so they can tailor lesson plans to fit in with the stories, and they'll tell me what they're working on as far as history or sociology or art or anything that I might have a story to go along with.
Turns out all these folk tales and faery tales might be pretty useful as a teaching tool. Doc Raines will come in after lunch to do some health and fitness work and exercise with the kids. Lunch will be brought up to the school by a different family each day, until our order comes in for the kitchen for the town hall, which we'll tuck into one of the storage crates, and the food stores meant for the school come in.
You and I have contributed to the school budget. Edgerift is going to allocate a basic school budget to see if it ends up being functional, and the Commonwealth will reimburse them if it turns out to be a useful and fiscally responsible learning tool, and everything beyond that is pitched in by people around here. Our initial budget was stretched by needing the food stores and the kitchen, but if need be children could run home for lunch or bring a bag lunch to school. The ongoing budget will cover food, lessons and materials like books that have fees to download, furnishings should we need any replaced or anything new, and Randi Jones' low, low salary.
We, as a town, hired her on to oversee the school Any parent with kids in school is expected to volunteer time and experie
nce, and anyone else who has something to share is welcome to as well. It'll look good on the resumes of the science types, and Bets Almond is interested in the whole thing to see how it fits together with the community. She's volunteered to document the process.
Once we have a kitchen, Makoto Kimura has offered to come make lunches. Cho told me she's glad he has, since he retired he had withdrawn socially, then emotionally, and just didn't seem to know what to do with himself. Seems like he figured out something to do with himself.
The school schedule is Monday through Friday, with a half day on Thursday so we can have the town meeting. It'll start around eight hundred and go until fourteen hundred, with a break for lunch and play from eleven hundred until noon.
Once again – after so long retired, I will be a man with a job. A job that doesn't pay, but a job nonetheless.
Love you. Goodnight, Marda.
Night 46
Dear Marda, Alis fainted this morning, meaning Elyan and I put off our trip to gather reeds so Huw could accompany Alis to see Doc Raines. They met in Doc Raines' home, since Doc's trying to keep people away from those coming down with Jan Spring.
She's fine, fainting is apparently not uncommon during pregnancy. She's to take it easier and drink more fluids.
You know, I'm glad we never had to go through this. I was worried enough about a friend, I can't imagine how much more worried I'd have been about you, all over something “fairly normal”. We agreed to never have kids before we married. You didn't really feel the need to have any then – crowded world, so much wrong with it – and I definitely didn't want any with enough certainty I'd had a vasectomy before we'd ever met. I believe though, that there were times you had thought differently, times I'd watched you watching kids running around or sleeping with a silent pain on your face.
We never revisited the issue. I couldn't have kids, and I knew I'd be a disastrous parent. There was no reopening the discussion, there was no discussion. But it wounded you some, and I'm sorry for the wound. I'm not sorry, though, for all the years we've had together. You are the breath of every happiness I know. Thank you... just, thank you. For you. For us.
Anyway.
So I hung out at the Gethins' while Huw and Alis were seeing the Doc. Elyan was assembling some models he wanted to show me, architectural bits, a Grecian temple and the Eiffel Tower back when it was whole. Catrin had more drawings of Trevor and Liberty, showing them living in Bald Knob, as we're calling the hill with the bare rock top. She climbed up on my lap to show me.
“They don't want to come into town while people are sick,” Catrin said confidentially. “Last time they knew sick people, everything died.”
“Everything?” I asked. “Yes. Faeries died, and the herds, and the hunters, and the flying animals. And the people died so much that they burned their city down and flew away and didn't come back until the landing pad came. We're the first people to live here since then.”
“But not all the faeries died.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “After a while the dying stopped. Sometimes babies still die like the old sickness, though. And in the whole world there's still only twenty seven faeries.”
“I would think the faeries would not like people very much after that,” I said.
“They said we're different. They watched for a while, and we're peaceful, Trevor said.” She beamed. “Isn't it wonderful to be peaceful?”
“I do prefer it,” I rumbled. “Catrin, have you written this down? It's a very interesting tale.”
“Do you think so?” she asked, beaming again.
“Oh, yes. Maybe, if you write it down, someday some old man will be telling this story just like I tell you stories.”
“Oh, I like that,” she said, hopping down. “I am going to write a story about Trevor and Liberty.”
You watch, Marda, that kid's our own Tolkien. Wouldn't surprise me at all if she puts Estoper on the galactic map, so to speak. I don't think Cadell has less imagination, he just has less sit-still and less drive to share what goes on in his curly little head than his more social sister has. He seems to be an excellent spring board for her imagination, though.
So here it is Saturday, and after Alis and Huw got back to their kids, I decided to take my grumpy old ass fishing. I figured anything new I find I'd bring up to the science center, and anything already cataloged and edible I find, I'd cook.
Elyan came with, and I lent him your fishing rod.
After a long, pleasant silence, he cleared his throat. I might be socially dense, but I knew that was a signal the boy was about to chat.
I hunched my shoulders over in avoidance, but it happened anyway.
“Mr Bell, were you married?”
“I am married,” I told him.
“Where's your wife?” he asked, startled out of his train of thought, curious.
“She's off in Commonwealth space. She'll be along later.”
“Oh. What's her name? How long have you been married?”
“Her name's Marda. We've been married since her twenty-seventh birthday, going on forty years ago now.”
“You got married on her birthday?”
“I know, crummy present, right?”
He gave me that quick look to see if I was mad, then chuckled. “She must have picked it out if she married you on her birthday.”
“Yup. She's got terrible taste in gifts. And I just figured it would help me remember the day for our anniversaries.”
“You must miss her,” he said, his voice deepening into empathy. I hunched even further. I am done talking about missing you to anyone but you. He picked up on the cue and we fished in silence for a bit, bringing up a single, fat fish, not a new species but one of the same kind I'd already brought up to the science center. I put him in the eating bucket and named him “Dinner”.
“Mr Bell,” Elyan said tentatively. I sighed. “Mr Bell, how can you tell if a girl likes you?” I figure he wanted to know if Iris Blue liked him, but he didn't ask that. I could have told him Iris Blue liked him, but that wouldn't help him look for signals in the future, when other young people started arriving.
So I explained to him that girls who like you might have a hard time looking at you, might laugh a lot at your jokes, might lean toward you when they talk to you. Might blush a lot, if they were shy like Iris Blue.
At that, Elyan blushed furiously.
“Best way to tell if a woman's got some romantic feelings for you, though, is to ask her. Or kiss her. Or tell her you have feelings for her. Even those don't always work, though.” I snorted and laughed. “Why don't you start with asking her to dance, Elyan?”
“Oh.” He was quiet a long time. “When?”
“I suspect we'll be having another gathering maybe even tomorrow,” I said. “It's been a busy few weeks, it's time for us to celebrate, I think.”
So tomorrow night, I'll let you know, Marda, if young Elyan gathered up enough courage to ask Iris Blue Watson to dance.
For tonight I'll say Elyan and I headed back to town ahead of the sweeping dark of night, and that I fried Dinner up, and he was... well, he was edible.
Goodnight, Marda, my poor wife with the terrible taste in birthday gifts. Sleep well.
Night 47
Dear Marda, Just a short note tonight. We've decided as a group to have a gathering every other Sunday, with people bringing instruments and food. Tesla Shane is making liquor from freeze-dried peaches; knowing our stores will be replenished I gladly brought out my stores.
I actually ended up nudging Iris Blue to go and ask Elyan to dance. I've never seen two people more awkward and eager and both erupting with blushes. If I liked kids, I'd say it was cute. I don't, so I'll just say it didn't cause anything to explode so it can't be that bad.
Cho came and sat with me and watched the two young people dance.
“You know, I hoped she and Katsu would go out,” she said wistfully. “But she and Elyan do like each other very much.”
“There's still time,�
� I said shortly. “They're teenagers, they may hate each other by the end of the night.”
She laughed.
“Lets hope not. First love should last at least a week or two.”
“Here's to that,” I said and raised my glass. She joined me in the toast.
“There will be more,” I said after a while. “More people will come. And Briallen and Tundra and Jelly will be teenaged girls more sooner than later.”
“True. I just hope he doesn't start getting interested in one of the older women! That's a painful first crush.”
“I don't have any kids, so my advice is surely limited, but my understanding is, you can't guard their hearts for them.”
“You can damn well try!” she said, with more fierceness than I think she meant to, but then she laughed. “You'll fail, they'll get sick of you, but you can try.”
“I think a lot of things work like that,” I said. “You gotta try and balance meddling and leaving alone and hope you find the right mix. I think you're doing fine, for what it's worth. You got good kids.”
“Thank you,” she said, and lifted her glass. I joined her in her toast.
After things started winding down, I brought Harry Randolph a shot of the last of the brandy. He was recovering and had stayed home to nap.
“I'm going to save this until I'm sure I won't ruin the whole experience by puking,” he said dryly. “And then I am going to really, really enjoy it, thank you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Without your help, I can't imagine how many nights we'd have spent chasing little Benjones Almaric.”
He grinned. “I'm still just waiting for him to figure a new way around the ways we try to protect him. He's a great tech tester.” I'd have toasted that, but I was feeling a little over-toasted by then, and ambled my way home, turned on my fence, then came and sat here beneath our canopy to listen to the sea and try to write as coherently as possible to you. I don't want to miss another night's letter.
Planetfall For Marda Page 12