"That's a once-in-a-lifetime shot, compadre. Our sponsors expect it.
National Geographic wants us to show Earth's land-starved masses the joys of homesteading in the stars—"
"There goes the local neighborhood."
"—and one of its joys is the chance to become a hero, like Avalon's greatest citizen, Cadmann Weyland, sometimes yclept Beowulf."
Sylvia whistled her approval.
Cadmann laughed disgustedly. "All right, all right. Get the rest of your damned footage and let's quit."
"Deal."
The camera ran. Carlos declaimed. They walked the perimeter of the cleared rectangle that would one day be the greenhouse. They skirted a new excavation to the northeast.
"And here," Carlos continued theatrically, "will one day reside the finest wine cellar on Camelot. Stored on board Geographic are frozen cuttings from some of California's finest vineyards. Someday, when the basic crops have stabilized, it may be time to start less... vital foodstuffs." He cleared his throat. "Purely for medicinal purposes, of course."
"Carlos, don't you know that grapes can be eaten straight?"
"No hablo ingles."
They walked down the narrow path beside the house, past the massive boulder rigged as a deadfall, set to crush anything trying to force its way uphill. Cadmann winced as Carlos pretended to lean against it. Sylvia circled to get a better view. "This is probably an unnecessary precaution. The grendels are dead, slain by Colonel Cadmann Weyland. Even so, our Cadmann is a cautious fellow."
Cadmann raised his hand in protest. "Carlos. You've got to stop this. I don't like being painted as Beowulf. I just did what had to be done. I can't encourage this. I'm not interested in running for God."
"This isn't reality. This is theater."
"If it was only going to be seen throughout the solar system, fine.
But you're going to show it down in the Colony, too. It's not good for them, it's not good for me."
Cadmann left them and followed Tweedledum downhill. He knew that the colonists just wanted to thank him, and yet somehow it all seemed meaningless.
Sure, you saved the Colony. Right.
But Ernst is dead, and he was the only one you were really responsible for, dammit.
He stopped down by the Dopey Joe cages. Their flock had grown to twenty, and Carlos had created a modular cage design for Mary Ann, simple to build or expand, easy to clean. Cadmann was happy with the new model, and the sight of it eased his annoyance. He put on another smile for the cameras.
Just a few more minutes of this nonsense.
Mary Ann was suddenly beside him, holding Justin as if he were their own child. They'd love this image back on Earth. He leaned over and kissed her warmly. "Feeding time for our flock?"
"Just about. Justin is a nice baby," she whispered, "but ours is going to be much prettier."
"Hush." Cadmann grinned as Carlos and Sylvia caught up with them. He slipped a glove on, lifted a handful of green fodder into the slit at the top of Missy's cage.
He raised his voice as Sylvia focused. "And these little darlings are called ‘Dopey Joes,' the only indigenous mammalians found on Camelot so far. They may hold the key to a treasure trove of—ow!"
Missy snapped her sharp little teeth into his glove, and Cadmann struggled to twist it free without breaking her furry neck.
"Bad girl." Sylvia laughed. "No dessert for you. You can't just eat the meat and ignore your vegetables—"
"Hah hah. Funny lady. That's it. I'm through." He pulled off his glove and threw it at Carlos, who caught it and thoughtfully examined the rip in the fingertip.
"Not exactly sheep, are they, Senora Weyland?"
"Baa baa." Mary Ann took Justin to Sylvia. "Unhook that camera and give it to Carlos. Will you take Justin? I want to talk to Cadmann."
There was a quick, clumsy exchange of burdens, and Mary Ann hooked her arm through Cadmann's.
"Carlos and Sylvia staying for dinner?" she asked. He heard her distantly, but gazed up at the expanded house, strong and solid in the warm Avalonian sunlight.
Up at the top of the hill, Gregory Clifton's bronzed, corded body arched, swinging a pick to break up resistant soil.
As with Carlos, the violent action and backbreaking labor of the pasts months had burned out Greg's hatred and healed his emotional wounds. Cadmann found it easy to respect that response, that need.
"Are Carlos and Sylvia staying?"
"Sure."
Mary Ann took his hand and led him to the edge of the bluff. They looked down over the valley. They had done so very much, and given time would do more. He didn't have to close his eyes to visualize the march of humanity across the valley, the slow spread of their cities. His grandchildren might live to see a city of a hundred thousand where once only jungle had sprawled.
But false heroes wouldn't help. Especially if they were used as a blind for guilt and uncertainty.
"I'm worried too," Mary Ann said quietly.
"I'm sorry. Am I upsetting you? It's nothing, really."
"You have your reasons, I have mine." He held her tummy and frowned.
"I think you think I'm a little crazy."
"Pregnant women are supposed to be a little crazy. What's my excuse?"
"Don't need an excuse, you've got reasons, silly. I just know that something still bothers me about... Cad, I look around and the picture's wrong,"
"It's an alien planet. Didn't anyone tell you? Two moons, bluer sunlight, critters and plants straight out of Oz—"
Sylvia moved up beside her, cradling Justin in her arms. His hair was pale straw, and he seemed to fit comfortably into a shoulder harness. He nursed contentedly at one discreetly covered nipple. "I know what you mean," she said. "We're still working on the corpses. I don't understand enough about grendels yet. I'd give anything to have one alive. If we'd known that they could burn themselves up like that, we might have cooled the last one off with water."
"It was that hot?"
Sylvia laughed. "It cooked itself."
"Heat. Fire," Mary Ann muttered.
"What?"
Mary Ann cuddled close to Cadmann. "I remember... I did a summer of study in the forests in Wyoming. And they told us about fires. It all seems like a million years ago." Cadmann hugged her comfortingly as she searched her memory, struggling to make the unlikely connection. "They told us about what happens in fall. Then, a forest fire that seems to be out can smolder under a mat of leaves. You can't see it. You can't smell it. But it's spreading underneath. It can surround you. And then suddenly break up to the surface, and whoosh!"
"Shh... "
"I'm so glad you're here," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're mine. Don't let anything happen to you, Cadmann. I'm not sure I'd know how to go on. I'm not sure I'd want to."
He was aware that Carlos and Sylvia were nearby, watching, and was also aware when they turned away to give the two of them privacy. For a moment Cadmann and Mary Ann were in their own secret world of warmth and familiar smells.
"Come on," he said soothingly. "Let's get dinner started for our crew."
The evening's meal was a simple affair, an open-air picnic around a roaring campfire. Decent-sized catfish and a huge samlon from the nets were the main course, cooked into a casserole with long-grain brown rice from the hydroponics garden down at the Colony. Carlos and Sylvia and Hendrick's four-man work team joined them.
Cadmann watched Mary Ann pick over her food. She had a strong appetite for rice and catfish, but couldn't bring herself to eat samlon. "More for the rest of us," he had teased her at first, but her glum smile told him that the joke had died.