"Viktor can," Balit pointed out. "He grew up here."
Markety stared at the boy, then, with sudden respect, at Viktor. "Really," he marveled. "Could you some time, Viktor? Perhaps after Grimler comes back? I know she'd be thrilled."
"Certainly Viktor will dance for you," Balit said graciously. "We'll need music, but I'll ask Forta to transmit some."
"Wonderful," Markety breathed, and if he had been a hospitable host before, now he was almost overwhelming. The scariness of Viktor's ideas about Nebo were forgotten. Markety selected the finest fruits for Viktor and Balit, and would not eat himself until convinced they were satisfied. But he was beaming. "Isn't this fine? The rain, and such good company, and all these things going on around us? I can't tell you how glad we are that we're here—Grimler and me—I mean, when she's here."
Maybe it was the wine. Certainly there had been a lot of it, but for whatever reason, Viktor couldn't help asking, "How come? I mean, I didn't think you habitat people liked planets all that much."
Markety looked both proud and embarrassed. "Grimler and I aren't like all the habitat people," he stated confidently. "I admit some of our friends think we're crazy, but—actually, we like it here. Grimler's said many times things are just too easy in the habitats. There's no challenge. And here's a whole planet that we can make live again—we just want to do our little part in bringing that about. So our lives will be worth something, do you understand? And she'd be here now, except for—"
Markety hesitated for a moment, then, grinning, pulled the blue beret off his head.
It was the first time Viktor had seen him bareheaded. Beside him, Balit made a startled little sound as they both saw that Markety's forehead was emblazoned with the fertility emblem.
"That's right," he said, with that same mixture of pride and embarrassment. "Grimler and I decided we even wanted to have our own baby! Not that there's anything wrong with what Nrina does," he added swiftly. "That's all very well for those who prefer it. But we wanted one who was our natural child, not programmed ahead of time, and so … well, we just went ahead and did it, the old-fashioned way. We made Grimler what you call 'pregnant.' "
"I'm amazed," Viktor declared truthfully.
"Oh, everybody is," Markety said modestly. "But that's what we want—someone who can grow up here on Newmanhome, and not have to take all those pills and injections, and—well, to be more or less just like you, Viktor!"
And that was when there was a scrambling at the door and Jeren turned up, soaked and glistening with rain, his face white with misery.
"Viktor!" he croaked. "The farm! We were just up there checking on everything, and it's gone! All of it! All the seedlings! They're just washed away!"
And behind him Manett came raging in. "Curse you, Viktor! You made us dig that ditch, and now it's just ruined everything!"
And when the worst of the storm was over, and bits of blue were beginning to appear in the east, and Viktor trudged up to look, every word had been true. A healthy stream poured through the new aqueduct, and right on through the little planted area. Not everything was gone, quite. But only a few rows highest up, farthest from the irrigation ditch, survived; everything else was furrowed and glistening mud.
"We should have directed the ditch into some kind of holding pond," Viktor said remorsefully. "And we shouldn't have planted on a hillside like this in the first place—I didn't think about erosion. Especially with all that bare ground up the hill." He shook his head in self-reproach. "I should have known," he said.
"Damn right you should," Manett snarled.
The next day it was as though the storm had never been, the sky cobalt, the sun warm, hardly a cloud in the sky.
But the storm's traces had not gone away. It wasn't just the farm. The street of the little community was ankle deep in brown, gluey mud. Nothing with wheels could move in it. Even the gillie litter bearers could make little headway, their furred feet turning into balls of clinging, sticky stuff; the habitat people painfully picked their way along, one slow step at a time, when they had to go out. Most of them chose to spend the day indoors.
Yet Balit was entering the communications shed at the end of the street. Viktor saw the boy and felt a moment's surprise, but he was talking to Jeren. "We'll have to find a new place for the farm," he said. "On a level. Preferably with some sort of a ridge between it and the hills, so if there's a flood it'll be diverted away from the plants. And near enough to a stream so we can irrigate."
"I don't think we can go looking for a place today," Jeren said doubtfully.
"No, not until the ground dries out a little," Viktor agreed. "And we'll have to do something here, too. I don't suppose we can pave the street, but maybe we could plant grasses all around the village to hold the soil when it rains."
"We can do that," Jeren agreed, looking over Viktor's shoulder. "Viktor? I think Balit's waving to you."
When Viktor turned, he saw it was true. When he trudged his way to the communications shack, the mud sucking at his feet at every step, the boy was bubbling with pleasure. "Viktor, come inside, please. Right away! I've just had a message from Moon Mary that I want you to see!"
There was no denying Balit's excitement. Viktor supposed it would be another loving communication from Frit or Forta, or both of them; for those came almost every day.
It was neither Frit nor Forta. When the picture came on it was a cluster of Balit's schoolmates, laughing and excited. They weren't in their classroom. They were gathered around a plot of ground with bright-green, healthy-looking seedlings poking out of it. "See, Viktor? They did what you said," Balit said proudly.
"What I said?"
"That we should have the soil analyzed. Pelly had some clods on the cryonics capsules he was bringing back, so I asked my school to take it on as part of their project."
"What project?" Viktor demanded.
"They've taken on Newmanhome as a project," Balit explained. "Not just the soil—that's only part of it. But they had it tested to see what it needed, and then they added things. Look at the difference now!"
Viktor stared at him, incredulous. "One little class of kids did that?"
"They're not just kids, Viktor—they're as old as I am. Besides, Grimler helped."
"Grimler? Markety's wife?"
"Yes, of course. She's there, too; you'll see her in a minute. And it wasn't just my class, anyway," Balit declared. "All over the habitats there are schools that have Newmanhome projects. You wanted to know what I was doing with all the pictures I took? Half the schools in the orbits have been watching them. All the kids are getting into it, Viktor—and, look, there's Grimler now!"
Indeed, there she was, slim as ever, looking radiant. "Pelly's going to bring two tons of the 'fertilizer' stuff on his next trip, Balit. And, oh, has Markety told you the good news? He's a boy," she said, glowing with pleasure. "Perfectly healthy, and he is going to have Markety's hair and eyes. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Well, I'll have to congratulate Markety," Viktor said with warmth. "I'm delighted, only—" He was staring at the woman on the screen. "Had she had the baby already?" he asked, gazing at Grimler's flat midsection. "I didn't think there was time—"