by Larry Niven
"Come on." Moscowitz flipped up the filthy goggles. "Gives me a whole new outlook on life. George, give the Colonel a drink, will you? Cad, we're not on duty tonight. Smell the sea and drink the beer and the hell with it."
Cadmann didn't laugh. The salt breezes tickled his nose now, and it cleaned away some of his worry. But he'd lost Zack's dog!
Zack was still talking. "I don't suppose that this really impacts on you. Cad, but I've been a paper pusher most of my life. Administration type."
"You're still the only man I know with pencil calluses behind his ear."
"Ah, but things aren't the same anymore. I still ride a keyboard, but I ride it light-years from home, on a planet still two twitches this side of the Jurassic."
"And so?" Cadmann could hear the breakers now, rolling in steady rhythm against the shore.
"And so on Earth I made decisions and was responsible for maybe one five-billionth of what happened on the planet. Here, I'm one one hundred and sixtieth of this planet's history. I'll have cities, states named after me. We'll be in the history books, Cadmann, and schoolchildren will know our names."
They always did name cities after their founders. They used to name them after warriors, too, but what's to fight here?
The jeep slowed to a crawl as the road ended at the edge of the beach. Bonfires had already been lit and tended down to a low roar, and the other colonists waved in greeting.
Minerva One was ass-on to the beach. A team had anchored a winch in the rock so that the shuttle could be pulled up after landing. Nice design there. Land on water, take off on water, never worry about finding an airport. Its desalinization plant was a box floating alongside, with membranes inside to filter the seawater. The shuttle would be flying up to the mother ship tomorrow, one of Sylvia's monthly jaunts. She wouldn't be able to take it next month. Regardless of her protests, no one was going to allow an obviously pregnant biologist to undergo unnecessary g-stresses.
As soon as the jeep slewed to a halt, Cadmann and the others piled out. A cooler lay open on the beach. Cadmann fished out a pouch of cold beer. "Zack! I knew you were the right man to head up this trip."
"Damn straight. You have no idea how hard I fought for that beer." He dipped into the cooler and extracted a pouch. "We'll have our brewery next year."
"Thirty months?" Hendrick Sills shouted, his arm tight around Phyllis's admirably trim waist.
"Earth year," Zack answered. The Avalon year was two point six times as long as Earth's.
Cadmann was crowded away from the cooler by three enthusiastic partygoers. Cadmann grabbed a spare pouch, then took one of the young women by the shoulder. "Mary Ann. Juniper berries."
"Eh?" Mary Ann Eisenhower looked wary. Her blond hair was plastered down with ocean spray. "What?"
"Juniper berries. You're in agriculture. Did we bring the seeds?"
Mary Ann wrapped her towel around her shoulders more tightly, brushed a few grains of sand away from her cleavage. "Cadmann, I don't know! Why?"
"I want to make the first drinkable martini on Tau Ceti Four. That will earn me a statue."
She frowned, then grinned widely. "You're on. I'll look!" She reached toward him shyly. "Uh, want to swim?" Like many of the others, she had stripped down to shorts.
"Cold, isn't it?"
"Sure! But it's nice when you get out." She reached toward him.
"Mary Ann! Come on!" Joe Sikes called. Cadmann didn't like him. His wife had had a baby only a week before, and he was already running after other women.
Mary Ann turned, mouth set in a line. "If you're in such a hurry, why don't you just go find Evvie?"
Joe glowered, unable to think of an answer, and slunk back toward the ocean.
"Cad?"
It was Sylvia. Cadmann turned. "Speaking." The corner of his eye caught Mary Ann disappearing toward the water. Where Sikes was waiting. It irritated him, and he wondered why he gave a damn.
Sylvia was over by the fire. She wore a two-piece swimsuit, something from an Earth designer who had understood what to conceal and what to reveal.
Cadmann started toward her, then stopped as Terry came into the circle of firelight. Terry kissed her cheek, then took the roasted samlon steak from her stick and handed her a much bigger one. Terry chewed contentedly.
"Ah-Cad, did you fix the fence?" Sylvia asked.
A voice too close behind Cadmann laughed. "I am not the only admirer of Senorita Faulkner, si?"
"Senora. Go jump in a thorn bush. Here." He tossed his spare beer pouch over his shoulder. "Think fast! Good catch."
A guitar twanged nonsensically, then produced a tune Cadmann had not heard since his youth. Mamie McInnes played while Barney Car and her husband, Jerry, sang with good-natured tonelessness. Two much better voices dominated the choruses from somewhere on the far side of the fire: Ernst and La Donna Stewart.
Phyllis danced for her own pleasure, for the colonists, and most especially for Hendrick, who watched her with pride and hunger.
Carolyn watched for a few seconds, then humphed and stamped off.
Carlos watched Phyllis for a dozen bars, examining her movement with the eye of a master sculptor inspecting a block of marble. "She is good, that one," he said offhandedly. "She must learn the real flamenco technique."
"And you'll be glad to teach her."
"But of course."
"Go for it. Talk to Hendrick though. She may need a teacher, but he definitely needs a sparring partner."
"Sparring partner? No comprendo."
"Hendrick Sills was Golden Gloves middleweight champ about six years before we left Earth. Bet he'd love to discuss it with you."
"On the other hand..."
Cadmann ambled over to the roasting pit.
Spicy meat smells rose from the grill. Much of the food was reconstituted, pouched and freeze-dried and soaked in water or wine-but there were two chickens and a turkey. Cadmann imagined he had known from the smell.
Morale must be worse than I thought if Zack authorized this burnt offering. Lost crops and too much work.
Thornwood logs made excellent coals when hot enough. The oily wood smoldered with a tantalizing hickory scent that blended nicely with the moist breeze from the ocean. Twin moonglades danced in the surf.
Sylvia poked in the grill with a long metal skewer. She glanced to her left where Terry was eating. He wasn't half finished. "Almost done. Cad." She turned the samlon steak. Even this cross section of the creature was queer, unearthly. The meat was pink like salmon, but two big arteries showed alongside its heavy spine-for heavier gravity-and the shape showed its flattened belly and strong bones.
"Big enough for two, Cad. Another minute."
"Sure." He sat beside her. "Hi."
"Hi yourself. I thought you might not come."
"So you sent Terry to fetch me."
"Sure." She speared a samlon. "Just right. Share?"
"Love to."
She hoisted it up and nibbled at it, and sputtered as she burned her mouth. Cadmann couldn't help laughing at the face she made. She looked serious, pointed toward the stars, and when he looked up, stuffed one of the hottest portions into his mouth. "Laugh at me, will you?"
"Molten metal, molten metal-you do know the punishment for witches, Esmeralda."
"Sure, they hanged her goat. But Charles Laughton will give me sanctuary. Have some more."
He held up his hands in protest. "No, thanks. My tongue would never forgive me." But the first fragment had cooled, and it tasted fine. Taste of salmon, texture of... what? It wasn't flaky like fish. Beef heart? Striated, no fat...
She jabbed the second portion at him again, and he splashed some sand at it. "Get that poor dead thing away from me before I spank you."
Her eyes sparkled. "You..." Terry was close behind her, close enough that she fell silent, smiled and went back to tending the sizzling barbecue. Terry watched her go, then sat next to her with his cooling plate of canned vegetables. He stared across the sea.
Erns
t and La Donna stood up from where they'd been eating, buried turkey bones into the dark and walked after them. Ernst waved cheerfully as they passed. Cadmann smiled but didn't wave; he could see La Donna's sudden embarrassment.
Good. Salvage those good genes. La Donna! With luck the kids would look like Ernst, too. La Donna was nice, but plain.
Cadmann moved to the edge of the magic circle of light, away from the others. The waves seemed vast inky shapes, rolling up and thrashing themselves into foam on the sand. There were shrieks of pleasure from the colonists playing in the water. A pleasantly rounded shape ran from the darkness to the light.
"We have them."
"Have-?"
"Juniper berries, silly. I remembered." Mary Ann shook water onto him and handed him a towel. "Dry me?"
He smiled good-naturedly and buffed her. Her hair was ash-blond, it glowed in the double moonlight, and her skin was baby smooth and clear. Her body was toned and well-rounded. Rubens would have lusted to paint her-or something. Avalon's increased gravity had added six pounds to her weight when she set foot on the ground. All of the colonists showed better muscle tone, and so did Mary Ann.
She giggled and leaned back into him in a clear invitation. Methodically he scrubbed out the wet tips of her hair and worked his way quickly down her body.
She sighed and shuddered slightly. "You have talents I didn't know 'bout, Cad."
"Part of the service. Where's Joe?" He moved his hands under the towel.
Her eyelids fluttered with brief, suppressed pain. "We don't keep track of each other." Her expression tightened. "Ah. I owe you a rub now."
Her skin beneath his hands was cool but growing warm. She's willing, she's nice... nicely shaped... isn't she smart enough? Isn't she Sylvia? He said, "We'll take a rain check on that."
"Coward." Mary Ann brought her pug nose close to his. "I'll never live to see the day."
He winked at her. "I may surprise you yet."
"Hah!" she said, and jiggled off to another bonfire. The men there shouted as she approached.
Cadmann looked determinedly at the twin moons. We can't keep calling them "Big" and "Little." "Cadmus"? That's a good name for a moon-oh, hell, here comes Terry.
Terry Faulkner said, "She's a dish."
"Yes, I've always liked Sylvia."
Terry's nose wrinkled. "Mary Ann. She likes you. She's told me."
Cadmann said nothing. Terry said, "I've noticed that you don't keep company with any of the ladies."
"That's not what I'm here for, Terry."
"True..." Terry's gaze panned from Mary Ann to Sylvia. "But there is one lady you've been spending a lot of time around, you know."
"Come off it. Sylvia and I are just friends."
"I know." There was a cutting edge to Terry's voice. "You were pretty friendly the first three months you were down, while the rest of us were asleep up in the ship." He made harsh squiggling patterns in the sand with his toe.
"What's your point?"
"I'd just feel a lot better about it if you had a nice healthy interest in one of the other ladies, that's all."
Carlos was loitering nearby, his ear innocently turned in their direction. Cadmann cleared his throat loudly. "Now hear this. Boy, would I like a beer right now."
"Con gusto, amigo." Carlos walked away whistling.
"Terry, you must know there is nothing between me and your wife. We talk-"
"A damned lot."
Cadmann pointedly eyed the beer in Terry's hand. "Yes. We talk. And if you talked to Sylvia more, she wouldn't need a friend so badly."
Terry froze. "My relationship with Sylvia is none of your damned business."
"You brought it up. Which makes it my business. We talk, and if you're worried that she looks for more than talk, maybe there's something else you don't give her enough of."
Terry turned away, walked two steps and turned back. "You really are an asshole, Weyland." He turned away.
"Terry."
Faulkner stopped. "What?"
"Did you think that getting Sylvia knocked up as soon as they thawed you out would hang a big ‘hands off' sign on her?"
There was a sudden lull in the air around them. Every face near them was carefully, deliberately turned away from the exchange. Cadmann's face heated, suddenly flushed with blood. Terry's hands hooked into claws, and his mouth worked silently.
Too loud! Aw, shit.
The thin man kicked at the fire, sending a burst of sparks into the air. "You know, Weyland, I don't really care what went on before I woke up. Because you're not the big man anymore. You're not a farmer, you're not a builder. You're not even an engineer. You're just an assistant navigator, and an extremely expendable security arm." He leaned closer to Cadmann, who lowered his eyelids slightly. "I hear that you want to be part of the mainland expedition I'm putting together. Just watch your step. Be very careful that you don't suddenly become obsolete. I'd hate to see Colonel Weyland pulling weeds or mucking out the stables to earn his bread."
He turned and stalked away.
Wordlessly, Carlos tossed Cadmann a pouch of beer.
Cadmann bit it open and took a mouthful of brew, feeling some of the foam running down his chin. Terry grabbed Sylvia by the arm and pulled her aside for a talk. His gestures were violent and jerky, like a puppet with tangled strings. Sylvia's face was impassive, her answers calm, and finally he quieted.
The entire beach seemed to heave a sigh of relief, and slowly the music and laughter rose up from a soft burr and swallowed the silence.
Carlos poked his arm. "He's wrong about you, isn't he, amigo? You've never made a move on the lovely lady."
"Not yet."
"Meaning?" Carlos's dark face was split in a suggestive grin.
"Meaning that I'm going for a walk."
"Have a good walk, amigo! I think I'm going to investigate Carolyn."
"She's a tease."
"She's also depressed. I have just the thing for her."
"Your generosity never ceases to amaze me. Bon appetit." Cadmann moved off down the beach, toward and past the huge beached shuttle. He didn't stop until he was lost in the shadows. When Marnie's guitar was no more than broken rhythm against the surf he turned to look at the wavering lights and listen to the sounds downbeach. The night wind brought a whiff of seaweed and salt and roast samlon, and the sound of merriment.
A finger stroked lightly along his spine, and he turned, startled. Mary Ann smiled at him. She was breathing heavily, wet sand splashed along her calves from a jog in the surf. Her eyes were wide and luminously dark. "You're a strange one," she said. "You know how I can always find you?"
"How?" He reached out, lacing his fingers behind her neck. Impossibly, her skin seemed cool and hot at the same time. I don't want you, he said silently, but I need...
"I just look for where people are having fun, they're getting together. Enjoying themselves. There you are. Cadmann Weyland, off to the side, watching."
Go away. Just go away, he thought, drawing her closer. "Watching," he said. She shivered as he traced a circle under her ear. "I don't always just watch." Suddenly, he wanted very, very much to put the lie to her words.
Her eyes reflected the glowing surf. When she spoke again, her voice was husky. "Well, I tell you what. Why don't you show me what you do when you're not just watching?" She linked her arms around his neck.
He didn't know whom he needed to convince more, himself or Mary Ann. But there are times when twin aims share a single purpose, like twin moons casting a single shadow.
She took his hand and led him away from the campfires, toward warmth.
Something was ahead of her. Sheena strained to reach it. A shadow bigger than herself, it seemed to move in jumps, waiting until she was almost on top of it, then streaking away into the dark, cutting behind the animal cages, across the stream, into the cultivated ground.
Sheena yipped in confusion, disbelieving what she had seen. Machines moved that quickly, but not animals. She sniffed the
ground. The new smell was already faint, so fast had it moved, but there was no mistaking it. Wet and warm, and unlike men or calves or chickens or anything in the compound: the stink of it was a mortal insult! She streaked after it, splashing through the icy water, shaking her fur before continuing on into the dark.
She was beyond the plowed area, into the zone filled with burnt crumbled tree stumps and sprigs of tough grass just now puffing up through the blackened crust of the earth. Where was it? Clouds were moving across the smaller moon, and Sheena sniffed the ground again, purring low in her throat.
The cloud cover parted for a moment.
There on the hillock, black with lunar highlights, sat something inexplicable. A thousand generations of instincts couldn't identify it. Big. Not man. No ancestor had hunted this thing, none had fled and lived to remember. Her cortex knew what it was not, but could not say what it was.
Unknown. A threat. It might harm man or man's children. Kill!
The thing cocked its head sideways and cooed.
The sounds were disturbing. What had ever sounded like that? Where were the men? Sheena's ears flattened back against her head. This was not a dog's job. There were no men here. Sheena leaped to do battle.
One moment it was there, and Sheena's teeth were snapping at its neck. Her teeth closed on nothing. It receded like a cloud-shadow beneath the moon, and returned as fast, and now it was on Sheena's back. Its cold, broad feet clamped around her middle with sudden, terrifying strength. Sheena's ribs sagged inward. She snarled her agony and rolled to mash the thing from her back.
It walked off her while she was rolling and was several feet away. Fast, unfairly fast! Thick fleshy lips pulled back from daggerlike teeth in a grimace of pleasure. Lovingly it cooed to Sheena.
Sheena was terrified now, but she leaped.
She was in the air when the creature rolled. Its jaws flashed up and locked on her throat, reducing her death scream to no more than a terrified hiss. It drew back into the shadows before she hit the ground.
She lay on her side, struggling weakly to breathe, bubbles of air shining blackly in the moonlight as they pulsed from her throat.
She watched her killer draw close, stared into its eyes, its huge, soft, silver eyes. She whimpered.