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No world would ever be tamed by robots. It took men, crossing space, some awake, some chilled, a hundred years across space—The early days were good days. We were comrades in an untamed land.
Then we found Paradise, and they don't need me at all. They need Sylvia. They need the engineers, and the tractor drivers, and, God help us, the administrators and bean counters, but never a soldier.
Sheep and calves roamed the pastures now. Colts grazed. Soon the camp would be full of children, alive with their happy wet smells and sounds; and what need had those for Colonel Cadma
Animals... a distant lowing snapped Cadma
In the distance one of the farmers slowed his tractor to wave to them, and Ernst lifted two samlon in triumphant greeting. Further ahead Cadma
There were rows of wheat and spinach and soybeans, and in the mist-filtered glare of Tau Ceti their leaves and stalks glistened healthily. At the base of the rows ran the irrigation ditches, fed by the stream that passed under the low bridge just ahead, flowing past the camp and over the edge of the bluff to join the Miskatonic River.
The sounds of the main camp drifted to them. The hum of light machinery, the crackle of laughter and the whining burr of saws and lathes working wood and metal.
The animal pens were on the outskirts of the main camp. Dogs and pigs had their own pens, the horses a well-fenced ru
Cadma
"Let it go," Sylvia chided.
"Look at this." His voice was flat with disgust. "The strands are slack, and the power line is broken. Doesn't anybody give a damn anymore? We haven't been here long enough to get this lazy."
"Cad—" Sylvia's pale slender fingers covered his, prying them away from the strand. She gripped his hand tightly.
"Look, I know I keep getting outvoted, and I can live with that." He was mortified to hear the petulance creeping into his voice, to see the maternal concern softening her eyes. "Listen. You keep telling me that there are things about this island that bother you. We've only got one shot at this. Nobody's going home, and no one's sending any reinforcements. It only makes sense to be a little paranoid. That's why we picked an island, isn't it? To localize the dangers?"
She squeezed his arm. "I can't change your mind, so I'll try not to want to. Listen. Why make a big thing about it? Why not just fix the fence yourself?"
"Sounds good."
"Good. I'll send for you when we're ready for the barbecue."
Just before they took the last turn into town, Cadma
The sun was warm, but far warmer was Sylvia's hand against his arm.
The community had grown in a strangely organic ma
Perimeters. Three rings. Electric fence, minefield, barbed wire. It made sense at the time.
Cadma
And one of these days they'll make me go dig up the mines. No enemies.
No dangers. Nothing. And all that fucking work to build fences.
Most of the colonists had only been awake for eight months, and already they were begi
As they had been awakened and shuttled down, the camp expanded, filling the defensive compound, then spreading outside it. From above, the Colony looked like a spiral nebula or a conch shell sliced sideways. Cadma
The colonists outside the fence had more room, larger lots—but their location showed their status. Colonists. They were not among the First Ones. Everyone on Avalon was equal, but some were more equal than others. The First Ones had landed four months earlier and had social status—at least those who hadn't wasted time and effort building needless fences and mine fields had status.
The muffled whirr of a power saw grew louder, and the dry smell of sawdust more distinct, as Cadma
Carlos's dark, lean body glistened with perspiration as he glided the saw over the planks. The thorn trees at the perimeter of the clearing provided a generous supply of wood, but it was knotty and coarsely grained. Only a master craftsman like Carlos could have made anything but firewood of it, and the carpenter was deliciously aware of his valued position.
Half the Colony's dwellings had a table or bed frame by Carlos. It was doubtful that he would ever have to take his rotation in the field to earn his share of the crop.
"Cadma
"Senora," Cadma
"Senora." Carlos smiled mischievously. "It is true that sometimes I forget."
"It'll get easier to remember." He patted his stomach. "She's got a passenger on board now."
Carlos raised his eyebrows in lecherous speculation. "She is taking on good flesh, no? My people, we appreciate a—" he screwed up his mouth in a dramatic search for the right word—"a substantial woman."
"Substantial."
"Si! A helpmate in the fields, a comfort by the fireside. Ah, the days of old..."
"Cut the crap," Cadma
Behind him Carlos sighed. "With men like you, who can wonder that romance is dying in the world?" The rest of his monologue was drowned out as the saw revved up again.
Cadma