Campfire
'Once upon a long, long time ago, our parents and grand-
parents left a place called Earth. They travelled across the 
stars in a ship called Geographic to find paradise. But 
their paradise turned into a living hell.. .'
The campfire jetted white flame as it reached a gum 
pocket in the horsemane log. The flame held for almost a 
minute, then died back to glowing coals. A cast-iron skillet 
balanced on firestones sizzled in the embers. A sudden gust 
momentarily sent sparks toward the misty night sky and 
the stars frozen overhead.
A dozen wide-eyed youngsters were packed shoulder-
tight on makeshift seats of logs and stones, huddled 
expectantly in the dying firelight. They had waited all 
their lives for this night.
Justin Faulkner's voice growled, caressed, leapt, burned 
hotter than the ebbing flames. 'From the stars they came,' 
he stage-whispered, 'seeking to build homes where no 
human had ever walked. Avalon was a land untamed, 
stretching beneath a sky strange to human eyes. A para-
dise for the taking. These men and women were the best,


the smartest and the bravest Earth could offer, two hun-
dred chosen from eight billion people. Our parents. They 
are the Earth Born. But they didn't know the truth about 
their new world, a truth that you -' his long, sensitive 
fingers, sculptor's fingers, bunched and stabbed as if each 
and every child was guilty of unspeakable crimes - 'you 
Star Born, have never been told . . . until now. Until this 
week. Until tonight.'
Justin's voice carried the authority and infinite wisdom 
of all his nineteen years. None of the children was older 
than thirteen. Now they were youngsters, Grendel Biters. 
Tonight would be their first step toward becoming 
Grendel Scouts. At dawn they had left the human settle-
ment called Camelot and hiked across the plain, along 
the Miskatonic River, then up Mucking Great Mountain 
along the minor tributary called the Amazon. Lunch and 
dinner had been little more than stream water.
Their curious and eager shining eyes were black and 
brown and blue and jade, carrying genetic gifts from every 
people of Earth. Their limber young bodies were as perfect 
as the night stars, their minds filled with dreams more 
incandescent still. These were the exhausted young inher-
itors of a world new to Man.
'... the rivers were filled with a fish they called samlon. 
And they caught the fish, and ate the fish . . .' Justin 
slipped a knife from his belt sheath. He poked its point 
about in the smoking pan, skewering a morsel of sizzling 
meat. He held it up, worrying the ragged, black-burnt 
chunk of flesh with his teeth. Then he passed both pan 
and knife to his right, to a ten-year-old girl with blonde 
shoulder-length hair.
She bit gingerly at first, then harder to tear a piece 
loose. The texture resembled tough beef, not at all like 
fish. She chewed - and the meat bit back. She clawed at 
her throat, gasping, but managed to pass both pan and


knife to her right. A boy dark-skinned as the surrounding 
night made a choking sound and whispered, 'Water . . .'
Their eyes misted. Some struggled with wretched 
coughs, but no one moved. The pan circled the campfire 
until there was nothing left but smoking iron.
'But one night the river which gave life to the colony 
brought death. Even now, even here, high up on Mucking 
Great, if the wind is very quiet, on a night like tonight, 
you can hear old Misk calling . . .'
Justin trailed off. With superbly theatrical timing, the 
wind dwindled to a murmur. There in the distance roared 
the mighty Miskatonic, rushing past the foot of Mucking 
Great... or was that only the Amazon?
'The samlon developed legs, and teeth, and a taste for 
human blood. They became . . . grendels. They clawed 
their way from the river, gasped air and found it good. 
They moved so fast that other animals looked like statues 
to them. They slaughtered everything they saw. Our par-
ents fought back, but it was no use. The camp was lost. 
Cadmann Weyland led the survivors here to his strong-
hold on Mucking Great, where they made their last stand.
'And there' - Justin's thin finger cast an unsteady 
shadow toward the irregular chunk of stone called 
Snailhead Rock - 'that was where my father died, torn to 
pieces by the ravening horde. And there on the verandah 
is where Phyllis McAndrews was killed, still screaming 
reports to the orbiting crew of Geographic. And there -' 
Justin was lost in the story now, beginning to hyperventi-
late - 'others were caught, torn apart and devoured by 
frenzied grendels moving faster than eyes could see. Down 
there by the cliff edge ' - the dark hid it - 'two men waited 
in a wrecked skeeter while grendels battered the walls in 
with their heads. And there was where Joe Sikes sent a 
river of fire flowing down, finally killing the grendels, saving 
every human life-'


Pause. The wind had picked up. When it lulled there 
remained no sound save the rushing waters.
'That was all a long, long time ago. But sometimes on a 
night like tonight, if you press your ear to the ground, you 
can still hear the screams of the dying, as teeth tear their 
flesh open and devour their vitals. And you can thank the 
spirits of the dead that there is no longer anything to fear.
'No more monsters, no more grendels . . .' Justin 
paused for effect. 'But if there are spirits of men, who can 
say that there are not spirits of monsters as well?'
His audience's young eyes were wide, and still. Their 
chests hardly moved as they struggled to keep control. 
The dogs were tethered well away from the campsite, and 
now, sensing the children's fear, they began to growl and 
strain at their leashes.
'Some say that the spirits of the dead war nightly, up 
here on Mucking Great Mountain. Our dead parents and 
grandparents pit rifle and spear and knife against fang 
and claw and speed, night after bloody night. They don't 
want to - but they must. Because if they lose, just once ... 
just once .. .'
He narrowed his eyes fiercely. 'The grendels will claw 
through the portal which separates life from death, and 
return to ravage Avalon again. And not just Avalon. 
They'll go across the stars as we crossed between stars, 
back to Earth . . .'
A light dew of sweat dampened his forehead. His voice 
dropped to a hoarse whisper. 'What was that? Was that a 
scream? It sounded almost like a scream, a human scream. 
The scream of a soul already dead, but dying yet again. A 
soul now cast into some deeper, more terrible pit. And is 
that another? And another-?'
The boys and girls strove to still their breathing and 
quiet their heartbeats, attempting to capture every word.


'But if the ghosts of the humans are dying once again 
then-'
There was a terrible shriek, and from beyond the ring 
of firelight lurched a woman soaked in blood. She stag-
gered, one hand held piteously to her cheek. One eye was 
clotted with gore and the other was insanely wide, as if 
witness to all the terrors of hell.
After her, in a blur, came something inhuman.
Ten feet of hissing reptile bounded into the firelight; 
splay-clawed, barb-tailed, eyes dead to gentleness or love, 
merciless as glass.
It smashed her to the ground, perched atop her and 
howled-!
The children scrambled in all directions, screaming, 
crying-Then silence, save for the crackle of the fire. The 
girl's bloody body lay still upon the ground, grendel 
perched above, triumphant-
And then she sat up, sputtering with mirth. 'Justin 
Faulkner, you are an utter bastard!'
'It's the company I keep, Jessie.' He grinned like a 
shark. 'All right, round 'em up!'
The 'grendel' sat up and a stocky, muscular Japanese 
boy of about seventeen Earth years climbed out of its hol-
low belly. His face was darkened with charcoal and he 
was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Jessica 
slapped him on the back. 'You should make some little 
tiny buildings and some miniature artillery and do a giant 
monster movie, Toshiro.'
'Godzilla versus a hundred-metre grendel?' He 
shrugged out of the grendel skin. 'You know, if we hadn't 
had to rebuild Tokyo every six months, Japan would have 
ruled all of Earth.'
From all around them, just beyond the reach of the 
firelight, larger human figures returned, shepherding


their younger siblings back to the firelight.
'Come on back!' they roared. 'Sissies!'
Shy, embarrassed, the stragglers returned in ones and 
twos. They protested loudly but hid grins behind small 
hands, and wrung crocodile tears from laughing eyes.
Tentatively, then with growing enthusiasm they exam-
ined the hollow grendel carcase, its thick forelegs and 
wide jaws, its stubby spiked tail. They ran their small fin-
gers along its scales, each imagining that it was his father, 
her grandmother, who slew the dragon.
Justin took his place at the centre by the fire, and this 
time spoke in a normal voice. 'All right, it was a joke. Not a 
pointless one. We want you scared. Grendels are dan-
gerous. The Earth Born killed all the grendels here on this 
island. As children you've been safe here all your lives. 
Now it's time to learn about your world, all of it, not just 
this island. We are the Star Born. This world is ours.
'You've seen a dead grendel. Now you're growing up, 
and pretty soon you'll go to the mainland and see live 
grendels. And more. It's time to learn what happened to 
those two hundred, Earth's best and brightest, each of 
those Earth Born chosen from among more people than 
there are stars in our skies.
'Up to now you've lived by Earth Born rules. Now it's 
time for you to learn why they make rules, and why we 
live by them.
'Time to go to the mainland, time to learn why the 
Earth Born act so strange, and - time to learn what eats 
grendels. Now off to sleep. '
The children reluctantly headed toward sleeping bags 
and bed rolls. A few of the candidates tried to ask ques-
tions, but the Grendel Scouts wouldn't answer. 'Bedtime. 
You'll learn, but not tonight. '
'Why not tonight?'
'You'll learn it all. Now scoot!'


'Can Rascal sleep in my bed tonight?'
'Sure, your dog can sleep with you. '
The children tumbled off to bed, pleasantly tired, 
utterly ready for sleep.
Jessica winced as Justin wiped the slaughterhouse blood 
from her face. 'Yerch. Tomato juice would have been just 
as good. '
'Such a thought offends my creative soul. '
'I did like the wasabe in the beef heart, Toshiro. Nice 
little touch. You didn't do that last year. '
'Musashi said to "pay attention even to link things". ' 
Toshiro stretched until his back crackled, and poked his 
bare feet close to the embers.
'I thought it went well, ' Jessica said. 'Just the right bal-
ance. Justin, you brought Sharon McAndrews. She's not 
twelve yet. '
'She's bright, she's curious and she's been asking 
questions about her mother, ' Justin said. 'We have to tell 
her. '
'Zack isn't going to like it. '
'Freeze 'im. '
'We have agreed to the rules, ' Toshiro said. 'We don't 
interfere until the Grendel Biters are twelve-'
'Wouldn't work, ' Justin said. 'Either we tell Sharon 
now or in a year she'll tease the whole damn' story out of 
Cassandra, and then she'll tell the rest of the Grendel 
Biters. No preparation, just bang!, they know. This isn't 
the last time this is going to come up, either. Sharon won't 
be the only one to ask the right questions. ' He grinned. 
'And what's Zack going to do to me?'
'The Earth Born aren't always wrong, ' Toshiro said. 
His forefinger traced the scar on Jessica's neck. It was 
years old, almost faded, and most of it was hidden under 
her hair; but it trailed down her neck to her left shoulder. 
She snatched his hand and kept it.


9
 


'I'd be more interested in what dad thinks, ' Jessica said. 
'How does Coleen feel about this?'
'She thinks she can't go on fooling her little sister much 
longer, ' Justin said. 'And I agree. You know their mother. '
Toshiro nodded gravely. 'Oh, well. Here, I brought 
some real food. '
They moved closer to the fire to roast chunks of turkey 
breast over the dying coals and they sat talking and laughing 
of small or important things: the season's fish yield; 
skiing on the southern peaks; a review of the previous 
week's hysterical debate between Aaron Tragon and 
Hendrick Sills (postulated: Adam Smith's The Wealth of 
Nations was actually a misinterpreted satirical essay); 
modifications in the huge dirigible, Robor; the odds on 
next month's surf-off. The conversation went on for 
hours, until the laughter finally died down and yawning 
took its place.
They were the Star Born. Their electronic servants 
could bring them all of mankind's knowledge: history, 
science, drama, the great literature of a dozen cultures 
and a hundred soap operas; but they lived in a primitive 
paradise, utterly safe, inoculated against every disease. 
There was more than enough to eat, meaningful work to 
do and few dangers. They were a strong, clean-limbed 
clan. Their parents had been chosen after tests that made 
the old astronaut selection procedures look like child's 
play. Physically perfect and bright-eyed, they radiated the 
kind of relaxed familiarity that only those raised in an 
insular community can ever really know.
There were a few minutes of intense quiet, during 
which eyes met across the ember light, and nods preceded 
gentle touches of offer and acceptance. Two at a time they 
linked arms and drifted off into the shadows.
And then at last there were only four left: Jessica, 
Justin, Toshiro, and a young redhead named Gloria.


'Success?' Jessica yawned, a question which was not a 
question.
'Success, ' Justin agreed. Another round of chuckles.
'Now it's time for the chicken run, ' Jessica said.
Toshiro yawned as well. 'Ruth still wants to try it. '
Justin and Jessica locked gazes, and both laughed 
simultaneously. 'Ruth?' Justin said incredulously. Then 
both said at the same time, in the same little-girl sing-
song: 'But what will daddy say?'
They broke up again, the laughter finally subsiding to 
hiccups. "Pon my word, ' Justin said finally, Zack ruined 
that child. '
'She's asked to become a Grendel Scout, ' Gloria said, 
'and wants to know why we won't let her in. '
The others shook their heads in unison. 'No mainland 
for Camelot's eldest virgin, ' Jessica agreed. 'Not until she 
breaks the leash. '
Justin stirred lazily. 'You have to admit she's a hell of a 
chamel trainer, though. '
She nodded. 'Chamels are fun. Justin, the Earth Born 
used to explore! I remember when they brought the first 
chamels back from the mainland. '
'And lost Josef Smeds to a grendel catching them, ' 
Toshiro said carefully.
'Yes, but-' Her eyes were locked on the northern hori-
zon. 'I won't say it was worth that, but you can't explore 
without risks. And every trip teaches us more. Teaches me 
more about myself. '
'I just wish-'
'I know, ' she said quietly. Jessica intertwined fingers 
with Toshiro, and gave his hand a squeeze. She affected a 
huge yawn. 'I think... that it's time to turn in. '
They rose and retreated from the firelight. From out in 
the darkness there came a gasp, followed by a prolonged 
and girlish giggle.


11
10
 


Justin watched her go, and then, belatedly, became 
aware of the weight of a feminine head on his shoulder. 
'Behind us, ' Gloria said. 'Geographic, just rising. '
He turned; Gloria turned with him. Geographic was a 
silver line with a dot at one end. No details showed, but it 
looked huge, just above the line of the ocean.
Twenty-four years ago... God. Ten times the mass, 
back when it went into orbit. Interstellar brakes! I wish we 
had photos. Can you imagine how bright that drive flame 
must have been?'
'No humans to see it from down here. Maybe it blinded a 
few grendels. ' Gloria was almost behind him, her hands 
toying with his hair. 'Is that really your wish?'
To see it myself! 'I wish... that tonight was Fantasy 
Night, ' he lied.
'It's any night you want, ' she whispered. She reached up, 
turned his face with her fingertips and kissed him blister-
ingly. His hands found the warm, soft places on her body, 
and they sank down together by the firelight. There was no 
fumbling: latches and straps unbuckled as if by magic.
If anyone saw them there, no one commented. There 
were no gawkers as their bodies, gilded by the light of 
embers and twin moons, entwined for almost an hour 
before release finally calmed them both.
They cuddled for a time, whispering, then - suddenly 
freezing - scrambled for a thermal sleeping bag.
Then there was silence, save for the distant sound of 
water and the call of some far-off night creature. No one 
heard. The fire consumed its last morsels of fuel and began to 
fade. No one saw.
The only eyes which remained open were grendel eyes. 
Open, staring, glass eyes.
Dead eyes.
Eyes which saw everything, and felt nothing at all.


Twenty-four years before...
It should have been dead of night. Her body knew that, 
even though the whole world glared silver-blue from the 
light overhead. The grendel had tried looking near it, and 
been blind for most of a day. Blind with the agony in her 
head, eyes that saw only at the edges; blind long enough to 
die, but her mother, the lake monster, hadn't killed her.
Since then she had not looked up, though she would 
wonder about that spear of fire in the sky for the rest of 
her life.
For a long, long time there had been nothing but the 
hideous pain in her head. Now that agony was receding, 
now she could remember that she was hungry. Feeble with 
hunger. How could she feed herself if she were too feeble 
to fight?
And how was it that she had never had such a notion 
until now? She had never fought the lake monster, but 
hunger would not have stopped her. Only fear.
It had been at the southern end of a vast lake, where the 
water emptied out into a sluggish muddy river, that the 
grendel had lived as a swimmer. There she had first drawn 
breath, and killed a sibling for food. She began to remem-
ber, now, how hungry she had always been. She and her 
sibs had fought for room to swim and room to run, for 
space to hold their own swimmers, and eaten what they 
killed until only three or four remained. She remembered 
the sister who had challenged the monster of the lake and 
died almost before the grendel could turn to see.
The lake monster lurked along the west side of the 
lake, where pebbly mudflats gave way to horsemane 
trees. Further south the forest was different, a tangled 
mass of vines and hives and trees that grew like puzzles 
and snares. The lake monster lurked sometimes in the 
horsemanes, but never in the tangle-forest. And south of


12
13
 


the tangle-forest was where the grendel and her sisters 
lived, and a myriad of their spawn.
Her sisters died, and there was only the grendel and her 
own spawn. And still it was not enough. She'd grown too 
large. Eating her own spawn felt wrong, repulsive, and 
that wasn't the worst of it. She and they didn't have the 
room. If they tried to spread out, the lake monster took 
them. No room to feed, not enough moss and insects for 
the spawn, meant they never grew large enough to feed 
their mother. She had to move.
Here, where she was now, it was into the lake that the 
muddy river flowed. By the silver-blue light of a thing in the 
sky that fit no pattern at all, she looked south. The patterns 
linking in her mind showed her how strange it was that she 
had ever come here alive. She hadn't had the sight, then. 
Wherever she looked, then, was only fear: no patterns at all.
She'd seen how fast the lake monster was in the water.
And on land... but not the southwest shore. 
Something so peculiar had happened there that the images 
remained even now...
It had been only a little time since the Change, for her 
and for the last sister she must drive away. Her sister, 
beaten, had retreated to land. She had crossed that patch 
of pebbly mud and into the tangle-forest beyond. No web of 
plants could stop the juggernaut that was a grendel. Her 
sister might find new turf.
The grendel watched her from the southern shore. Food 
was scarce, and there was the lake monster to think about, 
too.
Her sister was in the tangled trees, and into some kind 
of dust or mist. She screamed once, and burst out of the 
trees in a spray of wood and vines. Even the lake monster 
had never moved that fast. The grendel watched her streak 
down the pebbly mudflats at the head of a dust-cloud 
comet.


The lake monster lifted her terrible head - and let her 
pass.
She was nearly out of sight when she tumbled to a stop. 
She seemed little more than a heap of bones. The grendel 
had never dared go for a closer look.
And beyond that place was the lake monster's favourite 
lurk.
No, the west shore was impossible even to the senseless 
being that the grendel had once been. The route around 
the east shore was twice as far, twice the distance in which 
the lake monster could find her...
She must have had just a trace of pattern making ability, 
even then.
She had waited for a hard rain, then gone wide around 
the east shore. Prey was fast and wary, bin on speed it 
could be caught. When the rain stopped she must enter the 
lake to shed the heat, and then be out of the water before 
the lake monster could come...
And so she had lived until she reached the river inlet.
The river was what she sought. She had arrived starv-
ing; but bottom feeders gave her sustenance for many 
days. Then came a sickness in her guts, a sickness that had 
moved into her head and inflated. For days she had 
known nothing but the pain.
And now she felt cold and weird, and her bones were 
stretching her skin taut, and her mind was making patterns.
Way down there in the silver-blue light: her own patch 
of water and land, with too little food for herself or her 
spawn. Probably the lake monster had already cleaned 
the spawn out. Only one thing had been desirable about 
that place: she could taste the lake monster in the water, 
and gain some sense of where she was.
Closer: the lake to her left, and on her right the pebbly 
mud, and the tangle-forest where her sister had turned to 
fog at a speed-enhanced run.


14
15
 


Closer yet: more pebbly mud and horsemanes behind, 
and one huge old horsemane very near the water. The 
lake monster spent most of her time in the water offshore, 
but when the woods were wet they could shield her, too. 
Grendel spawn could turn to grendels anywhere in the 
lake, and their surprise could be brief and intense when 
the lake monster burst from the trees.
Here: she could see muddy river and know the food 
beneath. The river would bring bottom feeders. She could 
eat now... and the lake monster would taste her anywhere 
in the lake, and know she was here. If she had seen patterns 
then, she would not have come here.
But she saw another pattern now.
The grendel bore her hunger. She watched the woods 
and the water. Of prey she saw no sign, nor any sign of 
the lake monster. The silver spear of light failed to rise, 
but the strangeness of her world did not go away.
And so a day passed, and a night.
At mid-morning of the following day, the grendel began 
to walk toward one great horsemane isolated on the mud.
No sign of the lake monster.
At a moment that was nothing but guess-work, the 
grendel began to run.
This was the first puzzle she had ever solved, and she 
had no faith in it at all. She ran, but she was not on speed. 
When a wave moved where no wave should be, terror 
and vindication surged and then she was on speed. She 
was skating on slick mud, her legs a blur, homing on the 
one isolated tree in a spew of mud and gravel.
The lake monster came out of the water, screamed 
challenge, and was on speed.
The grendel veered right and dug in. She'd pass the 
tree on her left. If the lake monster came straight at her, 
hit her broadside, she would be torn, smashed, dead. She 
could see, feel her own death in the pattern! But a notch


more speed changed that, pulled her ahead, and now the 
Like monster would hit the tree.
The lake monster saw it. Veered left. She'd strike the 
grendel after she had passed the tree.
Hah! The grendel veered left. She missed the tree by a 
toe-nail's width, just behind the lake monster's spiked tail. I 
lie lake monster was turning in a spew of gravel and 
dust, but falling behind for all that.
It slowed her for only a moment. She had been eating 
well while sickness had melted the flesh from her daughter.
There was dust blowing out of the tangle-forest as the 
grendel swept past them, burning inside, her enemy tattoo 
close behind her. But the lake monster swept through I lie 
dust, and the dust followed her like a comet tail.
Enough! The grendel veered out over the water. She 
could run on water if she ran fast enough, but the speed 
was broiling her from inside. She looked back once, and 
saw what she had hoped for. She ducked and smashed 
into the water and sank, cooling.
She lifted her snorkel. Then, cautiously, her eyes.
The lake monster was a comet of dust running straight at 
her across the water.
If the lake monster dived now she'd be free of the fog 
and the heat within, but the grendel would have her. The 
lake monster didn't dive. Probably she never thought of it. 
When she stopped, she was invisible in a restless dark 
cloud.
The cloud drifted away. Red bones sank through water. 
The grendel gnawed at them, and was still hungry. 
Hungry and triumphant. Now she could hunt the shore-
line where the lake monster no longer ruled.


16
17
 


I
PART ONE Ice 
on Their Minds
Youth holds no society with grief. 
Euripides (c 450 BC)


1 - The Return
The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of 
all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is 
true.
James Branch Cabell, The Silver Stallion (1926)
'What in the hell is that?
Jessica Weyland heard the words without recognizing 
the voice. It originated just outside the stone walls of the 
Stronghold's guest bathroom, where she bent, scrubbing 
her cheeks with ice-cold water piped from the Amazon 
creek.
The bath was part of the Stronghold's guest suite, 
attached to a guest bedroom that had been hers before she 
had built her own place at Surf's Up. Toshiro Tanaka, her 
previous evening's entertainment, still sprawled uncon-
scious across the bed. Sleep cycle incompatibility 
prevented them from having anything but an occasional 
fling. Too bad. Like many a musician, he had such good 
hands...
'Frozen bat turds! Will you look at it?'
Jessica ran toward the living room before thinking 
about what she'd heard. Her legs ate the distance between 
bedroom and living room in nine long strides. Her mind 
flew faster than her feet. Kids paying us back for last 
night? Gotcha? No. They'd be emulating horror, not 
astonished curiosity. No, this is something else.
21


Jessica was tall and blue-eyed, as Nordic as a glacier, 
with shoulder-length blonde hair, high cheekbones and a 
large, cool mouth. She moved like the athletic animal she 
was. She was unselfconsciously naked: there had been no 
time to grab a towel.
Her father, Cadmann Weyland - Colonel Cadmann 
Weyland - had built the Stronghold as a fortress against 
monsters even before he understood the grendel threat. 
The others called him paranoid and worse, some of them 
accusing him of faking a threat as part of a power grab, 
even a military takeover of the colony. He left them then, 
and built his home on a high ledge, digging into the side of 
Mucking Great Mountain. Most of it was underground: 
cool in Avalon's winters and warm in her summers. Light 
slanted in through the Stronghold's louvred ceiling. The 
living room was Paradise.
A green-tiled channel grooved the middle of the living 
room. The ice-cold Amazon waters ran through that, right 
through the living room, thirty centimetres deep and over a 
metre wide. It had once been deeper and narrower there, but 
Jessica didn't remember that. It was another of those facts 
she had been told, and which she believed in the same 
way that she believed there was a solar system with a 
yellower star and a planet named Earth.
A gently sloped tile shelf ran along part of the stream. 
The rest was fenced off by a hedge that grew along the 
edge of the running water. The hedge was composed of 
plants from both Camelot Island and the far reaches of 
Avalon, so that the room was as much arboretum and 
botanical garden as living space. Fully half those weirdly 
shaped plants had thorns and spines. They weren't really 
cacti, but they resembled cacti more than any other kind 
of Terran plant. Avalon plant-life needed protection. Any 
defenceless lifeform was instant grendel chow. Some 
plants had other protection: there were the violet-petalled


beauties with their acid resin; the tiny deep blue fruiting 
bulbs with their astonishingly active poison; the carnivorous 
lilies which could turn a frog-sized creature to a husk in 
forty-eight hours... The garden grew more lethal over the 
years as the children of Cadmann Weyland's Stronghold 
grew more able to cope with them. The plants came 
from everywhere: Camelot Island's highlands, offshore 
islands, even the mainland, all brought here to line the 
stream. Despite the garden's lethality, it was beautiful.
From her earliest days, Jessica had thought the 
Stronghold the most wonderful place in the world. At present 
Cadmann, Mary Ann and Sylvia were in the southern thorn 
forests hunting specimens. The Stronghold and 
Cadmann's Bluff itself were Jessica's and Justin's for the 
next day and a half. A safe place, despite the garden. A 
perfect place to begin the initiation of the Grendel Scouts. 
Later, they would be taken to the mainland for their real 
coming-of-age. There were neither serpents nor scorpions in 
this Paradise.
So who was doing all the yelling?
She was opening the front door when she saw it, almost 
behind her. Something emerged from the downstream 
edge of the Amazon's emerald stream bed. It wriggled 
under the lip of the living room's northern, downhill wall 
to come right into the arboretum. Something alive. 
Something thick-bodied and powerful. Its head reminded 
her a little of a horse's, only stubbier. It pushed its way 
further in. The head melded into a broad, powerful neck 
which grew longer and longer...
A voice behind her said: 'Hot damn'! It's an eel!'
Toshiro knelt by the side of the Amazon to watch as 
the beast worked its rubbery length against the current. It 
splashed cold water on Jessica's bare feet as it moved past. It 
ignored them completely. Eventually the entire creature


22
23
 


emerged into the living room, fully five metres long and as 
thick as a horse's upper leg.
The front door slammed open and two panting chil-
dren ran in. One of them was a small dark girl, Sharon 
McAndrews. She brandished a sharpened stick. Her 
mouth and eyes were wide as she watched the eel wiggle 
sinuously toward the living room's upstream opening. The 
other, a red-headed, freckled fourteen-year-old lad named 
Carey Lou Davidson, gawked at Jessica's chest before 
reluctantly returning his attention to the eel.
'Stay back, ' Jessica said quickly. She turned to Toshiro. 
'Hey, keep an eye on that thing, and watch the kids. I'm 
throwing on some clothes. '
'But what is it?' Carey Lou asked.
Toshiro laughed. 'I think that Mrs Eel is just trying to 
get upstream. '
'Spawning grounds?' Jessica asked.
He nodded. 'Remember Chaka's biology lecture last 
month? The ecology is returning to Camelot now that the 
grendels are gone. This will be part of it. Hot damn'!'
He was hopping on one leg, pulling his pants on, risking 
intimate injury in his enthusiasm. Jessica was already 
halfway to the guest bedroom.
She struck the room like a blonde whirlwind, sucking 
up shirt, pants and thong sandals without a moment's 
pause. She was back in the living room before the eel dis-
appeared through the southern wall, moving uphill.
There was a change in the location of the general hooting 
outside. Jessica exited, pulling on her blouse, neglecting 
the buttons but knotting the corners together into a 
makeshift bra. She almost collided with Justin.
'What do you see?' Jessica was already running.
'It's heading right up the hill. Did dad leave any of the 
holocam stuff ?'
Tee on my mind! I didn't check. '


Justin took off up the hill. She swiftly overhauled a 
mob of shrieking Grendel Biters. 'Stay away from it!' she 
shouted.
'It won't hurt us, ' Sharon McAndrews said. 'It can't, 
it's too slow. '
'You never saw anything on speed, ' Jessica said.
'No legs, ' one of the children shouted.
'Yes, all right, but stay away from it anyway. We don't 
want to scare it. ' She'd seen the videos of samlon growing 
legs to become grendels, but that took hours - it couldn't 
happen in a minute. Still... 'Stay away from it. '
With an ear-numbing burr, Skeeter VI buzzed up over 
the edge of the bluff. Jessica turned and shaded her eyes to 
look into the windscreen. Evan Castenada - clean-cut, 
classic Latin features - was at the helm of the silver-blue 
autogyro. Coleen McAndrews, fifteen but looking much 
older, sat in the passenger seat, holocam clipped to her 
right shoulder.
Jessica waved Evan down. The skeeter dipped and 
buzzed, as if intoxicated by flight.
She hopped onto the runner at the skeeter's side, 
twined the seat belt around her wrist, clipped a safety line 
to her belt and gave a thumbs-up.
With gut-wrenching rapidity Skeeter VI rose sixty metres 
above the house and hovered. From this perspective, 
Cadmann Weyland's ranch was a miracle of human effort. 
Rows of soybeans and corn and alfalfa chequered the bluff, 
along with pens for pigs and goats and the small, furry 
Avalon marsupials called 'Joeys'. The Amazon sparkled in a 
silvered ribbon, just catching the morning sun. Alongside it 
raced a stream of children who laughed and urged one 
another to greater effort. Justin was well in the lead.
'Can you see it?' Evan yelled above the turbine whine.
The sunlight glinted off the stream. She thought she 
caught a slender shadow, but...


24
25
 


'Not yet. '
'Try these. ' Coleen handed her a comlink optical set: 
binoculars with cameras linked to the colony's central 
computer system. 'Cassandra, I'm turning the war specs 
over to Jessica. '
'Ready, Jessica, ' the computer responded.
Jessica slipped on the war specs - they looked and felt 
like heavy sunglasses - and was rewarded by an enhanced 
version of Cassandra's camera-eye perspective. She 
adjusted it so the right lens was transparent and the left 
gave her the comlink image.
She squinted her right eye.
Yesss... there be the dragon. Shimmering in the fluo-
rescent reds and blues of the thermal enhancement, the eel 
struggled its way upstream. 'Cassandra, display best size 
data. '
Length: 647cm. Estimated 
weight: 27kg.
Cassandra gave them a glowing wiggling-eel track.
Jessica whispered, 'Enlarge. ' The eel stopped, then wig-
gled forward and back. It expanded to fill her field of 
vision.
'Who sounded the alarm?'
'Little Chaka or his old man, ' Coleen said. 'One of the 
Mubutus picked up the river alert. Nothing this big, not 
ever. '
Not for the twenty years we've been here, and not for... 
Jessica thought about the implications. When the humans 
had arrived the island of Camelot had had an incredibly 
simple ecology: samlon and green slime in the rivers, Joeys 
and pterodons in the high mountains and a few thorny or 
poisonous plants scattered about the plains. Grendels had 
eaten everything else. But how long had it


been that way? 'You know what this means? The grendels 
didn't own this island for thousands of years. They 
couldn't, the eels wouldn't keep coming back-'
'Sure about that?'
'No, but it's something to think about. Don't lose it!'
Til give you another, ' Coleen said. 'What triggered the 
return after all these years?'
'Now that is one interesting question. '
The tumbled granite majesty of Mucking Great 
Mountain rose up to greet them. The peaks were con-
stantly swathed in fog. A few irritated pterodons swooped 
out of their nests to investigate Skeeter VI. Humans didn't 
hunt pterodons. Over the two decades that humanity had 
infested Avalon, the great leathery creatures had lost all 
fear and now considered the skeeters worthy only of deri-
sion. The autogyros were fast but clumsy, barely capable 
of beating a pterodon on the straightway and no compe-
tition at aerobatics.
The eel continued to labour upstream. It humped 
painfully through the shallows, fighting as urgently as any 
Earth salmon ever did.
Salmon.
Samlon.
Jessica repressed a shudder.
This thing was almost certainly a carnivore - but would 
confine its hunting to water. It might be as dangerous as a 
moray eel, fully capable of taking a baseball-sized lump 
out of an unwary buttock, but it shouldn't be able to do 
anything else. It couldn't come out of the water.
Still... 'If it had speed it would have used it by now, ' 
Jessica announced. 'Cassandra, database search: match 
that image. '
'No exact match. One similar lifeform, 290 centimetres 
in length, observed in a stream of Black Ship Island. ' A 
map flashed momentarily in her vision: Black Ship Island


26
27
 


was a smaller, uninhabited island off the mainland coast.
'Evidence of speed? she asked.
'None, ' Cassandra replied. 'No visible speed sacs, no 
structures evolved for cooling. Probability low to nil. '
'Thank you. '
'You're welcome. '
Every skeeter carried a fully-armed shock rifle, one of 
the tools developed in case the grendels ever came back. 
They never had, but everyone was trained to use the 
weapons anyway. These 'grendel guns' could deliver 
numerous designer loads: chiefly a capacitor dart to stun 
and an engineered biotoxin which triggered overload of 
the target's speed sacs. Speed was the superoxygenated 
haemoglobin which allowed the grendels to accelerate to 
over one hundred and ten kilometres an hour in about 
three seconds. The toxin drove a grendel completely 
berserk, drunk on her own 'adrenaline'. A speed-drunken 
grendel produced enough heat to cook itself in about seventy 
seconds.
Evan tapped his ear. 'Roger. '
'What's the word?' Coleen shouted.
'Kill it. Standing Municipal Order 142. On file. Kill it 
first, decide whether it's harmful later. '
'It's got no legs, ' Jessica said. 'It can barely function on 
the land. Cassandra says it doesn't use speed. Let's wait. '
'Got my orders, ' Evan said ruefully.
'Is Skeeter VI still set up for dolphin transport?'
'Sure - we flew Quanda and Hipshot up yesterday. '
'Great. Somebody was playing with a ouija board. '
The eel struggled up and up, blindly urgent, making 
surprisingly good time. Justin had kept up with it, 
although many of the children had dropped back by now. 
She patched herself through to Justin's comlink.
'Jessie here. What does it look like to you?'
'Ugly thing. Ignoring us, though. What's the word?'


'Kill it. '
"What do you think?
'Let's take it alive. '
7 like the way you think. Zack's got ice on his mind. '
There was a crackle of static and another voice came 
on-line. It was Zack Moskowitz, Governor of Avalon. 7 
find that tasteless, young man. You listen to me, both of 
you - your father has standing orders-'
'Our father isn't here, Zack. '
'I want you to kill that thing. We don't know-'
'That's right, we don't. I'll kill it when I'm ready. '
'Dammit, Jessica!"
She thumped her headset. 'Brzztfplt. Gee, Zack, you're 
breaking up! Over. ' She switched her comlink off as Evan 
was bringing the skeeter around for a landing next to a 
large pond.
The autogyro thumped down on rocks. Jessica 
snatched up the rifle and hopped off.
The eel humped itself over a rock break, looked at her 
without seeing her, and wiggled into the centre of the 
pond.
Coleen moved a little closer, her holocamera recording 
the entire event. Every time the eel moved, a staccato series of 
computer-enhanced after-images flashed before Jessica's 
left eye. Cassandra's exobiology study programme was 
having a field day.
'Get in closer, Coleen, ' she said.
The eel swished back and forth through the pond's 
crystal-clear water. Jessica clambered up a rock to get a 
better view.
Beside her, Coleen whispered, 'Cassandra: M-D Coleen 
EELTALK', opening a personal file, and began to speak.
'Eel-like. Probably carnivore. Five metres long. 
Estimated top speed of thirty kph. This is no infant. Cross-
hatching indicates healed scars. Minimum of a year old,


29
28
 


probably more like ten years, possibly a lot more than 
that. This is a mature animal seeking a spawning ground. '
Justin was the second up over the rocks. The children 
and others of the 'teens were behind him. It had been an 
uphill jog, and despite his fine physical condition he was 
blowing hard.
Coleen nodded acknowledgement, and kept talking. 
'We can bet that it didn't spawn here. We haven't seen 
anything like this. Probably genetic memory. Likes the 
taste of the water. '
That water's glacial. It won't have much taste, ' Justin 
said.
This is great, ' Evan said. The first. The first returning 
land animal - oceanic?'
'Aside from a couple of the bird-thingies, ' Coleen said, 
'you're right. '
The eel began to move in diminishing circles, as if 
claiming the pond for its own. Then it was still. The chil-
dren gathered around the edge. An expectant hush settled 
over them.
Jessica anticipated Justin's first request, and handed 
her comlink set to him before the words left his mouth. 
The lightweight gear slipped easily into place. He sighed 
with pleasure.
This was something new, something that would occupy 
conversation for weeks - no mean contribution to their 
lives. For this alone, she owed the eel a chance to live.
The First would have to allow more frequent visits to 
the mainland. Have to!
After all - the local ecology was returning. Evidence of it 
was everywhere. There was three times the flora to be 
categorized now. The wind carried puffballs and tiny 
fairy-brollies and fertilized seeds, and the Earth-native 
crops of Avalon were experiencing their first real compe-
tition. Weeds were a universal fact of life.


Two dozen children ringed the pool. The eel was still, 
then rippled, then was still again. Justin adjusted his face 
War, zooming in on the minor miracle.
Something was happening, but Jessica had to get down 
on her knees and elbows to see it. A jellied mass began to 
emerge from a gland two-thirds of the way back along the 
eel's dorsal surface. It squirted out like whipped cream, 
milky, with reddish dots within.
Egg sac. Thousands upon thousands of little eels. 
Jessica's earphone was sizzling. It was Zack. 'Jessica? Why 
haven't you killed it yet?'
'Sacrilege, ' she said distantly. The miracle of child-
birth. It's an ovary thing - you wouldn't understand. '
'You don't know what the hell that creature is. '
'Oh, and you do, right, Zack?'
The squirting seemed to have stopped. Once again, the 
pool was still.
Jessica selected a load for the shock rifle. Thirty kilos, 
close enough, ' she said softly, and turned the dial on the 
capacitor dart. A green light blinked on the rifle dart; the 
batteries in the stock held sufficient charge. Reluctantly 
she thumbed the arming switch.
Justin's long face was peaceful. 'Now?'
'Not yet. Let's see if it's supposed to die here. '
He nodded. The eel was almost motionless, merely 
shuddering. The rippling became regular, as if it were 
straining at some mighty task. Its black wet muscularity 
swelled and released.
Then, about one-quarter up from the tail, a puff of 
black appeared.
'Semen?' Jessica whispered. 'Bi-fertile hermaphroditic?'
'Why extrasomatic?' Evan asked.
Think about it, ' Justin said quietly. 'In the old days, 
this pool might have just boiled with eels. They release 
their egg sacs. Then they release their semen. The semen


31
30
 


spreads through the pond, perhaps preferentially fertilizing 
other egg clusters. Instant exogenesis. '
Coleen whistled. 'Wrong. I think it's blood. '
'Blood ?'
The eel had begun to shed its tail. A chunk of meat was 
separated from the main mass of the body, and blood was 
more plentiful now.
'All that blood in the water, ' Justin said. 'Best evidence 
I've seen that grendels weren't native to this island. '
Coleen ran to the skeeter, unloaded a roll of absorbent 
rubber sheeting and lugged it back to the pond. She took 
off her shoes and socks and rolled up her pants. 'I'd bet 
minerals in the blood are a clue to mummy's home terri-
tory, her mating ground. '
'Mating ground?' Justin asked.
'I say she's not hermaphroditic. Mated before she came 
up here. Stored up the semen, dumped it here. '
'Bet. '
The tail had worked its way almost completely loose 
now, clouding the water with blood. Only a few scraps of 
tissue held the tail on. They watched as those fibres tore 
away.
The eel swam in a lazy circle, shedding its former torpor.
'Doesn't look moribund to me, ' Justin said.
It seemed to notice them for the first time. It dove, wig-
gling fiercely beneath the surface of the water, and left the 
pond.
'Time, ' Jessica whispered, and put a capacitor dart just 
behind its head. It spasmed once, and again, and then 
sank.
'Move it!' Justin was already clambering into the water. 
'We don't want this thing to drown!'
Coleen McAndrews was right behind him. 'It humped 
its way over rocks - we saw it out of the water for more 
than thirty seconds. I think we can make it. '


The tarp was around the eel in a moment. The children 
started to plunge in with them. Jessica waved them back. 
'Watch out for the egg sac!' she yelled. 'Stay ashore. '
They rolled the creature out of the pond. Its skin was 
surprisingly spongy, and oozed water. It was the work of 
A moment to attach the eel and its roll of protective sheeting 
to one of the dolphin slings beneath Skeeter VI.
Jessica climbed aboard.
'We'll get another skeeter up here, ' she yelled above the 
growing whine of the turbines. 'Get us an egg sample and 
meet me at Aquatics. '
'There in ten minutes, ' Justin promised. She whooped 
and raised her hand, and he slapped it hard. Their eyes 
shone.
'Got one, dammit, ' Jessica said.
Ten seconds later Skeeter VI was up in the air, and 
plunging toward Camelot.


32
33
 


2 - Mother Eel
How cheerfully he seems to grin 
How neatly spreads his claws And 
welcomes little fishes in With 
gently smiling jaws!
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in 
Wonderland (1865)
The skeeter soared. Evan's sure hands took it up so 
rapidly it seemed the world deflated beneath them. The 
acceleration was a little much for Jessica - but then that 
was Evan. Damned if she'd let him know he'd upset her. 
She grabbed the horizontal hand bar set above the instru-
ment panel and hoped he wouldn't notice her white 
knuckles.
She patched through to Biomed, down at Avalon town. 
'Chaka. Got something for you. Get Hipshot and Quanda 
out of pen number three. Soonest. '
7s that the eel that everyone's talking about?'
'Betcha. '
I expected something like this. We're draining the salt 
water out of the tank, and flooding it with the 
Miskatonic. '
'I want to have your child. Can we have full diagnostics 
in five minutes?'
'We aim to please'
The skeeter dove, nearing free-fall as it plunged toward 
the camp. The arc of Camelot, twice its original size,


spread out below them. All of its corrals and lodgings, 
shops and quilted fields screamed up at them at gut-
wrenching speed.
And there, near the Biomed dome, were the three salt-
water tanks. Luckily there were no sick animals at the 
moment, but Dr Mubutu had flown Quandn and Hipshot 
in from the Surf's Up lagoon, giving them some privacy in 
hopes that they might breed. Someone tall and black - it 
had to be Little Chaka - was below them at the pens, but 
Jessica didn't really have time to think. Evan was whooping 
as he dove in, thoroughly enjoying her no-doubt pasty-
faced reaction to his aerobatics.
Just wait, Evan, she swore silently. I'll get you for this.
The salt-water tanks were raised one and a half metres 
above the ground and sunk two metres beneath it. The 
pen was drained and the Miskatonic was pumping in at 
the rate of three hundred litres a minute. Skeeter VI came 
to a hovering halt, its tail rotors foaming the water.
Little Chaka waited on the white-tiled lip of the tanks. 
Jessica untied the cargo line. The roll of foam sheeting 
loosened and four metres of eel splashed into the shallow 
water. She jumped down to stand beside Chaka, and 
waved the skeeter away.
The eel lay at the bottom of the tank, barely covered 
as the water level slowly climbed. 'I think it's just 
stunned, ' Little Chaka yelled. He knelt next to the pen to 
examine the dark eel. 'Looks to be moving water through 
the gills. Let's add a little oxygen. ' He whispered to his 
comlink card. There were more bubbles from the air 
inputs at the bottom of the tank. 'That ought to take care 
of her. '
Little Chaka Mubutu was just under two metres tall, 
dark-skinned, but with the narrow features more often 
found in whites. He looked quite unlike his adopted


35
34
 


father, Dr Mubutu - Big Chaka. Together they were the 
colony's premier biologists. Dr Mubutu was still at home, 
at the marine research facility west of Surf's Up.
'Nothing else to do, ' he said. 'We don't know enough 
to help. '
'I hope she lives, ' Jessica said.
'So do I. She looks tough. Leave it to Mother Nature. 
I'm going in. Coming?'
'Let me get my kit. ' Skeeter VI buzzed down to a 
hexagonal concrete landing pad next to Biomed. Jessica 
grabbed her belt pouch as it shut down. The still-turning 
rotors fluttered her hair in all directions, but she didn't 
notice. She hurried into the building.
Little Chaka had the holos up and running by the time 
she entered Aquatics. The station's west wall disappeared 
as the cameras and tank sensors displayed data from the 
churning, foaming tank. Chaka sat in an oversized swivel 
chair, the keyboard on his lap. He waved toward a more 
normal-sized chair.
'What do we have here?' Chaka asked.
'You should know better than me. '
'File name?'
'Mother Eel. '
'Cassandra?' Chaka said softly. 'Let's see what we 
know about Mother Eel. '
'Integrating files. Done. Records now available, ' the 
computer's cool, familiar voice answered. Chaka's ver-
sion of Cassandra's neutral voice had been given a lyrical 
New Guinea lilt.
The holo divided into two images. One remained with 
the eel and the other replayed the skeeter's view of its 
heroic spawning odyssey.
'What do we have... ?' Chaka whispered. He watched 
the tail drop off, and chuckled.
'What happened there?' Jessica asked.


'The Amazon is glacier water, poor in minerals. Mama 
Eel is making sure her babies have food. '
'Cannibals?'
'No, this is a salmon trick, Jessica. The salmon of Earth 
swam upstream and died. Mama here only leaves her tail, 
but it's the same trick. Tail will rot. Parasites in the tail 
will multiply drastically as tissue decomposes. Insects 
come to dine. Water boils with insects and worms and 
such. Hatchlings will have their dinner, won't they, 
Mother Eel?'
Outside, the clouded sky cleared for a moment, and 
Tau Ceti glared through the Aquatics building's domed 
ceiling, dimming the holos. The ceiling polarized, and the 
holos brightened.
Slowly, the eel began to twitch again.
'Let's get a closer look, ' Little Chaka murmured.
The eel ballooned up before them. Its skin disappeared 
as Cassandra obligingly bounced ultrasound through the 
water, and then adjusted the scans. 'Aha-'
The door burst open and Zack Moskowitz stormed in.
Avalon's Governor was about fifty-five Earth years old, 
thirty-eight Avalon, and a slightly heavier gravity hadn't 
been kind to him. His shoulders stooped and his face was 
deeply lined. The moustache and eyebrows which gave 
him an unfortunate resemblance to Groucho Marx were 
thinner now, speckled with white. Care and woe, stress 
and responsibility had bent him as if physical burdens.
'Jessica!' he roared. 'I gave you a direct order to kill 
that thing. '
'Why?' she asked mildly. 'And by the way: Hi, Zack. '
'Standing Municipal Order 142: "Until adjudged other-
wise, all new species are to be considered hostile. " This is 
the first time something this large has returned to the 
island. It has pronounced amphibious tendencies. '
'So does my niece, but that doesn't make her a grendel. '


36
37
 


'Look at this. ' Chaka slid into a swivel chair, lacing his 
thick dark fingers behind his head. The eel's head became 
orca-sized, revealing a mouthful of tiny, even, sharp-
looking teeth. 'Mother Eel eats small fish. She might take a 
chomp out of your leg if you tromped on her. Sorry to 
disillusion you, Zack, but you wouldn't be her idea of 
lunch. '
Zack grunted, then turned back to Jessica. 'I don't 
care, ' he said. 'An order is an order. '
'I know, ' Jessica said, her voice still extremely even. 
'Rules are rules, because we can't trust individual judge-
ment. You can't trust your individual judgement. ' And I 
was never frozen. I don't have ice on my mind. 'Zack, my 
father wrote most of the Standing Orders, remember?'
'You're taking advantage, ' Zack said. 'Cadmann will 
be back tomorrow. '
Jessica leaned forward. 'What makes you think that I 
care? The Grendel Scouts are controlled by Second 
Generation. Biomed is controlled by Second Generation. 
This is for Star Born, not Earth Born. '
'At the moment. '
'The eel was spotted by-'
'-sensors created and monitored by adults. First 
Generation. We set up the alert and sent out the skeeter. 
You commandeered it, and directly countermanded my 
order-'
Jessica's blue eyes narrowed hotly. 'Cadmann's Bluff is 
not incorporated into the township of Camelot, never has 
been, never will be, and you damned well know why. The 
eel was captured there. My father is incommunicado. 
Justin and I are in command of the Bluff until he returns. I 
made my decision based upon my authority on the Bluff 
and my control of the Grendel Scouts. Chaka?'
Chaka spun in his swivel chair. 'Mother Eel is secure, 
Zack. We can put a net over the tank, if you want. '


'You know damned well that isn't the issue. The issue is 
that you exceeded your authority. I am responsible for the 
security of this colony-'
Jessica's smile was hard, but her voice remained even 
and untempered. 'And although I had no hand in giving 
you that authority, I have abided by the decision. Until 
now. But I think we can learn more about Avalon from a 
live creature - and we have eggs coming down the moun-
tain-'
'Eggs?' Zack was furious. 'I want them destroyed-'
'You are the civilian authority, and as such have control 
of ordinary emergencies. But this isn't one of them: it's no 
emergency at all. It is the normal functioning of this 
planet, Zack. The ecology is returning. The signs have 
been there for eight years. Plants. Fairy-brollies, and look 
what they grew into! No real birds, but we have new fish, 
new insects - Zack, this is important, this is the way this 
island used to be. This is for a joint council, Earth Born 
and Star Born-'
'Adults and Second Generation, ' Zack said absently.
'All right, but this is for the joint council, First and 
Second Generations, together. Or the biology board. But it's 
not something for rules, or a panicked, autocratic decision. '
'But-'
'Our world, Zack, ' Jessica said. 'Ours, not just yours. '
'It was my impression, Zack, that this was a republic -
not a principality. ' Chaka's tone was mocking, but gentle. 
'And it is our world too. '
Zack closed his eyes for a moment, and finally nodded. 
'Right, right. You're right. All right. I want a cover on the 
tank. As soon as your father links in, I want him 
informed. And we'll have a special meeting when he gets 
back. ' Zack placed a fatherly hand on her arm. She let it 
remain there.
'You don't remember, you can't. ' Zack said it with a


38
39
 



kind of resignation, and she knew two things: first, she 
was about to get a dose of Grendel Angst, and, second, 
this was as close to an apology as Zack could come.
'Things have been peaceful for a long time. We want 
them to stay that way. '
It's for your own good, children.
He patted her, then took another long, hard look at the 
eel. It was beginning to swish to and fro around the tank. 
As if seeking a way out. 'Put a cover on that tank. ' Zack 
shook his head, and left the room.
'Ice on his mind, ' Chaka said. 'You know what Ruth 
said?'
'What?'
'She said Zack sleeps in his own room. Wakes Rachael 
up in the middle of the night, screaming. '
'Hell, I think that half of the First have nightmares. 
Freezing Grendel Wars. ' Jessica shook her head. 'Dead 
and gone, man, dead and gone. Just like the grendels. '
'Gone here, ' Chaka said. 'Plenty of them over there. 
We'll have to deal with them some day. '
'Or our kids will, ' Jessica said. 'We won't have to settle 
the mainland for generations. '
'Yes we will, ' Chaka said. 'I'd better get the cover on 
that tank. '
'Do you want one?'
Chaka shrugged. 'It will be inconvenient. '
'Freeze it, then. Don't bother. '
Chaka looked at her. Before he could say anything they 
were interrupted by the whir of an approaching skeeter. 
'That should be baby bro with the egg samples, ' Jessica 
said.
'Right. Cassandra, ' Chaka said briskly. 'I want a life-
cycle simulation. '
'Where do you think this thing lives?'
'The Deeps north of Surf's Up, maybe. '


Justin slammed the door open. A jar half-filled with 
murky water sloshed in his hands. Within it floated a sample 
of the jellied egg sac. 'Merry Christmas, ' he said 
cheerily. 'Are we set up?'
'All but. ' Chaka took the jar carefully. He drew a few 
drops of cloudy fluid and placed them into an analyser. 
Cassandra worked. Presently a stream of filtered, designer 
water began to splash into a small tank on the work-
bench. When it was filled, Chaka emptied the jar into the 
tank.
Jessica sat down next to Justin, winked at him. 'Caught 
hell from Zack about our slippery friend. '
Chaka was big, and the strongest of the Star Horn, but 
you didn't notice that when he was at work. 'We'll just 
dissect one of the eggs so Cassandra can have a look. 
There. Window, please. ' A flood of biological and math-
ematical symbols reeled past them in: \ small holographic 
window, a peek into Cassandra's mind. She was comparing 
the eel with other Avalonian lifeforms, including the 
dreaded grendel. And she was scanning the eggs down to 
their DNA. And, although it was understood to be no more 
than thirty per cent accurate, Cassandra would devise a 
best-guess lifecycle for the beast, including preferred foods at 
varied points in its development.
Before their eyes the eel transformed: now its holo-
graphic image was covered with skin, now it was a 
network of muscles; now it was a mere skeleton whip-
ping eerily through the water. Now it was a jelly sac 
crowded with internal organs, and in the next second it 
was merely a nervous system, each branching node out-
lined in blue.
Jessica lit a cigarette. It was machine-rolled but unfil-
tered. The tobacco field covered less than four hectares of 
the five thousand hectares of cultivated land surrounding 
Camelot. There had been discussion as to whether the


41
40
 


seeds should be grown at all. Most of the Earth Born 
didn't smoke and hated tobacco. Some were astonished to 
find there were tobacco seeds aboard Geographic. The 
same debate had preceded the hemp planting.
Mankind's vices had accompanied him to the stars. 
Alcohol, nicotine and marijuana existed on Avalon, like-
wise poppy fields and coca plants. Pharmaceutical cocaine 
and morphine were too valuable medicinally and hemp 
too hardy and useful a plant fibre. The mountain ridges 
had been seeded with coffee. Tobacco... well, tobacco was 
tobacco.
Jessica allowed herself a cigarette or two a day. You'd 
have to quadruple that level of consumption to find clinical 
deterioration of lung tissue, and it had been a century since 
anyone had died of cancer anyway. As for the other drugs... 
well, they were a part of man's history.
'Terrible habit, ' Justin said. She nodded, and shook 
him out a butt.
The pumps made small, moist rhythmic sounds, swishing 
murky water about in the egg tank.
Chaka was totally absorbed: the rest of the world 
might as well have disappeared. Jessica said, 'Listen, we'll 
check back with you, all right?'
Ruth Moskowitz waited right outside the door for them, a 
bemused look on her round and pleasant face. She was 
one point seven metres of clean-featured brunette. 
Attractive, but not pretty. Rounded, but not chubby. 
Competent, but not particularly bright as far as anyone 
could tell. Ruth was on the edge of everything, and not 
remarkable for anything but being Zack's daughter. She 
stripped off her work gloves. 'It's beautiful, ' she said.
'What's beautiful?' Justin asked,
'The eel! Tell me about it. '
'Not much to tell, ' Jessica said. 'It swam up the


Amazon this morning, you know, right through the living 
room - Oh. The Amazon is a stream. '
'I've been to your house, ' Ruth said. 'It must have been 
going to the pools above the Stronghold. '
'Yes, that's right. '
'What would it want?' Ruth mused. 'There's nothing 
up there, just glacier. '
'Right again. Got to the headwaters and laid eggs. '
'Ooh. Wish I'd been there, ' Ruth said. 'It's safe, then?'
'Looks harmless enough. Chaka is looking into it. '
'I bet daddy had a tizzy, ' Ruth said. 'Standing 
Municipal Order 142. ' She looked puzzled. 'He must have 
ordered you to kill it, but I can see it's still alive. '
'That's right, ' Jessica said.
'Wish I'd been here, ' Ruth said again. Her comlink 
card chirped. She lifted it, listened a moment, and said, 
'Yes, sir. I'll ask him. ' She smiled uncertainly at Jessica. 
'Got to ask Chaka something-'
'Right. See you. '
Ruth went into the Biomed building. Justin and Jessica 
looked at each other and grinned. 'Wish I'd been here, ' 
Justin said, his voice mocking Ruth's.
'You're unkind, ' Jessica said, but she laughed. It was 
easy to laugh at Ruth.
'You're the one who forgot she'd been to the 
Stronghold. She was there more than once, actually. '
'Years ago, ' Jessica said. 'Look, you decided she 
couldn't be a Grendel Scout-'
'We all did. You know she'd go straight to Zack if she 
learned what we do. ' Justin climbed the ladder to the top 
of pen number 2 and sloshed his hand in the water until 
Hipshot, the small dark male of the dolphin pair, 
approached and rubbed against it. He stroked the dol-
phin carefully. 'What do you think, boy? Think you'll 
give Quanda a tumble?'


43
42
 


Jessica sat next to him. They looked down on Camelot.
The main colony boasted almost three hundred separate 
dwellings now, and another went up every month or so. A 
hundred and thirty-seven of the original two hundred 
colonists remained alive. Most of them lived here in the 
expanded grounds of the original encampment. A few had 
imitated Colonel Cadmann Weyland and built permanent 
dwellings elsewhere on the island. More had hunting 
lodges and second homes near the snows. The fishing 
colony at Surf's Up was the unofficial domain of the Star 
Born - not quite a separate city, not quite permanent, a 
perpetual summer camp linked to the main colony by 
skeeters. If the comlink cards were the nervous system of 
the colony, the skeeter autogyros, built on Earth and 
assembled on Avalon, were its blood vessels. There were 
never enough skeeters. Building more would require fuel 
cells, and fuel cells required palladium and platinum for 
catalysts; those required mines and prospecting, which 
required access to the mainland; but the skeeters didn't 
have enough range for routine operations to the main-
land, and anyway there wasn't any facility there to 
recharge their fuel cells. But if we had a power station and 
more fuel cells that could be charging over there...
Everything we want to do requires two other things, 
Jessica thought. And, as the First Generation grew older, 
more and more of the colony's resources went into con-
sumption, things the First Generation wanted - no, 
needed - leaving less for investment in the future.
/ guess we're rich, she thought, recalling Cassandra's 
images of poverty on Earth. Earth people would call this 
Paradise. And the First won't last forever. She suppressed 
that thought as quickly as it came. It seemed ghoulish. We 
have the skeeters, and we have the comlink cards. We all 
have Cassandra and all the libraries of Old Earth, everything 
people learned before the First left it behind and


brought us here. We're still a single community, if you 
close one eye and squint a little.
A single community, but several places to live now. 
Jessica preferred the original settlement - the nerve centre. 
Surf's Up was lovely and vibrant, with a slight Japanese 
feel to it - the domain of the Second Generation. The 
mountain settlement (thirty-five up there now!) was 
wonderful, with good skiing most of the year. In five 
years there would be hunting - the vegetation was estab-
lished. Some of the trees were twenty years old, a new 
forest like nothing ever seen on the planet before. Deer 
and moose and bear were being released slowly into the 
fields and meadows. Some would survive; some would 
thrive. There was general agreement that when the herds 
were well established they should thaw out some of the 
frozen wolf embryos and release a pack. Exactly when 
was argued vigorously, and so far 'not yet' had won out. 
That wasn't a question that cut deep between the gener-
ations. Not yet. The generation wars were about other 
things.
There were two hundred and eighty Second Generation 
'children', an average of four for every woman who sur-
vived the Grendel Wars.
Truly, Jessica thought cynically, a heroic achievement. 
And of the hundred and fifty female 'children' almost half 
had already had children of their own, an additional sev-
enty progeny. All told, there was a total of four hundred 
and eighty inhabitants either immigrated or born here on 
the fourth planet of the star called Tau Ceti. And for all 
we know, we're the whole universe. I guess that's what 
really eats at Zack. Dad, too. Where is Earth in all this? 
She never calls, she never writes...
The sounds and smells of life here were utterly routine 
now. Cattle grazed, dogs roamed the streets in packs - and 
not an ill fed animal in the lot. Half-naked children played


44
45
 


in alien dust ten light years removed from their closest 
non-Avalonian relations.
Life went on.
The smells and sounds and sights of Camelot weren't 
very different from those captured in holovids of Earth. 
Their sun was a little brighter. From what her father said, 
shadows were sharper and bluer.
But the voracious grendels had so stripped the island 
that Man had found it easy to conquer. Earthworms had 
defeated the local annelids for mastery of the soil. Earth 
crickets chirped at night. Crows had been seen to attack 
lower-level pterodon nests, destroying eggs in a battle for 
territory.
After the Grendel Wars, the Firsts had helped their 
imported organisms along. You could still get arguments 
among both Earth Born and Star Born on whether they'd 
given them too much help in competing with native life, 
but it was hard to blame those who favoured the familiar 
Earth organisms over Avalon's. Samlon, the grendels' larval 
stage, had seemed so harmless, until they changed... Who 
knew what might next grow fangs and claws? So an orgy of 
slaughter had ensued. The creatures of Earth completely 
dominated Camelot, this small island corner of Avalon.
Justin stood and stretched lazily. 'I'm going to see 
Carlos. Staying here?'
'Sure. ' She slipped off her sandals and pants. She wore 
bright blue underpants which contrasted beautifully with 
her tanned legs. With barely a splash, she slipped into the 
tank with Quanda and Hipshot, who immediately glided 
over to investigate. Jessica dove under, then came up and 
spat out a mouthful of water. 'Should only take an hour 
or so to get the preliminary reports. Inquiring minds want to 
know. '
'You've been reading those tabloids again. '


'The 20th century's highest cultural achievement. 
Seems they spent all their time hunting something called 
Bigfoot, or triangulating Elvis sightings. '
'Who?'
'Mid-20th-century pop singer. Died of fame. '
'So should we all. '
'On this backwater? Not likely. '
Jessica vanished back beneath the surface. Quanda 
came up beneath her. Jessica firmly grabbed a fin, and let 
Quanda take her for a ride around the tank.


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47
 


3 - Ice on Their Minds
All happy families resemble each other, each 
unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (1873-7)
Justin chuckled as he headed toward Camelot's main 
street. Jess amused him. Saving the eel was just like her. 
Had she done it merely to antagonize Zack? She usually 
had several reasons for anything she did.
He swivelled aside to let a stream of half-naked boys 
and girls scamper past, playing some spontaneously-
generated variant of tag. They giggled and sang, tripped, 
rolled - ignoring their bruised shins and shoulders - and 
ran out into the fields. The game might progress until 
midnight, when exhaustion, not security, dictated an end 
to play. The grendels were dead. The only things that 
could harm a human child were the dogs, and they 
wouldn't. Children had never been safer, nor held more 
precious.
The streets of Camelot were broad and well paved, 
with private gardens where vegetables and fruits were nur-
tured into bloom. Intimate hothouses and hobby sheds 
were tucked along every byway.
Justin's favourite garden was behind Carolyn 
McAndrews' place. In neat, furrowed rows she cultivated


roses, carnations, tulips, and daisies. Within the plastic-
sheet walls of her hothouse lived Avalon's greatest - and 
only - orchid collection. Human shapes moved inside the 
hothouse: Carolyn herself, followed closely by a small 
brood of children. She had had seven in all, three fast 
after the wars and another four in more leisurely fashion. 
The latest was barely out of nappies. The eldest two had 
children of their own. Coleen, the youngest of the first 
group, still lived at home, but lately she spent most of her 
time studying. Coleen wanted to go back to the stars.
She'll outgrow that, Justin thought. He himself had. It 
wasn't possible, not now, not in Coleen's lifetime. There 
was just too much to do with this world before they could 
rebuild and refuel Geographic - and beyond that was the 
problem no one could solve. Slower than light travel 
meant decades between stars. Stay awake and die of bore-
dom, or go into frozen sleep and risk hibernation 
instability. Ice on my mind. He shuddered.
He saw a new motion through the plastic and hurried 
past. Carolyn McAndrews was coming out <>l the green-
house. He was out of sight before she cmei^ed.
Carolyn had been like an aunt to hint until he was 
twelve or so. He had sensed her withdrawal without 
understanding it. She did well with children; couldn't cope 
with adults. She was damaged, and knew it. Hibernation 
instability' if you were polite, 'ice crystals in the brain' if 
you were accurate, 'ice on your mind' if you were rude, it 
was all the same thing and it affected all the Earth Born, 
some more than others, but all of them. Justin remem-
bered the shock when he'd found it out. He'd been 
searching through the computer for something else, and 
found closed files, and...
His parents, Zack, the adults, all damaged, all unwilling 
to trust their own judgement. How to survive? Think in 
advance; use collective wisdom. Make rules; talk them


48
49
 


through; change them endlessly. In a crisis, follow them 
blindly.
It wasn't hereditary. Carolyn was right when she said, 
'But I make good babies... ' Carolyn and her sister Phyllis 
- her late sister Phyllis, killed in the final minutes of the 
Grendel Wars - had gone into cold sleep as a pair of 
Earth's best and brightest, and wakened with their emo-
tional stability shattered. Others had come out 
judgement-impaired or simply stupid.
But we don't have ice crystals in our brains, Justin 
thought. We don't have to make rules and obey them 
blindly. He'd been shocked when he'd first realized that. 
Now they taught it to the Grendel Scouts when they were 
old enough. The big secret: The adults have ice on their 
minds.
Every turn through the warren was comfortable to him... 
in some odd way, too comfortable. Everything on the island 
was safe, and sometimes it chafed.
In a world of fewer than five hundred people, every 
detail, every sight, every face becomes tediously familiar, 
comes entirely too readily to mind. He'd seen the next 
house uncounted thousands of times. It slid in and out of 
his mind so effortlessly that it felt like an extension of his 
own flesh. The house-frame was the same prefabricated 
rod structure employed by most of the Firsts. Over the 
years, its exterior had been modified with simulated stone 
sculpted to imitate rock blasted and hauled from a distant 
quarry. Some of it was rock blasted and hauled from a distant 
quarry...
The porch was broad. There was a swinging bench 
with a striped awning to protect it from the sun. Justin 
vaulted the fence one-handed, calling, 'Tio Carlos!' There 
was no answer by the time he reached the top of the stairs. 
He poked his head in and looked around.


He smelled coffee.
This was every bit as much his home as Cadmann's 
Bluff. He used to spend two or three nights a week here. 
He was seventeen, eleven Avalon, by the time he moved to 
Surf's Up. These well-worn stones and boards still smelled 
like home. At Cadmann's Bluff the smell of coffee was 
rare, but this house always smelled of it.
The taste had shocked Justin the eight year old. Others of 
the Star Born had acquired the taste, but Justin never 
had. Coffee was bitter. Still, he loved the smell.
The house was crammed with bric-a-brac curved from 
stone and thornwood and seashells. Weird sculptures of 
grendel bone were shelved under a broad window above a 
row of complex topological puzzles moulded of composition 
plastic. There were hypercubes you could disassemble to 
convert into Klein bottles, and Gordian knots only 
Cassandra could untie. Every centimetre of the walls was 
covered with hand-crafted delights. Most of the incredible 
creative output was the product of one mind, the mind of 
Carlos Martinez.
On the way out to the workshop he passed Carlos' 
bedroom. The bed was wide and spacious and rarely 
lonely. Justin's 'Uncle' Carlos had married only once: he'd 
gone 'down the rapids' with Bobbie Kanagawa. The mar-
riage was six hours of bliss, bloodily annulled by a grendel 
attack.
Holotape of that awful event was required viewing. 
The attack patterns had been analysed endlessly. They'd 
all heard the lecture, too often.
Carlos had married only once and became a widower 
the same day, but he had half a dozen acknowledged chil-
dren. Some lived with him, some with their mothers. He 
was rumoured to have more. You could never be sure 
who had been in that bed. His gametes get a huge return 
on investment for making him...


50
51
 


The burr of a high-intensity drill grew louder, more 
jarring, as Justin approached the high-domed workshop 
behind the house.
The path between house and workshop was crowded 
with sculpture. Naked goddesses cavorted with satyrs ren-
dered in volcanic stone. Impressionistic cloud cities were 
carved in some kind of webbed driftwood. The eruption of 
Vesuvius was whittled from an enormous bone flown 
back from the mainland, years before.
Carlos had been an accomplished wood sculptor before 
he left Earth for Avalon. Over the years he'd gained skills in 
metalwork, glass blowing and odd, 'found' art. He was, 
beyond question, Camelot's premier graphic artist. There 
was probably no single home on Avalon that didn't have a 
plaque, lamp, sculpture or door plate signed with his 
rakish scrawl.
Katya Martinez opened the workshop door before he 
could get to it. Her faceplate and baggy coveralls dis-
guised flaming red hair and, he knew, a flawless body. She 
was a month younger than Justin's nineteen adjusted 
Earth years - or about twelve Avalonian cycles - she was 
athletic, which made her attractive in ways that Trish, 
who lifted weights, never would be.
Katya's mother had died early enough that Justin had 
no memory of her, but he'd heard her talk about it. Three 
of the First had died of strokes in the space of four days, 
and one had been Carlotta Nolan's current love. Ice on 
their minds: damaged arteries in their brains sustained 
themselves for a few years, then tore open. Carlotta had 
fallen dead during the triple funeral, and that made four.
Katya had grown up in this house, with no female role 
model - or too many of them, depending on who you 
asked - but she had never been in any doubt as to what 
sex she was. For years Justin had thought of her as


another sister, like Jessica. Then one day that had changed 
very quickly...
A flame-jet flared to silhouette two welders in coveralls 
in the workshop behind her. 'Katya. How's the anniver-
sary piece coming along?'
She flipped up her faceplate, and gave him a radiant, 
brown-eyed, broad-mouthed smile. It had been months 
since Katya and Justin had played games. 'Fantastic. Dad's 
welding Madagascar into place just now. '
'Let me get into safety gear. I'm down for a couple 
hours - thought I'd say "hi". '
Katya nodded enthusiastically and slipped past him. 
Justin pulled on heavy woven cotton overalls and belted 
them in the front. By the time he had finished, Katya was 
back to hand him a pod of beer. They watched each other 
while they drank. 'I thought that you were taking the 
Grendel Scouts out for an overnight. '
'Were, yes. Didn't you hear the alarm?'
'Alarm?' She brushed a crimson strand of hair out of 
her face, and sipped deeply. 'Nope. What's up?'
'Big eel. Came right up the Miskatonic and the 
Amazon, right through the Stronghold. We captured it. It 
looks pretty harmless, but it's the first grendel-sized car-
nivore we've seen on the island, and it's bound to get 
some attention... '
'Over at Aquatics?'
'Yeah. ' He tossed the empty pod into the trash. Two 
points.
'Keep me posted. '
She held the door open for him. He was very aware 
that her fingers brushed his thigh as he passed her.
Four shadowy figures crouched around a two-and-a-
half-metre curved metal bas relief of the African 
continent. The huge silhouette would soon be attached 
to the Earth globe under construction just north of


52
53
 


Camelot's main gates. A series of overhead winches kept 
Madagascar in place while one man waved semaphore to 
the others.
Plasma torches spat as the piece fitted into place. Metal 
ran in glowing rivulets and the air sang with the smell of 
scorched iron. Justin finished pulling his gloves on and 
hurried to help.
'Hola, Carlos!'
'Hola, Justin. Que tal? Como Estas?' Carlos glanced 
away from the model for just a moment. Almost instantly, 
there was a high, annoying whir. 'Un momentito-'
The winch was malfunctioning, and the metre-long 
chunk of Madagascar - which weighed over a hundred 
kilos - sagged.
Carlos and Justin put their silver heat-blocking gloves 
against the lower edge, where the metal still smoked, and 
lifted. The heat pulsed hungrily at their fingers, but didn't 
burn.
'At the top! At the top!'
Assistants screwed two large C-clamps into place, and 
Madagascar was realigned.
Torches sizzled. Carlos turned his face away from the 
intense light.
He stripped off his gloves. The major work finished, his 
assistants buzzed about, welding here and there, cooling 
with jets of water, then beginning to buff.
He held a broad, muscular hand out to Justin. 'Wasn't 
expecting you until day after tomorrow. Australia is next. '
Til be back. '
Carlos stepped away from the globe, leaving it to the 
younger artists. The African continent brushed his ceiling. 
On the wall opposite were blueprints for Australia.
'Have you got the basic mould finished?'
'No, ' he sighed. 'That's what I want you for. Two days' 
work, maybe. Then we can cast it. Then' - he shrugged -


'almost finished. It's been a year. In another month, 
maybe, it's done. '
Justin slapped his mentor's shoulder. Carlos Martinez 
was Latino, with predominantly African genetics. Even 
with his hair streaked grey, he was still disgustingly hand-
some. He was Cadmann Weyland's best friend. About 
fifty-five Earth years, thirty-five Avalon, and in decent 
condition, but Justin knew that when Carlos cast an eye at 
the Seconds, especially the younger women, he felt his 
years.
There was a certain sadness in Carlos' face. Perhaps 
being so close to the completion of a dream? Sometimes 
that did it...
'Qual es su problema, Tio?'
Carlos chuckled. 'For years I wanted to build this. You 
know, the north road is going to be a crossroads one day. 
Gateway to a metropolis. We have Surf's Up, and the 
mountain colony... Explosive growth soon now, as more of 
the Seconds have their children. And in fifteen years, 
whew!'
'Terrific, huh? And how many of those bambinos will 
be yours?'
Carlos' smile was calculatedly mysterious. 'Six that 
I'm sure of. Not everyone wants to gene-scan, so who 
knows?'
'Cassandra, ' Justin said.
'But she will not tell. '
Justin chuckled. 'A little of that New Guinea flavour 
here. '
Carlos waved a hand at the young men and women 
labouring in his shop. 'These are my children, though. 
Not just Katya, but like you. Learning sculpture. Learning 
history. The ones who care. '
'The others will come around. '
'Hope so. Now what can Uncle Carlos do for you?'


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54
 


Justin explained about the eel. 'Zack will want to kill it 
as fast as possible. Destroy the eggs. '
'Knee-jerk reflex. I'll deal with him. Your father will 
want it studied. ' Carlos thought for a moment. 'Might 
want those eggs destroyed, though. No telling what they'll 
hatch into. '
'Eels. '
'Samlon become grendels. We don't have any examples of 
harmful larval stage and harmless adult, but-'
'I see the point, but I don't agree. And that's the point. 
We think there's going to be a row over this at the council 
meeting, and I wanted to take a little straw vote, find out 
where we'd stand. '
'What's the problem?'
The problem is that it's our eel. It's our island, really -
we're going to inherit it. And we can't just kill every-
thing that comes up the river or flies in from the 
mainland. Eventually, we have to know how we fit in 
with this planet or we'll be stuck here on this island for-
ever. '
'You could stay here for ten generations, easy, ' Carlos 
observed. 'Plenty of land. '
'We don't want to. '
'Some of you don't want to. '
'Some means damned near all, ' Justin said. 'Starting 
with me. '
Carlos studied him. 'I don't blame you, ' he said at last. 
'Listen... I think that your father will side with you - he 
believes that strength is safety. And knowledge is 
strength. '
'Are you suggesting that Zack would like to hide his 
head in the sand?'
'Can you entirely blame him?'
An arc of sparks jetted out, turning the floor into a 
summer night's sky. The stars died.


'We almost lost, amigo, ' Carlos said quietly, watching 
Madagascar. 'We make a lot of noise about how heroic it 
all was. But listen between the lines. ' His eyes were deadly 
calm. 'We almost lost. '
'I know that it was tough-'
'No, ' Carlos said. 'I didn't say that it was "tough". I 
didn't say "it was a struggle". I said that we almost lost. 
All of us. Wiped out. If it hadn't been tor a fluke of grendel 
behaviour - that you can drive them crazy with the 
smell of their own speed, they would have slaughtered 
every living thing on this island. '
Carlos sat at the edge of one of the benches and picked 
up a thermos, uncapping it to take a sip. He scanned the 
pieces of Earth strewn about his studio. There in one corner 
was India, mother to Man's civilizations. Suspended from 
the ceiling was Africa, possibly mother to Man himself. 
Already in place north of the colony was Europe, which 
had birthed the scientific method, and the Americas, 
creators of the technologies which had finally taken Man 
to the stars.
In that moment Carlos seemed old, deeply fatigued; 
but a light flickered behind his eyes that was almost ecstatic.
'To our home, ' Carlos said, and took a long sip. The 
hair at his temples was almost white, and the skin on his 
forearms was loose over the wiry muscle. Til never see 
Earth again, muchacho. Earth is an abstraction to you. A 
place the old folks talk about. Pictures we show you, tapes 
we play. Dead voices of dead people. But it was our 
home. '
'We haven't heard from Earth in twenty years!' Justin 
said, instantly ashamed of the mockery that had crept into 
his voice.
'Not a thing, ' Carlos agreed soberly. 'And that means 
something different to every one of us. But back during


56
57
 


the Grendel Wars, all that mattered was that we couldn't 
go home and we couldn't win. We were all going to die, 
and there would be no one to bury our bones. We wanted to 
die here, to be a part of the soil' - he laughed coarsely - 
'but not as grendel shit. Anyway, at the meeting tonight, 
please understand why we are the way we are. If we are 
too protective of you, it's because you are all we have. '
Justin nodded. 'All right, amigo - but just remember, 
you can't keep making our decisions for us. And the more 
afraid you are, the more you had better let us grow up. '
'I do remember being your age, Justin. So cocky. 
So... invulnerable. That was before Bobbie died and 
there was nothing I could do to save her. ' He tilted his 
head to stare at the floor. 'And you know? There was a 
moment there where I tasted my own death so clearly, 
when it was so... real, that I would have given up any-
thing. '1 He paused. 'Even Bobbie, for a few more moments of 
life. '
Carlos took another drink. Justin caught the odour of 
fermentation from the Thermos. 'You never see yourself 
the same way again, amigo, ' Carlos said. 'You never quite 
get it back. '
He grinned crookedly, mocking the pain in his own 
voice. 'You're all we have left, Justin, ' he murmured. 'And 
just maybe all that there is. '
As if aware that he had almost crossed some invisible 
line, he stood. 'Back to work, ' he said brusquely.
Justin hiked a thumb at the globe. 'Looking good, ' he 
tossed over his shoulder on his way to the door.
He let the door slam behind him.
The first comm shack had been a frail thing, tin and wood, 
but that was before the Grendel Wars. Now the colony's 
communications and computers were housed in a fortress


with stone and concrete walls, massive doors and small 
windows. Above each door was a small room filled with 
boulders and rubble poised to fall on any potential invader.
The Merry Pranksters had once filled one of those 
chambers with wet cotton. They'd watched through 
videocameras as Joe and Edgar Sikes walked into the 
trap. The momentary shock and horror, then the laughter, 
man and boy waist-deep in wet cotton, throwing gobs of 
it at each other... but Zack and the other Earth Born 
hadn't been amused. The repercussions hadn't died down 
for months, and now entrance to Comm Control was 
monitored by TV cameras and recorded by Cassandra, 
and you couldn't get in unless the duty-watch people let 
you.
The communications building controlled all contact 
with the Orion spacecraft Geographic still in orbit above, as 
well as the branch settlements around the island and the 
automated mining apparatus on the mainland. The main 
communications board was also the colony's defence centre, 
manned constantly as a human backup for the main 
computer defence systems. None of that had been needed 
for twenty years.
Rules, Justin thought as he buzzed the interior. They 
set up their rules. Fine for them, but now we have to take 
turns standing watch with the Firsts. It wasn't hard duty, 
and privately Justin appreciated the enforced reading and 
study time that comm watch provided, but it was another 
point of contention between Star Born and Earth Born.
Edgar Sikes opened the door.
'Ho, Edgar, I need a favour. I have to talk to my dad. '
Edgar didn't seem surprised. 'No can do. Cadmann's 
down south, and that's as much of an address as he left us. 
'
Edgar was eighteen, pudgy and brighter than hell. A


58
59
 


childhood back injury had kept him from early participation 
in sports, and he had the reputation of being more 
interested in computers than people, someone worth 
knowing if you needed information, but never the first to 
be invited to parties. He was slightly younger than Justin. 
They had never been particularly close, but now Edgar's 
father Joe was married to Justin's stepsister Linda. Justin 
wasn't sure what relationship that created between him 
and Edgar. Close enough that he could ask Edgar for a 
favour. 'Let's talk about it. '
Edgar shrugged and stood aside.
'Greetings, Justin-San. '
It wasn't surprising to find Toshiro Tanaka in Comm 
Control. Toshiro didn't sleep, at least not until nearly 
dawn and then not for long. He took advantage of that. 
Other Star Born could get Toshiro to cover their shift at 
the centre. Toshiro was going to sit alone and read or 
play computer games all night anyway, and by taking 
someone's shift he built up obligations. Like Carlos, 
Toshiro never wanted for coffee or tea.
'Greetings, Toshiro-San. ' Justin suppressed a grin. He 
wasn't completely sure how to take this new kick Toshiro 
was on. Toshiro was always polite, always smiled, but 
Justin had read about the manners of the Tokagawa cul-
ture with which Toshiro seemed to have become 
fascinated. Those people always smiled, even when they 
were about to chop your liver out. 'You've told them 
about the eel, then? Joe, he told you ?'
'A little, ' Joe said. 'You saw it, too. Tell us. '
Joe was sprawled in a massive sculpture, a chair and 
footstool Carlos had carved from the hard, dense, twisted 
grain of a horsemane root system. Carlos had installed it 
for his own watch. Butts and boots and elbows had pol-
ished and scarred it, but Justin believed it would last as 
long as Avalon.


Joe Sikes was greying, slope-shouldered and a little 
paunchy despite his best intentions. He was one of the 
three heroes of the Grendel Wars, holding a place just 
below Carlos and not far below Cadmann Weyland himself. 
Justin's generation believed as an article of faith that all 
Firsts had ice on their minds, but it wasn't easy to see what 
disability that gave Joe Sikes. The self-doubts characteristic 
of the Firsts bothered him less than anyone except 
Cadmann. Sikes always seemed to be working on 
something. He was strong on industrial development, 
which included maintaining and establishing; the mines on 
the mainland, and Justin had always found him easy to talk 
to.
That had changed, sort of, when it became clear that 
Sikes and Linda were much more than casually involved. 
Justin had never been able to justify his feeling of resent-
ment, other than feeling that Joe was too damn old for her. 
And he was First, the damaged generation.
'Five metres of fun, ' Justin said. 'Zack just about had 
kittens. "Kill it! Kill it! You have your orders, you know 
the rules, kill it!"'
'Glad you didn't, ' Edgar said. He tapped computer 
keys, and the image of Mother Eel rippled across the com-
puter screen. 'Looks harmless enough. Maybe we'll learn 
something. '
Joe Sikes grunted agreement. 'Yeah, but we still got 
problems from the mainland. Give Zack too much to 
think about, we'll overload the system. '
'No possible relationship, ' Edgar said. He jerked a 
thumb at the screen where the eel swam steadily around 
and around in the tank. 'No way that's going to explode. '
'Say what?' Justin said, 'Explode?'
'Well, I agree again, ' Joe said. 'But Zack may not. 
Justin, you're gonna love this. '
'Yes, ' Toshiro said. 'Most serious. Baffling. '


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'What in the world are you talking about?' Justin 
asked.
'Linda's working the new stuff up in the waldo room. 
Let her tell you, ' Joe Sikes said. 'We've had little problems 
at the mining site before. This is a big one, but maybe it's 
just more of the same. '
'Which will do well enough, ' Toshiro said.
'You sound worried. '
Toshiro shrugged. 'Concerned. A setback. '
'Hell, you're not going to live long enough to go back 
to Japan no matter what happens, ' Justin said. 'So you can 
stop worrying. '
Toshiro smiled politely.
'Well, it's true, ' Justin said. 'Coming back with me?'
'Thank you, I am on duty here, ' Toshiro said.
Justin nodded and crossed the large central control 
room toward the green door at its far end.
'That wasn't very nice, ' Joe Sikes told him. He jerked 
his head toward Toshiro, who was now absorbed in some 
kind of computer game involving medieval Japanese war-
riors.
'Well, yeah, you're right, but it's still true, ' Justin said. 
'There's no way we'll build enough industry to fire up 
Geographic and go back to Earth or anywhere else. Not 
that 7'd go. I can't figure why he wants to. '
Edgar Sikes shrugged. 'Beats me, I guess. I asked him 
once. '
'What'd he say?'
'Roots. '
'Eh?'
'Roots. Can't say I blame him. How'd you feel if you 
were the only white kid here?'
'I don't think I'd notice. '
'Toshiro does, ' Edgar said. 'There were four Orientals 
in the Earth Born, but they're all dead in the Grendel


Wars. Anyway, that's what he said. I asked him why he 
wanted to see Earth again, and he said "Roots". '
The waldo room was at the rear of the telecommuni-
cations building. 'Cassandra, ready or not, here I come, ' 
Justin said, and waited for the door to open. It didn't. He 
frowned.
'Sorry, I've been doing some reprogramming, ' Edgar 
said. 'Let Justin in, please, Cassandra. ' The door swung 
open.
Justin was immediately assailed by a sweet-sour triple-
dose of Eau de Diaper. His stepsister Linda was scaled at 
the robotics control panel. Her blonde pigtails made her 
look even younger than her seventeen years. She leaned 
back into a thick leather chair, silvered goggles covering 
her eyes. She might have been asleep. A hand-carved cradle 
that might have been built in the 14th century but was 
in fact a product of Carlos' workshop stood next to her 
work station. A three-month-old baby watched as if he 
knew what his mother was doing.
Joe shooshed the baby unnecessarily, then tiptoed over 
to Linda and planted a kiss on her lips.
She leapt out of the illusion sputtering, waving her hands in 
alarm. Then she pulled her goggles off, and sighed.
'Joe Sikes, I hate when you do that. ' She peeled off her 
headset and stood to hug Justin.
'Hey, Cad, ' he said to the baby. The three-month-old 
was still fat and wrinkly, his stubby little fingers reaching 
out and trying to grasp a chunk of the world. His watery 
blue eyes struggled to focus.
Linda had discovered boys when she was fourteen, and 
when she was fifteen they discovered her right back. She 
had been extremely popular and enjoyed every minute of 
it, a dozen lovers in as many weeks. Then she was preg-
nant, and suddenly she was tired of casual sex, tired of 
popularity, tired of the game.


62
63
 


And bang, she was attached to Joe Sikes - elderly, 
hard-working Joe Sikes. Justin remembered thinking it 
was pure lust. His little sister was one of those rare 
women who became almost ethereally beautiful as she 
swelled and neared term. If so, lust had ripened into 
something more stable - but a palpable erotic haze still 
shimmered in the air between her and Joe. His stepsister 
had found a husband and lover. She had also found a 
friend and teacher, and under Joe's instruction was 
rapidly developing into one of the most capable of the 
Seconds' engineers. Now she studied - Aaron had once 
said that while the Firsts had ice on their minds, Linda 
had integral equations on hers - worked and nursed her 
baby, and the only way to see her was to come to Comm 
Control.
'What we got?' Joe Sikes asked. His forefinger traced a 
lazy circle on the back of her neck.
'Geographies relays checked out, ' Linda said. 'I'm cer-
tain that the, uh... will you stop that for a moment? 
Thank you. Nothing garbled in transmission. We're get-
ting the right data, and it still looks the same: there are 
explosions in the mines. '
'Explosions, ' Justin said.
'In the mines, ' Edgar repeated. 'Ain't we got fun?'
'That sounds-' Justin stopped. 'Can't be grendels. '
'Unless they've learned to use grenades, ' Edgar said.
'Now there's a grim thought. Something break in?'
'Not bloody likely, ' Joe Sikes said.
Justin nodded agreement. The mines didn't exactly 
have just doors. 'So what is it? Machinery failure?'
Linda looked worried. Her face was thinner than 
Jessica's, but somehow softer at the same time. Little Cad 
had been good for her - good for the elder Weyland as 
well. At least six children would eventually call Cadmann 
'Granddad'. Colonel Weyland doted on all of them, but


Cadzie, as the colonel's first namesake, would get special 
attention. Justin felt a pang of jealousy, followed by an 
answering pang of shame.
'I'll do a show-and-tell at the meeting tonight, ' Joe said. 
'We'll want to make an emergency trip over there in 
maybe a week. ' He was pugnacious and happy, and Justin 
didn't understand that.
'You think it's that serious?'
'Kid, this isn't a conveyer-belt breakdown. Here -
Cassandra, show us Mine Disaster Three ' A phantasm 
formed above a holo pad. It looked like an ant farm done in 
neon vermilion.
Joe set his blinking cursor where several I minds joined in 
an angular lump. 'It looked like a momentary Hare of heat 
- very sharp - here in the processing equipment. And the 
sensors actually burned out. Weird. The entire assembly is 
completely jammed. The repair robots can't get to them. 
It's like something warped the entire unit out of 
alignment. Linda took a sonic profile of the entire opera-
tion. Look at the patterns of vibration leading up to the 
incident-'
A graph of sound patterns replaced the ant farm: the 
usual jagged hills and valleys produced by running 
machinery, punctuated by a sudden and violent pulse.
'We're going to translate that into sound. Listen-'
Chug chug chug.
Tung.
'Jesus Christ, ' Justin said.
Joe's lips twisted in a bitter smile. 'The Merry 
Pranksters. '
For a moment, nobody said anything. Then Justin 
cleared his throat. 'That's a pretty nasty accusation. 
They've never done anything like this. '
'First time for everything. '
'You're just unhappy about getting wet. '


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65
 


'Nah, that was fun. ' He looked at Edgar and got an 
answering nod. 'This is something else. '
'So how could they have done it?' Justin demanded. 
The only way to get all the way to the mining site is with 
Robor. Or one of the Minervas. God knows they're under 
control. How could they get in?'
'And that would be the point, now, wouldn't it?' Joe's 
usually even tones went flat and nasty. 'It was impossible 
to carve sixty-metre buttocks on Isenstine glacier, wasn't 
it? And wasn't it impossible to use seismic charges to send 
Morse-code limericks to the geological station?'
Justin restrained a chuckle and raised a hand in protest. 
'That may be true - but they've never done anything 
destructive, and you know it. What would be the point? 
This isn't their style, Joe. '
Joe's head cocked, and he waited.
'This isn't funny! It's just vandalism, ' said Justin.
Joe patted Linda's shoulder possessively. 'It was just a 
matter of time before they crossed the line, ' he said. 'The 
point was always to get our attention, wasn't it? I know 
that there are certain residents of Surf's Up-'
Justin started to protest, but Joe waved him off. 'You 
may know who they are, and you may not. That doesn't 
concern me at the moment. What does concern me is that 
this has gone far enough. '
'Something goes wrong, and the first thing you do is 
blame it on us Star Born. We're not the only ones on this 
planet, Joe. If this was caused by a human being-'
'What else would you suggest?'
'Don't know. Some kind of natural phenomenon. '
'Underground explosions aren't very natural, ' Joe 
said. 'Edgar has been saying the same thing. Got an 
answer?'
Edgar shook his head. 'Not me. Time to go relieve 
Toshiro. ' He strode off quickly.


'Right. Edgar can't explain it, and neither can you. '
Justin spread his hands helplessly. 'All right, I can't 
think of anything, but... Suppose it was caused by a 
human being, why think it was one of us? You Firsts have a 
lot higher whacko factor. '
'I remember. "ICE ON MY MIND. " Someone spelled that 
out in alfalfa, two years ago. HI drops functional IQ. It 
doesn't cause emotional damage. '
'Carolyn McAndrews, ' Justin said. Anil Mom's been 
getting harder to live with...
'All right, I'll give you that one, ' Joe said. 'Km I don't 
believe it was a First, and neither do you. '
Justin felt his fingers knot into fists. 'Double i. ilk. All of 
you came to this planet coasting on your tree/in^ intellectual 
egos. Thought you were the smartest things in the known 
universe. Then most of you lost a few points -some more 
than that. Add the Grendel Wars. Pretty high fear-factor 
there, you know? Hey, sis - does Joe still wake up 
screaming? Still scaring Cadzie at two in the morning... ?'
'Stop it, ' Linda said. Her voice was coldly serious. 'And 
stop it now. '
'You're crossing the line, Justin, ' Joe said.
'You too, ' Linda said, but it didn't sound the same.
She's made her choice, Justin thought. And it's not any of 
the Second. To hell with that. 'Just remember that. There is 
a line-'
'Justin-'
'No, sis, let me finish. There is a line, and we'd better 
both remember it. You can say Surf's Up did this as a 
prank - but it's your side doesn't want anyone going to the 
mainland. We all want to go. '
'So do I, ' Joe reminded him. 'No quarrel there. Now let 
me give you something to think about. How do you sup-
pose we were chosen to come on this expedition?'


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66
 


'I've read all about it, ' Justin said. 'Cassandra has the 
records. '
'Like hell she does, ' Joe said. 'Cassandra has the official 
records, but they're dry as dust. Laddie, some of us 
worked to get here. Did you ever think about who chose 
the colonists?'
'Well, it was a board appointed by the directors of the 
Geographic Society, ' Justin said. 'So?'
'A board of shrinks, ' Joe said. 'Psychiatrists and 
social workers. Rachael Moskowitz was one of them. 
And they picked just the kind of people you'd expect 
them to. '
Justin frowned. 'I don't see what you're getting at. '
'No, I suppose you wouldn't, ' Joe said. 'Let me put it 
this way. Damned near all the colonists were exactly the 
sort of people the shrinks wanted them to be. Colonel 
Weyland was an exception, a military man picked for his 
profession. Then there was Carlos. He qualified on brains, 
but the shrinks would never have picked him so his father 
bribed the selection board. He wanted Carlos as far from 
the family as possible. As for the rest' - Joe shrugged -
'some were people the shrinks approved of, and some, a 
few, maybe more than a few, wanted to go so bad they 
worked at it, found out what the shrinks were looking for, 
and played head games. '
'And you were one of those?'
'Maybe it's time-' Whatever Linda had been about to 
say was drowned out by the sudden wails of the baby. 
Linda glared at both of them. She swept her child into her 
arms, holding him close. 'There... there. ' She kissed his 
wrinkly forehead. 'Just stop it, both of you. I don't know 
who the Merry Pranksters are, but I can't believe that 
anyone, First or Second, would do something like this 
deliberately. It's not funny, it's dangerous. '
'So what is it?' Joe demanded.


'I don't know. I think it's the planet surprising us again. 
And that damned eel has got everyone upset. '
Justin searched his heart, searching for the voice that 
would say that she was right or wrong. She was right.
'All right, ' he said finally.
Linda grinned. 'Now, I can't have two of my four 
favourite men mad at each other-'
'Four?' Joe forced his mouth into a neutral position.
'Sure, now that Cadzie is here-'
'And your brother, I guess... and Cadmann?'
'Sure. '
And whoever is the father of the baby would make five, 
Justin thought. He could see that Joe Sikes was thinking the 
same thing. There was a long and awkward pause. 'Linda, 
isn't there some way to find dad?'
She shrugged. 'Edgar might be able to. lie's smarter 
than I am. '
Justin kissed Cadzie goodbye and went hack out to the 
main room. Edgar had taken Toshiro's place at the main 
console and was splitting his attention, watching some 
kind of holoplay through his goggles. Toshiro had 
another set. Whatever they were doing it was together, 
and not visible to anyone not wearing the head-mounted 
displays.
Justin thumped him on the back of the head. 'Edgar?'
'Yeah?'
'About that favour you owe me. I know that my dad 
doesn't have his tracer turned on, but can you locate him?'
Edgar flipped the lid of his lenses up. He stood up to 
stretch, elaborately, fingers linked over his head. His 
pudgy body was an upright spear, its tip twisting in a 
slow circle. Justin saw he was moving in response to his 
never-quite-healed back.
'Go straight into Sun Salutation, ' Toshiro said. 'Head 
loose as you come down. Hands further back, take your


68
69
 


weight with just your arms as you jump straight back... 
hold it... elbows back, down slowly. Now inhale, chest 
forward-'
Edgar was puffing a little as his head and shoulders 
came up, but he was much improved since the last time 
Justin had seen him. Toshiro's training was having its 
effect. Short of breath, but he wasn't complaining. 
Edgar finished the sequence, grinned at Justin while he 
emptied and refilled his lungs, and said, 'Cadmann's 
not wearing a personal tracer. He disabled the tracer on 
the skeeter. '
'Dad likes his privacy. '
'You bet. I don't know exactly where his lodge is. '
'Nobody does, except it's south of Isenstine Glacier. '
Edgar grinned at him wickedly. 'Well... what's in it for 
me?'
'First pick, next catch. '
'Even stringfish?'
'No problem. '
'Well, OK. Take over the watch, Toshiro-San?'
'Certainly. I relieve you, Edgar-San. '
'Thanks. OK, Justin, let's see what I've got. ' Edgar led 
him over to another console away from where Toshiro 
sat. 'Geographic has images of the fuel dumps he uses. 
Here-' Edgar's fingers tapped silently at a virtual key-
board display. The wall in front of them turned into a vast 
field of ice and rock: the wasted expanse of the Isenstine 
glacier which fed both the Amazon and the Miskatonic. 
Three tiny dots glowed redly. 'There. About thirteen hun-
dred kilometres apart. '
'Spare fuel cells. Each cell takes him about eight hun-
dred kilometres. So he carries two backups, and has 
emergency dumps as well. That's dad. '
'Note that they're roughly in a straight line-'
'And the last one ends nearly five hundred kilometres


north of the end of the glacier. Dad and the moms are 
collecting plants. The nearest cacti are probably a thou-
sand kilometres from the south tip of the glacier. '
'So the lodge is probably in this area somewhere-'
'Assuming that the straight line holds true, ' Justin said.
'Yeah. Well, additional evidence-' Then Edgar spoke 
softly to Cassandra. 'Cassie, I want to look at previous 
dates when Colonel Weyland took his tracers offline. '
'Weyland data is restricted, ' Cassandra said.
'Pretty please, ' Edgar said, and muttered something else 
Justin couldn't hear.
'Wilco, ' Cassandra said.
Edgar grinned. 'Search Geographic satellite watch for 
unusual infrared spots during just those periods. ' He 
looked at Justin, face screwed up in speculation. 'Ha. Has he 
ever made an emergency landing?'
'Last year. A rotor almost went. He was down 
overnight. ' Justin searched his memory. 'And three years 
ago. Got caught in a bad storm. Again he put down 
overnight. '
'The rotor should be on the maintenance records, ' 
Edgar muttered to Cassandra. Thermal maps of the glacier 
flashed by, held for the dates that Cadmann Weyland was 
known to be on one of his jaunts, and then rolled on. Justin 
watched in fascination as Edgar searched until two map 
images came into focus. They looked as if they had been 
taken from about three kilometres up, and on each of them 
tiny heat pulses flared.
'Campfires. ' Edgar was utterly smug. 'The dates prob-
ably match. Your dad put down overnight. First one 
matches the maintenance record. Second... ah. It was one 
of those nasty little solar flare storms. Must have got hairy 
up on Isenstine. '
'And ?'
'Your dad took a hard left turn here. Tricky. Then...


71
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skeeter range is eight hundred miles. Your father carries at 
least one spare cell, and doesn't like to space his fuel 
dumps further than thirteen hundred kilometres apart. 
That probably puts him about here... '
'Give me a vegetation map, ' Justin said.
Cassandra displayed some of the vegetation to be found in 
the area. 'He brought back some Avalon succulents last 
time. Does that narrow things?'
Cassandra searched, and came up with a fifty-square-
kilometre sprawl that met all of the conditions.
'Not bad, ' Justin said. 'Look for heat sources. ' Four lit-
tle pulses of red appeared. 'Volcanic, on a cycle?'
'I've got a better idea, ' Edgar replied. 'Cassandra -
when was the last routine scan?'
Her familiar voice was warm and cool. 'Eighteen hours 
ago, at the present level of magnification. '
'Night-time. Give me a thermal scan. Compare it to 
the chart we just made... and compare it again to... say 
anything before three days ago, back to a month. '
Edgar turned to Justin. 'Does that about cover it? 
When was the last time your dad was out?'
'About two months. '
'Good enough. So all we should have out there are 
some geysers, and maybe another hunter. Not likely in 
that little area, but maybe. Exclude all of that, and we'll 
have his campfire... '
'He likes wood-burning stoves, ' Justin said suddenly. 
'He's got a cabin, but it'll have a chimney. '
'And... bingo. '
They were looking directly down at a mass of trees 
near the eastern edge of the Isenstine glacier. 
'Camouflaged, ' Edgar mused. 'You could skeeter right 
over and never see it. That fire is stone-dead now. '
'Dad would put the fire out. He's very serious about 
that kind of thing. '


'So. Time for the stove to cool. Figure he left five hours 
ago... '
Edgar rolled his eyes up, and thought. 'With refuel-
ling... the skeeters make about one hundred and eighty 
kilometres per hour... he should be right about-' He 
poked his finger at the map. 'Here. Give or take fifty kilo-
metres or so. '
He grinned up at Justin. 'Betcha, ' he said, and went for 
magnification. Geographic wasn't in position, but he 
diverted one of the weather satellites to optical mode. 
Cassandra kept cleaning up the image, searching for some-
thing moving against a white background...
They went in through the mountains, and past the savage 
crevasses of the Isenstine glacier. Justin could almost feel 
the cold.
And there it was, a flickering shadow. A red circle 
enclosed it, and Cassandra zoomed in to show something 
that looked like a brine shrimp larva skittering across a 
pond. It was there one moment, gone the next. But 
Cassandra was on its track now, locked on, and Cadmann 
was caught.
It was Skeeter II, its silver-blue length magnified by 
satellite optics. The view was from not quite overhead. It 
was a tiny bit of metal and plastic, a thing of Man flying 
across an impersonal wasteland. It carried plant samples 
and three of the human beings Justin Weyland loved most in 
all the world.
'He'll need to make one more fuel stop, ' Edgar said. He 
laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his 
seat. His round face wore a smile of enormous self-
satisfaction. 'But that won't take fifteen minutes. This 
close to home he'll probably want to push it. I'd set ETA at 
about three hours. '
'Edgar... ' Justin grinned. 'Sometimes... '
'I know, ' Edgar said. 'Sometimes I amaze even me. '


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'Three hours before he shows... ' Justin glanced at his 
watch. 'I want to get at him with a full report before anyone 
else can tell him what's happened. '
He squeezed Edgar's shoulder. 'Thanks a lot, Edgar. '
'First choice. Stringfish. '
'You got it. '
Justin ran out of the communications room, ideas and 
thoughts of salt-water eels swimming dizzily in his head.


4 - Mount Tushmore
To compare
Great things with small...
John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667)


The eastern wind turned unexpectedly fierce, burning 
right through the furs surrounding Cadmann Weyland's 
face, numbing him to the bone. It had swept in across 
three hundred kilometres of the Isenstine glacier, picking 
up speed and dropping in temperature as it came. He 
shaded his face and cursed as he hauled the replacement 
battery across the intervening few metres between the fuel 
dump and Skeeter II.
Mary Ann remained in the cockpit, her cowled face 
visible through the powdered flurries. She would wait 
there until the last minute before jumping out to lend a 
hand. She had always hated the cold - still did, even with 
the fifteen kilos she'd gained since their second child.
Sylvia, on the other hand, loved it. She was locking up 
the foamed plastic dump shed, motions brisk and merry. 
That was the last one!' she called over the wind. 'We'll 
have to restock before we take our next run!' Then she 
crunched across the ice to help with the pushing.
When they were about three metres away Mary Ann 
climbed out of the skeeter and opened the battery bay. She


74
75
 


was reluctant but deft, and had the old trunk-sized car-
tridge out in about fifteen seconds. It didn't require three 
of them to lock the new battery into place, but it was 
good to have the extra hands: unsnap the used-up power 
cell, swing it to the side, new unit into place, snap on con-
nections, slide in, lock down.
Mary Ann shut the unit, puffed a breath of condensa-
tion, and said, 'Let's get out of here. '
They piled into the autogyro's passenger cab. Cadmann 
was in pilot's position on the right, Mary Ann in the 
middle; Sylvia, on the extreme left, was last in, and she 
slammed the door behind her. Mary Ann cranked the air 
blower up to a toasty pitch.
Cadmann watched the wind gauge to get a feel for the 
gusts. He couldn't take off if they continued to build. The 
gusts punched at the little gyro, rocking it, but not so hard 
now. Curtains of powdered snow danced across the glacier in 
front of them in a sombrely beautiful winter ballet.
Mary Ann interrupted his thoughts with a plaintive 
'Can we get out of here? Please?' She hated that little-girl 
petulance quality in her voice, but it was there too often. 
She closed her eyes and hunched forward to catch a little 
more of the hot air. Cadmann caught Sylvia's eye. She 
winked at him, and put an arm around Mary Ann to help 
warm her. Despite Mary Ann's lack of tolerance for cold 
weather, she rarely let Cadmann and Sylvia go on these 
trips without her.
There were times when she couldn't accept comforting 
from Sylvia, when any gesture of kindness or warmth trig-
gered a burst of resentment. This wasn't one of them. 
They pushed tight against each other. Sylvia tucked a ther-
mal blanket around them both. Sylvia's teeth were 
chattering, but she still managed to smile.
'Cad?' she said. 'If you don't get this thing into the air, 
we may walk home. '


He nodded without speaking, still trying to read the 
gusts. He patched into Cassandra on. a secure line and got a 
quick weather feed: no sign of the quick, violent storms which 
made traversing Isenstine so hazardous. This was just bad 
wind, not likely to get much worse. Carefully he engaged 
the engines, satisfied with the steady humm as the new fuel 
cell sparked to life. Nose and top and tail rotors spun into 
blurred motion one at a time, whipping noise snow from 
the ground. He engaged the de-icers ami the-wiper blades.
'All right. Buckle in, ' he said unnecessarily. He was 
almost embarrassed to say that to adults. It was just a 
habit he had got into, three kids ago. The kids were pretty 
much grown now, but the reflex remained.
The skeeter leaned forward against the wind and began 
to scoot along the ice. Then, nose-heavy, it lifted from 
the ground, spun a quarter-turn as a gust punched them, 
and rose into the sky.
Mary Ann poked her head out from under the blanket, 
and breathed a sigh of relief. 'Bet it's calmer up about six 
hundred metres, ' she said.
'Bet you're right, ' he said. His hands were locked surely 
on the controls now. At five hundred and fifty metres they 
hit low cloud cover, rocked for fifteen seconds, and then 
climbed up into relative stillness.
Tau Ceti transmuted the clouds into banks of gold-i 
white fluff. The air was crisp and clear. The window 
didn't quite seal on his side and a bright, arctic thread of 
air whistled through, stinging and invigorating.
This was good, one of those moments that made the 
rest of it all worthwhile. He felt the calm descend upon 
Sylvia and Mary Ann as well. Here, floating above the 
clouds, there seemed to be no troubles. Tau Ceti IV was a 
world of wonders, a calm and nurturing land which 
would feed and shelter their grandchildren as graciously as


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it served them. This was a time when he could forget the 
internecine conflicts within the colony, and the occasional 
friction between Mary Ann and Sylvia.
There had been less of that for the past year. He 
thought... he hoped... they had weathered the last true 
storm in their triad. There were too few western prece-
dents for three-way relationships.
There was nothing standard about relationships on 
Avalon. The naked truth was that, in an almost exclu-
sively heterosexual community, there were more women 
than men to bond with them. There was also no venereal 
disease. There was one hundred per cent employment. 
Someone would care for the children, whatever the 
mother's interests and temperament. As a result, no 
woman need consider anything except who might make 
the most interesting father. There was no stigma at all for 
the unwed mother.
But some institutions die hard, and marriage, even such 
free-form versions of it as existed in Camelot, was one of 
them.
Cadmann and Sylvia had been friends, perhaps in love, 
but not lovers, when the first grendel attacks shattered the 
colony's tranquil life and sent Cadmann off to the Bluff. 
Mary Ann had gone to him then, and helped build the 
Stronghold. It was as much hers as his.
Cadmann and Mary Ann had been bonded for years 
before Sylvia, widowed during the Grendel Wars, had 
joined them. Mostly, it worked. Sometimes wonderfully 
well. Occasionally it grated... usually on Mary Ann, who 
remembered when she had had Cadmann all to herself, 
when no one else would have wanted him. No one but 
Sylvia, who was already married, back when monogamy 
had made sense, before the grendels killed so many of the 
men.
They were probably two hours from the Bluff, and


Mary Ann was getting drowsy. Air travel often did that to 
her. She leaned against his shoulder, bouncing. a little in her 
shoulder harness. Sylvia looked across AT him. 
Sometimes he wondered exactly what she saw. Me knew 
what he saw in the mirror when he scraped his morning 
stubble away: a tall, grey old stranger who looked a lot 
like his own grandfather... or Manuel the Redeemer, or 
any of Cabell's male characters who were so surprised to 
find themselves old. Still strong and unbent, but the hair 
crept back from his temples now. Both weather and time 
had creased his skin deeply.
God. Where had the years gone? When was the last 
time he had awakened without his back flaming at him? 
He was... he counted rapidly. Sixty-three Earth years 
old? There was little he could do to avoid the fact that his 
body was trying to shut down on him. Oh, growth-
hormone stimulation and exercise and a strict nutritional 
regimen and regeneration treatments kept the machine 
functioning better than he probably deserved, but the 
aches and pains of a life nowise tame had definitely caught 
up with him. There were bullet wounds, a bayonet scar... 
even a goddam crocodile bite.
All trivial next to the wounds from the Grendel Wars. 
Bones smashed. The regrown leg. The pale, angry tattoo 
left by serrated grendel teeth. And the memories that 
would never completely fade.
And perhaps, after all, it was best that they didn't. The 
grendels were gone, but there were other dangers.
'Good trip, ' Sylvia said. She could always sense his 
mood. She was forty-seven now, still beautiful, although 
daily exposure to the sun had roughened her skin. The 
mask of youth was beginning to slip, but in her case that 
was no tragedy. Disguise your thoughts and inclinations as 
you may, time eventually reveals your true nature to the 
world. Sylvia was a loving heart in a lively, quick-spirited


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physical package, a little shorter than Mary Ann, but 
stronger. She had borne her late husband Terry one child, 
Justin, and then another for Cadmann, but her figure was 
still firm.
Mary Ann was Number One Wife - and she relished 
the distinction. Needed it. There was little in this life for 
Mary Ann save being Cadmann Weyland's woman. Sylvia 
remained a competent scientist; Mary Ann had ice on her 
mind. Sometimes she could remember, sometimes there 
were flashes of brilliance, but sometimes she was lucky to 
recall the difference between the gametophyte and sporo-
phyte stages of a fern. Once upon a time she had been a 
brilliant agronomist, but Hibernation Instability... For 
Mary Ann the memories of what she had once been were 
the worst part.
She was still important as Cadmann Weyland's 
Number One Wife, and as the mother of strong and self-
reliant children. / make good babies, she told herself, and, 
as with Carolyn McAndrews, everyone knew it was true. 
Over the years that had come to be enough. It had to be.
Home, Cadmann thought, remembering Sylvia's 
attempt at conversation; I think I want to break out the 
east wall of the house, expand it again. '
'You've got my permission, God knows. '
She gazed out the window at the clear sky and then 
peered down at the clouds. 'So peaceful up here. '
'I need these trips from time to time. Just to get away 
with my ladies. '
She reached across Mary Ann's sleeping form and 
grasped Cadmann's shoulder hard. So much unsaid. So 
much that could never be said.
Cadmann's thoughts threatened to drift into another 
uncomfortable direction, and he focused back on the task 
of flying. Ahead of them reared a great bevelled splay of 
glacial crust: Clay's Divide, a seismic irregularity one


hundred and thirty kilometres long, in the Isenstine. He 
grinned, anticipating the moment to come.
As the skeeter scooted over the gargantuan sheet of 
rock and ice, Sylvia began to chuckle. Then they both 
broke out hooting. Mary Ann was awake now, and smiling. 
The far side of the Divide had been carved - by some 
unknown thermal device - into Avalon's own Mount 
Rushmore. Presented for all the world to see were four 
sixty-metre-tall sets of very human buttocks. Anatomical 
detail was admirably precise. Mount Tushmore, as it was 
now called, was so huge that it had to be seen from at 
least a kilometre away to be fully appreciated.
Geographic had spotted it first, almost a year before. 
The general hilarity and grudging admiration were bal-
anced by alarm. How had they done it? And who? Well, 
the Merry Pranksters, of course, but who were they? 
Justin and Jessica knew, Cadmann thought; one or the 
other of them might actually be a Prankster. But there was 
no way that the carving of Mount Tushmore could have 
been anything less than perilous. The danger doubtless 
added to their pleasure in the deed.
'If we knew... ' he said finally, hovering at approxi-
mately anus-level with the second buttock on the left. A 
flat, petal-shaped protrusion marred the surface just below 
the right cheek '... whether that was just an irregularity in 
the rock, or a birthmark, it might be possible to figure out 
just whose buttocks those were... '
'But, ' Sylvia choked, '... and that's a big but... that still 
wouldn't establish whether the owner of said birth-marked 
buttocks was in fact the perpetrator. '
'How true, ' Cadmann said. 'It would be just like those 
rascals to display someone else's buttocks, just to throw 
us... off the scent. As it were. '
'Ahem. '
He spun the skeeter around and headed back north. He


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pointed his forefinger at Mary Ann, thumb cocked, and 
Mary Ann said, 'I do hate to leave it behind. '
About eighty kilometres from the Bluff, Cadmann 
engaged his comlink. Immediately Cassandra's familiar 
voice said: 'There are seventeen messages waiting for you, 
Colonel. '
He sighed. 'Any of them emergency?'
'In case of an emergency message I would have initiated 
contact despite your request for isolation, ' she chided 
gently. 'You have several priority dispatches, but no 
emergency. '
'Hmmm... sort and play. '
There was a beep, and before Cassandra could broad-
cast an old message the air crackled. 'Dad! Are you there?''
'Absolutely. Justin?'
'Glad you're on line. '
'Problems ?'
'We've had a little excitement since you left. ''
'Like what?'
'That would be telling. Why don't you just fly straight 
to Aquatics, dad - and promise me something?'
'Like what?'
'That you'll try to keep an open mind'
'You implying I have a problem in that department?'
'First edition: Oxford-Avalonian dictionary. Verb. 
"Weylandize". Definition "to render inflexible". '
'Ha ha. Want to give me a hint?'
'/ think not. See you in about twenty minutes. And first 
class promise about that open mind, remember?'
'Remember. '
Cadmann took himself back offline for a moment. 
Mary Ann was shaking herself awake. 'What was that?'
'Our eldest boy. He's got a surprise for me. At 
Aquatics... ' His thumb hovered over the control panel.


If he touched the switch again, Cassandra would come 
back on and in all probability tell him more about the sur-
prise than he really wanted to hear.
/'// let it be a mystery, he thought.
All right, Justin, m'boy. Thrill me.
The skeeter pad was clear as they dropped down toward 
Aquatics. A small crowd had already gathered around it, 
with another clutch of curiosity-seekers ringing one of the 
dolphin pens. Dolphins... ? Had Quanda and Hipshot 
finally made the beast with two backs, or whatever it was 
that dolphins did? But that wouldn't be a priority call...
He hovered for a moment, until the crowd backed further 
away. There had been only one skeeter accident on 
Avalon, but that was enough. A sudden gust of wind, and 
Harry Siep's arm was spurting in the dust. Lucky for 
Harry. It could have been his head, and heads were much 
more difficult to reattach.
They spun down into a perfect landing. Mary Ann 
threw aside her blanket and stretched like a big chubby 
blonde cat as the rotors began to slow. Before Cadmann 
could open the door Jessica was there, golden and radiant, 
flinging it aside to buss him soundly.
Seeing her made him sigh. She possessed all of her 
mother's beauty, and she didn't have ice on her mind. 
'Daddy, ' she whispered in his ear, as intimate as a lover, 
'we've really got something. '
He stepped down from the skeeter and was immedi-
ately awash in comments from the rest of the crowd. He 
waved an awkward hello. As always, he had the sense 
that the group was waiting for something. Some procla-
mation, some reaction from him. They hung on his word* 
as if his opinion meant more than all the rest of theirs 
combined. It was this as much as anything that created his 
intermittent need to escape, to be off in the south


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or fishing or collecting plants. On such trips he turned his 
goddam tracer off. Nothing but an emergency message 
was authorized to break through. Zack had 'tested' that 
precisely once. No one else had even tried.
Cadmann helped Mary Ann down, and she immedi-
ately turned to hug Jessica. Occasionally he suspected that 
there was some communication between mother and 
daughter from which he was utterly excluded, some dark 
and intimate female understanding.
At the moment Jessica was all showboat, twinkly and 
vibrating with secret knowledge, hugging Sylvia to give 
both mothers equal attention, then linking arms with 
Cadmann. Without another word she marched the three 
of them into the Aquatics building.
Justin opened the door for them.
Cadmann entered, and held his breath.
'Jesus Christ... ' he started. He was frozen, felt the chill 
right down to his heels. The beast reminded him of a 
moray, in some ways... but it was a good deal larger. 
'You dredge this out of the Deeps?'
'Damn' near grabbed it out of your living room, dad, ' 
Jessica said. Justin quickly recounted their adventure. 
Cadmann stared at Sylvia and then at Mary Ann. He 
excused himself brusquely and went outside to break 
through the ring of observers surrounding the dolphin 
tank. He needed a look at the beast itself.
A large yellowish plastic bubble framed the tank, and 
several wet oily splotches on the inside suggested that the 
eel had attempted escape. It glided through the water, 
swishing hard from side to side, around and around end-
lessly, expending vast energy. Jessica and Justin appeared 
behind him.
'Does it eat?'
'Sure does. Anything that swims. The dolphins have 
been sharing. '


'Has Big Chaka looked at this yet?'
'He'll fly in from the coast this evening, ' Jessica said. 
'Little Chaka's run a simulation. '
'And?'
Little Chaka spoke from just behind him. The voice 
was always deep and resonant, and a little surprising 
because it came from slightly above. Only two people in 
the world were taller than Cadmann. 'It lived in the 
Deeps, ' Chaka said, 'and came upstream to lay eggs. '
'It eats fish. Land animals too?'
'If it could swallow them whole. It's not built to carve 
out steaks. But I think we're seeing it at the end of its life-
cycle. This is an old creature. What passes for a liver is 
operating at maybe fifty per cent. I think it will be dead in a 
year. Have to ask father, of course. '
'Could it have had legs early in its cycle?'
'Interesting idea, but Cassandra says no. The eggs are 
almost mature-'
'Eggs?'
'Yes, we've got samples. What she's producing are 
thousands of little eely things that look just like her. No 
sign of legs. I think that Mother Eel is primarily aquatic, 
and can survive out of the water just long enough to get 
back upstream. She really prefers salt water to fresh. No 
sign of speed sacs or anything like them. This is a pretty 
standard animal. Not a lot of surprises. '
Cadmann heard Chaka's voice as if it came from the 
bottom of a rain barrel. A sudden wave of fatigue washed 
over him, hot and clammy, turning his limbs to lead. In his 
suddenly blurred vision, the thing in the water began to 
transmute. It grew legs, and its tail fattened. It reared up 
out of the tank with its huge, savagely powerful teeth 
drizzling blood, and snapped down just centimetres from 
his foot, and-
He shook his head, and all was normal again. A


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perfectly harmless eel swished angrily through the water. 
Harmless. Captured.
Swish, swish.
'So why has it come back?'
'To breed, ' someone said.
'What Colonel Weyland meant was why now? Chaka 
said. 'And we don't know. '
Cadmann turned to stare northwards toward the main-
land.
'Dad, we'll have to go there, ' Jessica said.
He nodded. The eel would start that debate again. It was 
time for a full-dress expedition to the mainland, had been 
for years. He'd always known they would have to go there.
Someday. He had no taste for it. After the Grendel 
Wars, he had thought he wanted that, and had made two 
trips to the mainland, the second shorter than the first. He 
had bagged a grendel with the new grendel guns, and been 
holoed grinning next to his prize.
But something had altered within him, some subtle 
tidal change in his bones.
If there was anything he needed to prove about himself, 
he would prove it here, on the island. And if there was 
anything that he needed to know about grendels, he 
would allow others to learn it for him.
He lived with awful, bloody dreams in which all of 
their efforts had meant nothing. In his sleeping mind, 
rapacious demons had rolled over the colony like a red 
tide, killing everything, everyone. The few dozen survivors 
stranded up in Geographic could hear the screams and see 
the blood, but they couldn't come down. Couldn't ever 
come down. And stayed up there until they slowly ran out 
of food... and water... and air.
Waking, he would shrug away the dreams. He didn't 
want to know how narrowly his sanity had been pre-
served. And when he thought about going back to the


mainland, he wondered what would happen if another 
grendel ever touched him. He wondered if he could take it. If 
his sanity would hold.
He didn't ever want to find out.
'... Zack, ' Justin said, pulling him out of his reverie.
'Zack?'
'Wants to kill it. And the eggs. '
He felt an instantaneous, visceral flash of agreement, 
followed swiftly by the voice of reason. 'As long as it's not 
dangerous, that's not his decision to make, ' Cadmann 
said. He pointed to the tank cover. 'Your idea ?'
Jessica looked sheepish. 'Zack ordered a cover. '
'Good. '
She hesitated. 'We didn't put it on until the eel tried to 
escape. Took three of us with poles to keep it in. Then we 
put up the cover. '
'Not when Zack told you to?'
'No, sir. '
'He had the authority to order that. Do you dispute it?'
'No, dad, it just seemed-'
Cadmann shook his head. 'Jessica, we've been through 
this before. Zack is Chairman and Governor, and we 
don't lightly disobey him. '
'You did. You rebelled-'
'Exactly, ' Cadmann said. 'I rebelled. Some things are 
important enough for that. But you don't do it lightly! I 
take it your researchers found the cover inconvenient-'
She looked at her feet.
'So you ignored a valid order because it wasn't conve-
nient. Do I have to say anything else?'
'No, sir. But he wanted to kill it, too! And we found it at 
the Bluff, not down here!'
'And at the Bluff you and your brother had every right to 
do what you thought correct, ' Cadmann said wearily. 
'Not here. '


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'It'll go to a vote, ' Jessica said. 'Can we rely on you?'
'To approve keeping it alive? Yes. ' He thought for a 
moment. 'That's not all that will go to a vote. The next 
question will be about the mainland, you know. That 
major expedition. Not just quick trips to initiate Grendel 
Scouts, but a study expedition... '
'Yes, ' Justin said. 'Joe Sikes thinks so, too. Something's 
going wrong with the mining robots. '
Something in Justin's tone made Cadmann frown. 'Eh?'
'Don't know. Joe thinks it's Star Born. But it's not, it's 
another Avalon Surprise. '
Cadmann nodded. 'And the ecology returns to 
Camelot. The wind blows from the north, part of the year. 
God knows what may get rafted over here. We have to 
know what else may come. '
'Avalonian homing pigeons, ' Justin offered. Jessica 
looked pained. 'And no grendels here to eat them. We're 
likely to be up to our clavicles in something. '
'There haven't been any for twenty years, ' Jessica 
offered.
'There weren't any eels for twenty years, either, ' Justin 
said.
Cadmann frowned. 'Good point. And the ecology is 
returning. Not just the eel. Why now?' He nodded in sub-
mission. 'Yes, there will need to be... some kind of 
expedition. '
'We can plan it on the next Grendel Scout outing, ' 
Justin said.
'Safety-'
Justin grinned. 'We can work that out, dad. We can 
work it all out. We just want to know that, if it comes to a 
fight, you'll be on our side. '
Cadmann hesitated.
'Or at least not against us, ' Jessica added swiftly.
Cadmann considered them both. The fear was in him,


dammit, not in them. Fear would be a horrible legacy to 
bestow upon his children. And... it was their world, 
more and more it was their world. They hadn't asked to lie 
born here.
Cadmann often wondered what the children - the Star 
Horn - thought about that. Did they resent being born here, 
denied the heritage of Earth? Earth, the solar system, 
crowded, teeming with humanity - and with the crowding 
came rules, rules, rules... He had come here to escape the 
rules. And now they had rules because they couldn't trust 
their own damaged brains.
And it's their world, not ours.
'Open mind, ' he said. 'I'm already bound. 
Justin?'


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5 - The Modern Prometheus
God bless the King, I mean the Faith's Defender; 
God bless - no harm in blessing - the Pretender; 
But who Pretender is, or who is King, God bless us 
all - that's quite another thing.
John Byrom, 'To an Officer in the Army', 
Poems (1894-1912)
The debate was already in full swing as Cadmann entered 
the town hall. The place fairly shimmered with the aromas 
of the communal meal: mutton and turkey, bakeries, mustard 
greens and steamed corn fresh from the fields. It was a 
laughing, murmuring, jostling family chaos. Three hundred 
- nearly every Earth Born, most of the Star Born, all of the 
Grendel Scouts, many children. There were tables and 
seats for more than seven hundred, and that was a 
reminder of the population they had expected to have 
before the grendels had nearly destroyed them.
The tables were tiered in amphitheatre rows beneath 
the corrugated roof, grouped around a central stage. And 
on that stage a tall, sturdy, golden young man stood at the 
podium, commanding their attention by his words and 
stance and very being. His voice was a master orator's. 
Every word from the thin, sensuous mouth cut as pre-
cisely as a razor. He was Cadmann's height and 
beautifully muscled. A shock of flaxen hair fell to his 
shoulders. His eyes were a startling blue-green, electric in


their intensity. Tau Ceti had burnt his eyebrows so blond 
they were almost white.
The young man's cheeks were healthfully hollow, his 
every motion perfectly judged as he emphasized his major 
points. Almost every sentence was punctuated by a cheer 
from the Surf's Up contingent, come inland for the weekly 
debate.
Aaron Tragon. Star Born indeed.
Cadmann listened distractedly as he found his way to 
the table reserved for him by Carlos and Angelica, the 
thin dark surgeon who was Carlos' most recent compan-
ion.
'-ladies in the audience will agree that the automatic 
tendency of most males is to assume a power structure 
which escalates from woman to man to God Almighty. 
This, at any rate, was the most frequent view of the 19th 
century-'
Cadmann slipped in next to Carlos and slapped his 
shoulder. 'Hola, Carlos. '
'Hola. '
'Hello, dad. '
Cadmann smiled warmly at his younger son. 'Ho. 
What brings you down from the mines?'
Mickey shrugged and looked at Mary Ann, but he 
didn't say anything, which was typical for Mickey. He 
seldom talked and when he did, not many listened to him. 
Mickey was smart enough, but somehow he hadn't 
learned to communicate.
Cadmann stood to hug Mary Ann and kiss Sylvia 
briefly. 'How's the debate going?'
'Stevens is in trouble. '
'Has Aaron reached the refutatio yet?'
'Beyond that. He's in the digressio, and I suspect that 
the peroratio will be an ass-kicker. '
'I like the subject-'


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, Even without electronic enhancement, Aaron Tragon's 
voice rose up to embrace them. '-Shelley's "Modern 
Prometheus" intended to steal not the flames of a distant 
Olympus, but those of Woman. And how natural for 
men, reading Frankenstein, to be deceived by her into 
believing that it spoke of a Man's attempt to steal the 
divine privilege. '
Aaron leaned forward over his podium, slamming his 
palm flat against the wood. 'But her mother's blood ran in 
her! Mary Wollstonecraft, the first feminist, author of On 
the Rights of Woman was smiling on her daughter. And 
when Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley wrote of a man's mon-
strous hubris, his ego, his attempt to stitch together from 
chunks of dead and decaying flesh an imitation of life, 
what she truly illustrated was Man's fear of Woman's cre-
ative power. His vulnerability to that fear birthed an 
attempt to do without her altogether. '
He paused for a dramatic moment. 'Did not Man's fear of 
Woman keep her a second-class citizen? Deprive her of 
education, of legal recourse, of the vote, of knowledge of 
the methods of self-defence, that she might remain chattel?'
Cadmann clucked to himself, and then looked across 
the room, seeking Zack's daughter Ruth. It took him a 
moment, but he picked her out. She was sitting at 
Rachael's side, leaning forward on her plump forearms, 
brown hair brushed back from her face, listening as if she 
were devouring every word. She was rapt, so attentive 
and worshipful it hurt to watch. If the girl weren't seven-
teen years old, he would have called it the worst case of 
puppy-love he'd ever seen. As it was, her infatuation was 
just one of the colony's most notoriously open secrets.
In comparison...
He stole a sideways glance at Mary Ann. She leaned 
backwards in her chair, trying to put distance between


herself and Aaron Tragon. Her mouth was drawn into a 
thin, disapproving line. She was nodding to herself, as if 
indulging in some kind of internal monologue.
So Mary Ann had a problem with Aaron. Somebody 
had to have one. Aside from Mary Ann, everyone just flat 
seemed to love the boy... though then again, Joe and 
Edgar Sikes weren't all that fond of Aaron either. And 
maybe Linda... But it was a short list.
Aaron Tragon was exceptional. Good at almost every-
thing he did. For Cadmann's money, that was an over-
compensation, a positive side-effect of Aaron Tragon's 
Bottle Baby complex.
The Bottle Babies were seventeen embryos raised totally 
in vitro, activated after the Grendel Wars and decanted 
nine months later. By then it had become clear that the fer-
tility rate among the surviving women was quite adequate 
to replenish the colony, thank you, and the in vitro project 
was suspended. Hundreds of embryos remained aboard 
Geographic. Aaron Tragon had been one of the first. 
Derik, the big redhead, and Trish, the gorgeous black 
bodybuilder, and Little Chaka, who might be the strongest 
man on the planet, were also clustered up there in the 
first ten. They were Aaron's constant companions, and 
only Little Chaka seemed more than a follower.
The three of them seemed to be sharing a joke on the 
rest of the colony, one which they declined to share.
They were children of the colony, unrelated to anyone 
on the expedition, raised by everyone. With the notable 
exception of Little Chaka, few had bonded to anyone in 
particular. Mary Ann had always thought it a terrible 
idea. She thought they should have been adopted into 
families, but she'd shared her opinions only with 
Cadmann.
Seems to have worked out all right. They seem like 
decent kids. Work hard. Come to that, Aaron did live


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with Joe Sikes for a few years, when he was what, ten or 
twelve, up until Edgar had the accident...
'-being a man, I stand to gain little by making these 
claims. Being a man of the 22nd century, in which we 
might have hoped that women would be loosed from their 
biological bondage, perhaps I could have another intent. 
For is not the drive to "free" woman from her biological 
"enslavement" also an attempt to lessen her importance? 
To steal her fire? Are we not then a breed of Prometheans? 
What happens to us, when this difference is reduced to a 
mere whim, or a matter of legal designation? I cannot 
say. I merely propose an interpretation of literary penti-
mento. As for the rest of it, I trust that wiser minds than 
my own will probe whatever additional truths might be 
found therein. '
Aaron Tragon bowed massively to Stevens, his chal-
lenger. Stevens was slight, scholarly, and managed the 
mining operation east of the colony where Cadmann's 
son Mickey spent most of his time. Their positions in the 
debate had been chosen by lot. From the wildly enthusi-
astic applause, Cadmann guessed that Stevens had been 
slaughtered.
The food-service staff came around, took their orders 
and brought sustenance. Cadmann relaxed into his meal, 
enjoying the spirited debate which surrounded him.
Carlos shook his head. 'What do you think, 
Cadmann?'
'''Frankenstein as a crypto-feminist tract? Not on pur-
pose. Nobody writes a tract that good... that close to 
immortal. How did Stevens do ?'
'His exordium was pathetic. The narratio was barely 
adequate and his refutatio was booed off the stage. Aside 
from that, just fine. '
Around them, Cadmann noticed that the women's 
voices were climbing a bit higher than the men's. As


Tragon left the stage he joined Jessica. They embraced 
and kissed lustily.
They make a good pair, Cadmann thought. Aaron 
Tragon was brawny, handsome and fiercely intelligent, 
and possessed a magnetic presence. My successor here. 
Zack's too? End this silly division between administration 
and security?
In any tribe, there is an Alpha. There had been a time 
when Cadmann thought Mickey would be his heir. He 
often wondered if he had pushed his son too hard. 
Whatever happened, Mickey wasn't interested in leader-
ship.
Aaron and Linda were paired for a while. A good com-
bination, but then something had happened and Linda had 
attached herself to Joe Sikes. An unlikely arrangement, and 
one that Cadmann didn't quite understand. Joe Sikes had 
been Mary Ann's lover before the grendel attacks, before 
Mary Ann had come to the Bluff to reclaim Cadmann from 
drunken despair. There had been nothing after that - then 
suddenly Joe and Mary Ann's daughter were paired... not 
merely paired but monogamously bonded.
Ruth Moskowitz moved toward Aaron, then back 
away. She had the faintly shell-shocked grin he'd 
expected. Good sport. Hey, if he likes Jessica, M right. 
The fingers of her right hand were twisting painfully tight 
ringlets in her hair. Probably pulling out a few strands. 
Rachael put an arm around her and held her daughter 
close. And that's another situation I don't understand, but 
I don't think I have to.
Surf's Up provided dessert. A deliciously spiced crushed 
ice, its taste and aroma resurrecting long-buried memories 
of childhood.
The audience decided, quite vociferously, that Aaron 
Tragon had triumphed in the week's debate. After a 
thunderous round of applause, Linda Weyland took the


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podium. Cadzie was bundled in a sling across her chest 
and nursed contentedly as she spoke.
'Unfortunately, ' she began, 'that concludes the 
evening's entertainment. What I have to say now is more 
sobering - and far more educational. Cassandra, bang. '
A glowing anthill filled the hall; it brightened as the hall 
lights dimmed.
Neon vermilion tunnels, dozens of them. Hundreds of 
bright green dots chewed at the tips, extending the tun-
nels, then flowed back up to the trunk of the beast. 
Cadmann remembered an ant farm his brother had built 
when both were small. These tunnels had more of a fractal 
look. Despite irregularities in the topography of this 
mainland mountain range, the automated widgets were 
following a plan; you saw a symmetry, large patterns 
repeated in diminishing scale.
In the tip of a tunnel, light flared. A conspicuous shock-
wave, confined, flowed upward to a main trunk. Refining 
machinery flared red, then pulsed red-black, red-black.
The crowd's whispered reaction was immediate, and
ugly-Linda raised her voice above the sound of that evil 
wind. 'Something exploded. Not high explosive, some-
thing more like gunpowder. How it got down there... 
well. All we know is that the refinery has shut down, and 
we can't correct the damage from here. '
Toshiro raised a hand. 'Couldn't this be any sort of 
normal equipment failure?'
Linda said, 'Toshiro, these bore collectors are just drills 
and a bucket for the ore. They run on solar cells and fuel 
cells: the fuel cells are just high tech-batteries; they can't 
explode. Anyway, there aren't any fuel cells where we're 
having the problem. '
'Of course you thought about this before. Sorry. ' 'It's 
OK. But people, it really was an explosion, and it


really did come roaring up from the tip of a bore tube. 
Cassandra, show us the interference waves. '
Which wasn't a lot of help, Cadmann thought. And 
there was Mary Ann, delighted, proud of their daughter 
and knowing damned well he couldn't read the patterns 
now flowing across the wall either. Mickey probably 
could, but he wasn't saying anything.
Cadmann leaned over to Carlos. 'Did yon know about 
this? Anything at all?'
'News to me, amigo. And I don't like the sound of it. ' 
Carlos stood and thrust his hand aggressively into the air. 
'Request to be recognized. '
'Sure, ' Linda said.
Carlos cleared his throat. 'There is a word which hasn't 
been spoken, but which I sense may be on many minds. 
The word is sabotage, and there are i\ thousand reasons to 
believe that no one here would do such a thing. This is no 
prank. It's the wrong style. It profits no one and it isn't 
funny. Before we form any opinions, I assume that 
arrangements are being made for an on-site inspection?'
Linda petted the baby, looked out to her husband for a 
moment, and nodded. 'Why would it be sabotage? How 
could anyone have put an explosive there? A gnat couldn't 
get into those tunnels. Of course we'll go and look at the 
machinery. We'll look, and we'll find out it was something 
weird. Avalon Surprise!'
Tip of a tunnel. No Merry Prankster could have 
crawled down a tunnel, Cadmann thought. Too narrow, 
and the central processing plant was a metal plug massing 
hundreds of tonnes. The mine was all nanotechnology; it 
had been growing in place for seventeen years. The tun-
nels led to it, not past it.
Cadmann leaned toward his son. 'Mickey? You know 
mines. Any suggestions?'
Mickey frowned and shook his head. 'Avalon Surprise, '


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96
 


he muttered, but not loud enough for anyone but 
Cadmann to hear.
As good as any other theory, Cadmann thought. You 
couldn't even... hmm... cause a bore collector to deposit 
a charge of dynamite or gunpowder? Acquired how? 
From the fuel-cell dump? A bore collector had been at work 
when the explosion happened.
It would have been a hell of a difficult prank. Would it 
be enough for the Merry Pranksters that it was imposs-
ible? There didn't seem to be any other motive. The mine 
was the colony's metal source. Why choke that off?
Joe Sikes limped up to the platform. 'Linda's right, it's 
an Avalon Surprise. Something else about this planet we 
don't know. Something that happens on the mainland and 
not here. '
'And it's time to take the Grendel Scout candidates 
over to the mainland anyway, ' Linda finished for him. 'I 
just wanted everyone to see how much trouble this was 
causing... '
She thinks it's sabotage, Cadmann thought. I guess I do 
too. 'Impossible' is a challenge to the Surf's Up crowd.
'So what should we do?' someone asked. 'Can we fix 
it?'
'We have to go and look, ' Linda said. 'There's no point 
in fixing it until we know what happened. '
There's that tone again. She really does believe it's the 
Pranksters. They get their joke and the mainland expedition 
they want all at once. Linda hates this, and she's talked Joe 
into leaving it lie. Wonder if that's the right approach?
It was clear enough that Joe would prefer it was the 
Pranksters. That would give him the moral high ground. 
Joe seriously wanted to be an Alpha male, particularly 
now that he'd hooked up with a much younger woman.
Cadmann would have stopped that marriage if he'd 
been able to. He still wondered what they saw in each


other. Because Linda looked very like her mother and 
Mary Ann had slept with Joe Sikes before Cadmann 
staked his claim? Be honest. She reclaimed me from an 
alcoholic fog. It's her claim on me, not the other way 
around...
Old news. Cadmann Weyland's effector nerves didn't 
extend into other human beings, not even into his daughter. 
It was a thing he had to relearn constantly.
Meanwhile: the bomb.
It was a difficult prank, but possible1. Develop your 
own nanobeasties. Or drill straight down from the surface 
to where a convenient bore collector would be in a week, 
or a month, if you could just work out the damned fractal 
pattern...
But it didn't feel right, and Cadmann It-It the hairs trying 
to stand up along his neck and arms. An Avalon 
Surprise, on the mainland, where there are dragons. 
Alarum: Linda would go to the mainland with his grand-
son. She never left Cadzie. Mary Ann had raised her 
children the same way, with lots of affection and bonding.
Linda and Joe knew those mines better than anyone, 
and they had no clue. So what was more probable? This 
didn't feel like the Pranksters. It was destructive and 
unfunny. And if not them, then an Avalon Surprise: like 
the grendels.
Mary Ann's hand closed over his. 'Penny?'
'Bad bargain, ' he said quietly. 'Bad memories. I'm 
going to be helpless again. '
'You don't like that feeling, do you?'
'Being tied to a table with a grendel in my lap. Being 
tied to this island while my grandson is half a world 
away. '
'Go with them. '
'I don't think they want daddy tagging along. ' What he 
didn't say was: I've had enough, Mary Ann. I don't want


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any more excitement. I've had all I need for one lifetime. 
Let someone else deal with the damned dragons.
And Linda was handling herself beautifully. She was in a 
spot: she had to admit the possibility of sabotage - but 
could admit it only to herself. She couldn't let that uncer-
tainty infect the Earth Born. On the other hand, she had to 
let potential perpetrators know she knew, and hope to 
God they had enough sense to stop.
A fine line, indeed.
There was another general murmur, and both Jessica 
and Little Chaka raised their hands.
'Jessie, ' Linda said. 'You wanted to say something?'
Jessica pushed Little Chaka ahead of her, and they both 
strode onto the stage. Linda and Joe Sikes retired hand in 
hand to their seats. Chaka strode to the podium and 
blinked at the crowd. 'Cassandra, display my Mother Eel 
demo, please. '
The screen behind him lit to show the eel struggling up 
the Amazon, flashed ahead to show it in the glacial pool, 
then cut to the covered tank where it glared up at the 
camera. 'Our visitor. She's not really an eel, but that's the 
closest thing Earth evolved to this - a big salt-water eel. '
'Sure startled me!' Jessica said. 'Came right into the 
living room at the Stronghold. '
Someone guffawed, and an adult voice shouted, 'Good 
thing for her Cadmann wasn't home!'
Chaka grinned uncertainly and started over. 'I looked at 
everything Cassandra knows about eels back on Earth, ' he 
said. 'It isn't really an eel, but interestingly, eels on Earth 
go long distances to spawn, and that's what Mother Eel 
was doing, trying to find the headwaters of the Amazon, 
following instinctive patterns that might be ten or ten 
thousand generations old. '
'Not ten thousand, ' someone shouted.
Chaka frowned in thought, and Jessica came to join


him at the podium. 'Probably not ten thousand genera-
tions, ' Jessica said. 'I agree, it's likely that anything that 
carried those genes would have been wiped out by gren-
dels. But we don't know. '
Chaka had found his voice. 'A shorter time argues that 
the grendels came to the island fairly recently, ' he said.
'And makes our point!' Jessica said in triumph. 'It's 
inevitable, really inevitable: the natural ecology of 
Camelot will come back now that the grendels have gone. 
Sorry, Chaka. '
He nodded absently. 'The natural ecology will come 
back. Shouldn't we know more about it?'
'Won't be the same. ' Edgar Sikes' nasal whine came 
from the audience. 'Can't be. '
'I know, Edgar. We've seeded the island with Earth 
species, ' Chaka said. 'When they mix, it'll get interesting. 
But we'd like to guess what any Avalon liteform will do to 
us. '
'Tell us more about the worm, ' someone called. An 
adult voice.
'Carolyn, ' Sylvia whispered. 'She sounds scared. '
'I don't blame her, ' Mary Ann said.
Chaka didn't seem to notice the fear. He spoke eagerly. 
'We've had the eel only a few days. And she's just one 
piece of the pattern! We don't know how she interacts 
with other life, with climate - with grendels, for that mat-
ter. We don't know what prompted her to swim upstream 
now, now when so many other Camelot species are changing 
their habits. We need to know what the mainland ecology 
is doing. Are things changing there, too?'
'And what eats grendels?' A child's voice from the back 
of the room. Several older children shushed him.
'Big grendels eat grendels. I've been over there, ' Joe 
Sikes said with belligerent pride. 'That's your ecology, 
Chaka. Big grendels, little grendels, grendels that live in


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snow, water grendels, grendels that build dams, grendels 
that are dams. Grendels eat grendels, and they deserve 
each other. There aren't any grendels here, and by God 
we'll keep it that way, so why do we care how our stupid 
eel interacts with grendels?'
'That's not fair, ' Jessica said.
Chaka cleared his throat. He sounded more positive 
now. 'We do have to know, Joe. What you don't know can 
kill you. If you hadn't known grendels need to cool off... ?'
There were murmurs of approval from the tables where 
the Surf's Up crowd sat. Linda nodded and pulled Joe 
Sikes back into his seat; and Joe didn't resist. You 
wouldn't have known to dump burning kerosene into the 
Amazon Creek, Chaka hadn't needed to say, to sear the 
grendels that were raging through humanity's last refuge.
'We need to know, ' Chaka repeated, 'and it should be 
clear, there's only one way to find out. We need a full expe-
dition to the mainland. A permanent base there. Not just 
trips to the highlands, mine inspections. We need a full bio-
logical team in place to study the mainland, study it now, 
before the winds carry Earth species from Camelot to the 
mainland - because once that happens we'll never know!'
'Now just a minute!' Zack Moskowitz half-rose. 'If it 
comes to that, we don't have to know-'
More murmurs. Cadmann frowned in thought.
'Wrong way to talk to the youngsters, ' Carlos said.
'We do have to know, ' Chaka said. Jessica nodded vig-
orous approval as Little Chaka stood to his full height and 
let his voice rise. 'We must study what is there now, we 
must understand the natural ecosystem, or we will be 
caught unprepared. For the past twenty years you have 
ignored this truth, the truth that it is impossible to live on 
this planet and hide from it at the same time. I say that this is 
our world, and we don't know enough about it. It's time we 
learned. '


There was loud applause from the Star Born, mostly 
silence from the First Generation.
'And we'll need all the resources, here and the main-
land, ' Coleen McAndrews said. Her voice was as serious 
as a fifteen-year-old's can be. 'To go back to the stars!'
The audience buzzed like an angry hive. There was no 
organized back-to-the-stars group and no real leader, but 
the issue cut across the generations. No leader yet, 
Cadmann thought. But when that girl grows up and all 
that enthusiasm matures we'll have another political fight. 
Lord, lord, why did we think we left all that behind when 
we came here?
Zack Moskowitz rose again. He took his place at the 
second podium, across the stage from Chaka. 'I think, ' 
Zack said, 'that an issue as important as this one should 
be considered as formally as possible. I propose a debate a 
week from today-'
'No!' Jessica stood, flushing.
'The chair hasn't recognized you, young lady. '
'The chair didn't recognize you either, Zack!'
'You know that I am the Chairman-'
'Of formal discussions, yes. But this isn't a regular 
meeting: it's an after-dinner discussion. You can't just run 
roughshod over it like you do over everything else, Zack. 
This is too important. Are you declaring an emergency 
meeting?'
'No-'
'Then wait for Chaka to recognize you. '
Zack looked to Cadmann for support. The king 
appealed to the warrior, but the warrior was ignoring 
him. Zack stifled his protest. 'Very well. I turn the floor 
back to Chaka. Chaka? May I be recognized?'
Little Chaka's white teeth gleamed. 'Jessica first, ' he 
said, 'and then you. '
Zack smiled sourly.


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Jessica took the podium. 'The time to decide this is 
now. We're already taking the Grendel Scouts over, and 
we've got to send a repair crew as well. It's the right time. 
Make this the beginning of a permanent base. '
'For what?' Zack said.
'For what? To learn about our world, ' Jessica said. 'We 
need toxological tests, soil tests - we need to know about 
parasites. The highlands would be perfect for an initial 
base. They're safe, at least. '
She looked as if she had more to say but had changed her 
mind about saying it. 'Chaka, can we alter this format?'
'Into what form?'
'Informal debate. Allow Zack to take the opposing 
view, at your podium. We can then field questions and see if 
we can come to a consensus this evening. '
Chaka yielded the floor and Zack took his place, giving 
Jessica a grudging nod. 'May I?' he asked. She inclined her 
head.
'May I ask what is the great hurry?' Zack began. 'You 
will shortly visit the mine site. Others will carry out the 
Grendel Scout rituals. When you've returned we can 
decide what needs to be done next. Perhaps by then we 
will know what has gone wrong at the mines. It's prob-
ably something natural but surprising. In any event, 
nothing need be done in haste. '
'There you go, being reasonable again, ' someone 
shouted.
Zack shrugged. 'I try to be. '
'You wanted to kill the eel, ' Jessica protested. 'That 
wasn't reasonable!'
Zack nodded. 'Yes, it was. The eel was unfamiliar, and 
we have standing rules formulated by our best experts 
after discussion. The rules aren't perfect, but they're the 
best judgements we can make. '
'And that one is wrong, ' Jessica insisted.


'Perhaps. This time it appears to have been wrong. but 
that doesn't mean all the rules, or even that one, are 
wrong as a general case. We can't foresee everything. '
'We don't have to foresee everything, ' Jessica said.
'You're talking past each other. ' Aaron Tragon stood. 
'I beg your pardon for speaking out of turn, but don't 
you see it? Governor Moskowitz is concerned that when 
an unexpected danger appears, we won't be able to 
decide what to do in time, and while it is unlikely that 
the delay will destroy the colony, it might. Isn't that it, 
sir?'
'Yes, exactly. '
'But here there is no possible danger to the entire 
colony, ' Aaron said. 'The people who go to the mainland 
may be in danger if they are careless, but the colony won't 
be... Actually, to be callous for a moment, if there's 
something so dangerous on the mainland that the only 
way to find out about it is to have the entire expedition 
killed, that knowledge alone is worth the price! It will 
make the colony safer, not less safe. Wouldn't you agree?'
Aaron waited a moment and, when Zack didn't 
answer, nodded politely and took his seat.
'Arrogant little snot, ' Mary Ann said.
'I thought he was quite reasonable, ' Cadmann said.
'You would. '
'Not that there is that much danger, ' Jessica was saying. 
'We've been to the mainland dozens of times now. We 
even take children to the highlands. And in all that time 
the only dangers have been grendels, and we know how to 
deal with those. '
'I'm still worried, ' Zack said.
'Name the danger. '
Zack shook his head. 'You know I can't. Call it Avalon 
Surprise. We couldn't have named grendels, but they were 
real. '


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'But you learned how to fight grendels, ' Jessica said, 
'and you taught us. By the way, thank you. From all of us 
Second-'
There was a murmur of approval. 'Well said, ' Aaron 
shouted.
'But, Zack, you knew it would be dangerous before 
you left Earth, ' Jessica said. 'Yet you came. You couldn't 
ask if we wanted to come-'
'We did think about that, you know, ' Zack said.
'Yes, sir, we learned all that in school, ' Jessica said. 
'And we're not sorry you brought us. But it's our world, 
too, and we want to know more about it. Don't we?'
Another chorus of young voices in enthusiastic 
approval.
'Except I want a shopping mall!' someone shouted. 
Everyone laughed.
'And we're learning, ' Jessica went on. 'The eel is impor-
tant because it's a reminder that we won't always have an 
artificially simple ecology here. We still don't know when 
grendels came to this island. We don't even know if these 
were normal grendels! Maybe they were-'
'Supergrendels?' Chaka said. He grinned.
'Or stunted, stupid, weak grendels, ' Jessica said.
'My God, ' Rachael Moskowitz said. 'That's a horrible 
thought!'
'So we go find out, ' Jessica said. 'And now's as good a 
time as any. A highland base with expeditions into the 
lowlands. Now. This year. '
A swell of applause, and not only from the Second.
'Count me out. ' That too came from where the Second 
were seated, to be answered by catcalls. 'Aww, poor 
baby-'
'Who staffs that base?' Zack had lost and knew it. 
'Who plans this expedition?'
'We can work that out, ' Jessica said. She looked


meaningfully at Cadmann. 'We're not fools, Governor, 
We want your advice. '
'But not 
our 
leadership
, ' Zack 
said 
quietly. 
That's 
plain 
enough. '
'We want that too, unless 
your leadership means 
going nothing without 
your orders. '
'We just want you to be safe-'
'If you wanted to keep us safe, you could have stayed 
on Earth!'
Mary Ann stood. Cadmann looked at her in surprise. 
Mary Ann almost never spoke at meetings.
She didn't wait to be recognized, but no one said any-
thing. Certainly Jessica wasn't going to interrupt her. 
'Why do you think it was safe on Earth?' Mary Ann 
demanded. 'It wasn't safe. Not even in the best neigh-
bourhoods. You must know that. We brought recordings. '
'Mom-'
'It wasn't, ' Mary Ann said. 'You think of Earth as some 
kind of Paradise Lost? An Eden? It was a horrible place, 
where all the education in the world wouldn't save you 
from losing your job, and there was nowhere you could go 
without graffiti and smutty drawings and criminals and 
people demanding handouts and accusing you of being a 
criminal if you didn't give them something. Where... 
Jessica, it's safe here, really safe, but it wasn't safe on 
Earth. That's why we came here!'
There were murmurs of agreement from the First.
'Well, mom, you make Earth sound more dangerous 
than the mainland. '
'It was, ' Cadmann muttered. 'We forgot that. '
'It's still the end of the debate, amigo, ' Carlos said. 'Jessica 
still wins. '
'Yeah, ' Cadmann said. 'And we'll have to plan it. '
'What you mean "we", paleface?'


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'We've got some time, though, ' Cadmann said. 'First 
they go to look at the mines, initiate the Grendel Scouts. 
Time enough for serious planning when they get back. '
Jessica thanked the audience and made her way to her 
father. She quietly touched his shoulder. 'Thanks, dad, 
mom. '
Cadmann put his arms around Mary Ann and Sylvia, 
drawing them in close. Mary Ann chuckled. 'If I know 
your father, you might be taking that thanks back in a few 
days. He's going to put you through the wringer. '
'I wouldn't want it any other way. '
'Jessica - can you and Justin come up for dinner?' Mary 
Ann brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. 'It 
would be nice to have a family dinner. We've been gone, 
and you'll be going over to the mainland... '
'Not tonight, ' Jessica said apologetically. 'This is going 
to be big news at Surf's Up. I think I need to be out there 
tonight. '
Sylvia looked up at Cadmann. 'How long do you think it 
will take to set up a lowland expedition?'
'Skeeter-based? Sighting out a location? A little pre-
liminary work. ' He closed his eyes, musing. 'Build it 
around the Robor. A fairly quick in-and-out. I would say 
no more than twelve hours, preparing for a much more 
thorough expedition in maybe a... month?'
Jessica nodded happily. 'You're reading my mind, dad. '
'Plans will be on Cass by tomorrow morning, OK?'
'Finest kind. '
The meeting was breaking up. Jessica and her brother 
headed toward each other, hugged fiercely, and collected 
in a cluster with some of the other Second. They went out 
the door together.
A hand smacked Cadmann's shoulder, and he turned 
around to face Aaron Tragon.


As usual, the sheer size of the young man hit Cadmann 
hard. Reminded him of a friend... long ago.
Ernst. First casualty of the grendels.
This should have made him feel a touch of nostalgia, of 
loss. Ernst had died because Cadmann had thought he 
could handle it. Could handle everything.
And for a moment it felt as if Cadmann were moving in 
slow motion. Tragon's glittering, wide smile was so 
intense and intimate it seemed the other shapes in the 
room faded to nothing.
The full force of Tragon's personality was so strong 
that Cadmann had consciously to remind himself where 
he was. Not in the past, but here, in the present... as if 
he had awakened from a micronap.
'-you for backing us, Cadmann. Jessica said we could 
count on you. '
That smile was dazzling.
'I imagine that you'll be going over?'
'Wouldn't miss Grendel Scout initiation. '
'Good, ' Cadmann said, and meant it.
'Not that Justin can't take care of the kids, ' Aaron said 
carefully. 'Well, good night, sir. Thanks again. '
Aaron turned, but before he could walk away, Ruth 
Moskowitz blocked his path. She stared up at him in 
admiration. Aaron paused and took her hand. 'You look 
lovely tonight, Ruth. '
She beamed. 'I thought you were just brilliant. '
He touched her right hand to his lips, winked at her 
and strode off to rejoin his coterie. Ruth took her right 
hand in her left as if she wanted to wrap it in tissue 
paper.
'I think I'm going to be sick, ' Mary Ann said.
Sylvia chuckled. 'He's a nice young man. I can under-
stand what Jessica sees in him. '
Mary Ann's smile was ghastly. 'Let's get home, Cad. I'd


109
108
 


like to build a big fire in the bedroom. Get really toasty. 
OK?'
'Sure. '
Sylvia unwound herself from his arm, and headed off. 'I 
want to check with Linda on her simulations. I'll be up to 
the Bluff later, all right?'
'No problem. ' The crowd was thinning now. Cadmann 
took Mary Ann's small hand in his, squeezed it gently. 
'Things are changing fast now. It had to happen. '
'I... don't want to talk about it just now. Cad. Take me 
home. '


6 - Surf's Up
Friendship is Love without his wings!
George Gordon, Lord Byron, L'Amitie (1807)


I
Justin brought the skeeter in for a last approach to Surf's 
Up. He'd skidded through the mountain passes. The land 
road would have added an extra five minutes to the trip. 
The thermals coming over the mountains could be a little 
hairy, but there were beacons in the pass, both visual and 
radio, so it was just dangerous enough to be fun. There 
were unofficial records for three paths through the moun-
tains under varying conditions; on visual, on radio, blind at 
midnight, fog, storm.
It kept the lords and ladies of Surf's Up busy, if not out 
of mischief. It also drove the adults crazy.
When he called in for landing he didn't get just the 
usual Cassandra go-ahead. He got an audio channel and, 
from the background noise, the party had already begun.
He shot out of the pass at a hundred and twenty kilo-
metres a second, accelerating all the way, putting him well 
ahead of the other Seconds racing him back from the 
colony. Light flooded the beach from a huge flat vidscreen 
twenty metres square that showed a day lit mountain scene 
on the mainland. He took the last few metres skewing


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111
 


sideways, shot straight over Surf's Up and out over the 
ocean, where a little night action was underway.
Justin had viewed holograms from Hawaii and Malibu, 
California, Australia and other places supposed to have 
the best surf action on Earth. In Justin's expert opinion, 
Camelot Island beat them all. The water was cool but not 
cold, the waves rolled forever and the surfing season lasted 
all year long.
Someone was riding his board in with a torch held aloft 
in one hand... no, now that he saw it more clearly, there 
were three of them, carrying horsemane gum torches that 
silvered the entire wavecrest. Two girls and a guy, and one 
girl was Katya Martinez, looking good.
Sand whipped in all directions as Justin touched the 
skeeter down. He dismounted and ran to the open barbecue 
pit, kicked off his shoes and did a kind of victory dance, 
screaming, 'We're going over, troops!'
They howled like mad dogs, and Little Chaka hurled a 
beer pod. It slapped Justin just above his heart. It stung, 
but the pod didn't break.
He grabbed a girl and got a long wet kiss, grabbed 
another one and did it even better, then plopped down in 
the sand and popped the beer open.
Derik Crisp spread big beefy hands. 'So?'
'So the mining machinery is down. Great timing. 
They've got to go over. '
'Great timing. ' Derik grinned. 'So how'd you do it?'
'Me? No, ' Justin protested. 'Hey, that'd be real sabo-
tage, nasty stuff. '
'Sure, ' Derik said. 'Sure. ' He was still grinning, but he 
read Justin's irritation. 'Does this have to be real? Nobody 
had to blow anything up. Just tell Cassandra to make pic-
tures. '
Justin said, 'I never thought of that. Who could do that?'
'Edgar, ' someone yelled.


'Yeah, but he wouldn't. '
'Depends on what he's offered, ' Little Chaka said.
Jessica had come running out of the communications 
room in time to hear them. 'You don't really think it's the 
computer, do you, Justin? Whoever did it would have-to 
be good, really good. They'd have to fool Linda and 
Joe-' She cut herself off.
'Yep, ' Derik said. 'Edgar Sikes could sure as hell do it. '
'And no one else, ' Jessica said. 'Gee, Linda's got enough 
generation problems without that. ' She shook her head. 
'And I saw Linda's files. Sure, if anyone can fake it, Edgar 
could have, but I just don't believe it. ' She looked accus-
ingly at Justin. 'The explosions were real. Now, how did 
they happen?'
'Sheesh! Why me?'
'Why Edgar?' Jessica demanded. 'Same reason. Who 
else could it be? Who could have done Mount Tushmore?'
'You wrong me, ' Justin said, but he had trouble hiding 
the pride in his voice.
'Aaron, ' Derik said. 'Aaron Tragon could have done it. '
Jessica nodded vigorously, and a lot of Justin's pride 
faded.
'I'm going to call them, ' Derik said suddenly.
'Hey now, wait-'
'No, just to talk to Linda. See if she knows anything. ' 
Derik went to put through the call.
Derik and Linda had had a thing, once, for about ten 
days. Calling her now might cause Joe Sikes to shove his 
phone down his throat. Jessica would have stopped him... 
but others were gathering around them now. 'What's the 
word?' someone called.
'We're going, ' Jessica answered. 'Not just the chicken 
run for the candidate Scouts. '
The light from the screen had been a view of the mining site 
on the mainland. Now it was Linda Weyland standing


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fourteen metres tall, holding four metres of baby Cadzie 
under one arm. Jessica couldn't hear her or Derik.
Aaron Tragon waded out of the water carrying a sand-
coloured, writhing shape. The thing wrestled with him, 
but he had it by the blades. He dropped it onto the grill 
and went for a towel.
The crab struggled as it cooked. It was a Camelot sea 
crab. They'd found more than twenty variations already, 
all with a bifurcated shell and four mobile limbs, but...
'This one's new, ' Chaka said.
'Study it quick, ' Aaron suggested.
There would be no rescuing the beast. Chaka knelt 
above the fire pit, one hand bladed below his eyes to 
shield them from the heat. He watched the crab move, 
noting the play of the joints. The crab had two wide fins 
for swimming, and the shell had expanded into a big aero-
dynamic plate. The forelimbs were agile little spears now 
trying to fight the fire. The armoured wrist/elbow joints 
were almost human in their agility.
'More incoming natives. Those wrists. You can't help 
wondering if something's waking them all up at once, ' 
Chaka said. 'I want the shells. '
Another skeeter touched down neatly next to Justin's 
and Stu Ellington hopped out. Six more came over the 
mountains in tight formation. Two carried firewood. One 
brought food from the main encampment. The others 
brought passengers, and the party grew until it seemed 
that the beach would sink under their weight.
Aaron Tragon strode among them and slipped one 
brawny arm around Jessica's waist. 'Well, now, ' he said 
merrily. 'I think we can call that a major victory. '
'Let's take a look at dad's plans first, ' Jessica said, 'and 
then we can decide how much victory we've got. ' She was 
about to pull free, reflexively. Justin saw her decide: she 
leaned back against him. They had been casual lovers for


nearly a year now. Casual: Justin had never seen Jessica 
change a plan in order to be with Aaron. Or any other 
man. Sometimes he wondered...
Justin felt someone kneading his shoulders. He looked 
around just enough to catch a glimpse of dark red hair. 
Long. Wavy. A face not pretty, but made beautiful by 
devastating eyes. Eyes to drown in, to die for. Katya. He 
reached back and grabbed her, pulling her close to him, 
and craned around to gnaw on her neck.
She was dripping wet and cold as death, and their bodies 
touched from ankles to eyebrows. A wave of cold washed 
through him, and he couldn't seem to control it. It had been 
a long time, and he was surprised by the strength of his 
reaction.
One of the other kids said, 'So - who's going over?'
Derik turned the volume up and Linda's voice blasted 
over the beach. 'We are! Joe and Cadzie and me, we're 
going in first. '
Justin, not quite watching Jessica over Katya's shoul-
der, saw sudden shock instantly swallowed.
They'd spoken once, when an older friend was seven 
months pregnant, and Jessica had remembered -
The adults around her were half-a-dozen fully pregnant 
women, her mother included. Jessica had been five or six, 
pretending to play, but listening. And the women must 
have been locked in a dominance game, detailing their 
prenatal discomfiture. Little Jessica had listened in awe 
and horror, stupified by the realization that she would one 
day be slow and fat and vulnerable just like the big ones, the 
adults...
Funny she'd remembered at all. Maybe it had happened 
only in Jessica's imagination. It was a story she'd told 
Justin when she was twelve, when an older friend was 
pregnant. For an instant, now, Justin saw Linda as her sister 
did. Trapped.


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The baby Cadzie was holding her prisoner. Before his 
birth she was already imprisoned, heavy and slow. Now 
she couldn't even attend a beach party. Now she was bur-
dened by what Cadzie needed: milk, nappies, the cobalt-
blue blanket, the bassinet, the conversations that 
wouldn't happen because everyone wanted to talk about 
the baby instead: the distractions.
A cacophony of voices was rising. 'I want to go. ' 'Me 
too. ' 'Hey, who's better at making a camp than me?'
'Room for a lot of us, ' Justin said. 'We can take, what, 
twenty Scouts and fifteen Second. And the candidates, 
though they come back with Linda and Joe, but still, we 
could really do it up right. Set up primary base on the 
mesa and a secondary down at Heorot. Do a little... fishing. 
'
Jessica got into the spirit of it instantly. 'Take two of 
the skeeters and survey-'
'Get the initial surveys from orbit. Let dad spot two or 
three likely areas-'
Aaron was into it now. 'Listen - we only need three 
skeeters to move the blimp, but four is safer. We can set 
up criss-crossing fire zones for the one that touches down. '
'Touches down?'
'Plants, soil samples, stick in some seismic detectors -
hell, we can do some serious work!'
Aaron swept Jessica up in his arms and smooched. 
When he set her down she gave him her very smokiest 
gaze, linked her arms around his neck, and drew him close 
for some serious kissing, her hips rolling against him in a 
clear 'all systems go' alert. Justin couldn't seem to look 
away. When they broke, she reached out and licked the 
underside of Aaron's upper lip. Onlookers might as well 
have been on Isenstine.
Aaron turned and leered at the rest of them. "Scuse us, ' 
he said. His great, corded arms linked around her waist.


He exhaled and lifted her onto his shoulders so that her 
belly button was centimetres from his nose.
Jessica giggled. 'Don't you dare bite-' And then 
uttered a shocked and somewhat dreamy 'Oh!' as he 
began walking backwards to his hut.
With a brief and bleary cheer, the rest of them returned 
to their party.
There was something in Justin that felt... out of place. 
He walked down to the water's edge and stood alone to 
watch the moonglade dancing in the surf. Aaron was bril-
liant, handsome, athletic. And wrong for Jessica. He was 
sure of that, utterly certain, but for no reason he knew. It 
was just wrong... somehow. Justin didn't much appreciate 
the thoughts and feelings nipping around the edges of his 
mind.
Katya came up behind him and slipped her arms 
around his waist. 'What're you thinking?'
North of them, two days across a warm grey sea, was 
the continent. He hoped it was far enough away. He 
wanted to be with Jessica, but if she and Aaron were going to 
be together... maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea for 
him to be there.
He could hardly tell Katya.
'What if, ' she said, her sharp little teeth gnawing at his 
ear, 'I took you back to my hut, and made violent love to 
you?'
'I'd consider that a right friendly thing to do, ' he said. 
A file flashed through his mind, all of Katya's preferences 
and pungencies, all of the ways she moved and whispered, 
her small guidances and encouragements and the many 
happy little bits of erotic filigree she superimposed upon a 
very basic act.
He hadn't really made up his mind, but she'd gone a 
good distance toward making it up for him. She took his 
hand and led him along a row of wooden huts built back


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vulnerable things, helpless before the cold and the preda-
tors? And isn't this act really about the rest of your life? 
And your children's lives? And your children's 
children's... ?
Isn't there a part, a place, a tiny, lone voice somewhere 
deep inside that asks if this couldn't, shouldn't, can't mean 
something more? That looks into the eyes of each and 
every partner, and asks, in its own way...
Are you the one?
'Carolyn was taking care of me, not mom. Mom wouldn't 
let anyone touch her. I saw her stop crying, and then she 
toppled out of the chair. A bunch of the grown-ups picked 
her up and ran her in to the hospital, and I don't know 
what happened after that. ' Katya stirred in his arms. 'I 
wasn't alone after that. They moved me right into dad's 
place. '
'I spent a lot of time there, too. '
'I remember. '
'You were hell's wrath with a grendel gun. ' She'd 
beaten him in the exercises, Justin remembered. 'Did 
Carlos start you early?'
She laughed. 'Yeah. '
'That outhouse we all built when we were, what, 
twelve?'
'About then. Geometry lessons, ' Katya said.
'Don't remember what we had in school that year, but 
that's how I learned carpentry. Katya, I must be slow of 
thought. Why did anyone want a classic outhouse?'
'Hendrick took a skeeter and lofted it to a peak in the 
mountains. Coffee pickers use it. There's not another out-
house in the universe with a view like that. '
'What did it feel like? I grew up with two mothers-'
'I had a great many, ' Katya murmured. 'Not just dad's 
guests. Mary Ann and Sylvia, Carolyn, Rachael


Moskowitz. Dad would skeeter off to find special rock, 
wood, crystals, bones; or he didn't want me underneath 
when he was welding. It must have been like that for the 
Bottle Babies, don't you think?'
'You're not like them. '
'No. ' Katya shuddered. Why did she do that? But her 
drowsy voice trailed off.
He turned onto his side. She snuggled up behind him, 
his buttocks tucked against the furred thatch of her groin, 
her hand reaching around to cup the recent instrument of 
her pleasure.
They had never spoken of a future together.
The moon was looking Justin in the face. Not Man's 
moon. He listened to the surf. His surf, but not his ances-
tors'. Shorter, quicker waves striking with more force in 
the stronger gravity...
But moon and surf belonged to his children, and his 
children's children, for generations to come.
The act of love so recently performed there, in that 
bed, carried its own rhythm, born in the eternal search for 
the Now. The search to end the lonely T. The endless 
search, conducted eternally, by every human being, 
throughout each isolated lifetime.
That rhythm was perhaps the only thing born of Earth 
remaining to them. And when those rhythms changed to 
match the moons and tides of Avalon...
As perhaps they had already begun to do...
What then would remain of them?
Jessica... he thought one last time. Before his thoughts 
devolved to mist, and sleep claimed him.
When Justin woke, Katya was gone. He could hear sounds of 
construction on the beach. He showered in cold water, 
pulled his pants on and wandered out.
The vast Chinese Dragon shape of the Robor was


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undergoing a full diagnostic over the Surf's Up beach. The 
hundreds of separate flame-and-heat-proof hydrogen pods 
that gave her lift were being individually listed for leaks, 
and the superstructure was being inspected...
Robor, as large as a football field and as tall as a 
twelve-storey building, was the largest vehicle on Avalon. 
He could lift forty tonnes of cargo. The Minerva shuttles 
could land anywhere near a water source (although the 
discovery of grendels had made that a nervous proposi-
tion) and also travel to orbit. The skeeters had more 
versatility and speed and manoeuvrability, but far shorter 
range. Only Robor could travel to the mainland and bring 
back the booty.
Robor was constructed mostly of moulded plastics. The 
satellites which originally surveyed Avalon had revealed 
oil in large quantities. When Geographic took her hun-
dred-year jaunt across the sky at one-tenth light speed, she 
brought with her three prefabricated factories to manu-
facture the kind of high-tensile plastics that only zero-gee 
processing made possible.
Robor had no independent motors. Instead, three 
skeeters were anchored to the upper frame in triangular 
formation, and hooked into the dirigible's main bank of 
batteries and Begley-cloth solar collectors. Their engines 
became Robor's engines.
Robor was a favourite target of the Merry Pranksters. 
He had been painted with huge cartoon-whale eyes, been 
transformed into a gargantuan 18th century Venetian 
gondola, and had once been sculpted by a half-tonne of 
lightweight building foam into a remarkably lifelike phallus. 
When Little Chaka pointed out that Robor couldn't lift in 
that state, the decorations had disappeared quickly, but the 
dirigible's pronoun remained 'he'.
His most recent incarnation was more innocuous, 
colourful... and oddly appropriate. In red and green


and electric blue, with a snaky white moustache and a 
huge, crimson-lipped leer, Robor was currently the living 
image of a Ming-dynasty dragon god.
The dragon hovered above the colony of Surf's Up, 
and in his shadow a working celebration of a kind was 
under way.
Justin spotted Cadmann's broad shoulders and greying 
hair through the crowd and sought him out.
'Morning, father figure, ' he grinned. They shared a 
hug. 'I wasn't expecting to see you. '
'We're putting a rush on it. I think the eel in the 
Amazon and the bomb in the mine shook some of us up 
just because they came so close together. Inquiring minds 
want to know. Like, why now?
'Just a moment, dad. ' Justin shouted to Toshiro 
Tanaka. 'Hey, Toshiro-san, can you go over this checklist 
and make sure we're not forgetting something? Thanks, 
owe you one. Dad, what's the report from Geographic?'
'Weather's fine, ' Cadmann said. 'They're doing a 
critter check on the highlands and Xanadu: nothing so far. I 
take it you're going on this trip?'
'Sure, I'm in charge of the candidate Scouts - after all, 
their overnighter was kind of disrupted by all of this. '
Justin led Cadmann to the main hall. Surf's Up's meeting 
hall was a 1960s Hollywood set decorator's fantasy of a 
South Seas beach hut, built of thorn wood and foamed 
plastic struts. The roof would have been convincing, 
except that the fronds were all from one mould, all identical.
Cadmann spread a roll of paper out on the table. 'I 
think better on paper, ' he said, although he had computer 
files as well. 'Cassandra, give me last night's notes, con-
struction mode, freelance. '
He spread out the paper. 'Here, ' he pointed, 'is the 
mainland. Thirteen hundred kilometres from here, and a


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good two days by Robor. You'll have some decent wind 
behind you. Coming back will be slower, but you can 
charge up off the mine's collectors. '
'We'll hook up for recharging as soon as we land. '
A small crowd had gathered to listen. Aaron slipped 
through the press. When he stood beside Cadmann they 
were almost exactly shoulder-to-shoulder. Aaron was 
larger, but time has a tempering effect available from no 
other source. Aaron Tragon might be a Cadmann 
Weyland one day. He wasn't yet.
'Yes, there's plenty of charge, ' Linda said from the 
door. 'The mine hasn't used any for a while. Hi, dad. ' 
Cadmann looked a little startled. 'You certainly made 
good time, ' he said.
She coloured a little. 'Take after my dad, I guess. '
Justin grinned to himself. Linda held the record for 
speed through that pass. She'd have been taking it easy 
with Cadzie aboard. Justin had already put money on her 
for the next Landing Day race.
Little Cad was nursing, or sleeping, or both. The cloth 
covering Linda's bosom made it difficult to tell which. 
'Dad, we've found two more maybe-type explosions in 
the mine record. '
'Grendel guano! Are the dates significant?'
She stared. Cadmann said, 'I meant, did they happen 
when someone might have wanted-? Skip it. Tell me 
more. '
'Recent explosions, twenty weeks ago and fourteen. 
Low-energy, like gunpowder again, 'way tamer than 
dynamite. But they didn't happen where boring was 
going on, they happened in the secondary processors. 
That machinery is very forgiving, and it just went on 
chugging. '
Cadmann thought carefully. If sabotage, then... test 
explosions before the real thing? But the real thing had


been something quite different. 'Got any ideas, small 
bright one?'
'Some defect in the thermal unit at the secondary 
processor? Some contamination in the coal itself? There's a 
mushy look to one of the spikes, like... less like a single 
grenade than a bushel of cherry bombs. '
'Coal dust?' someone said from the door.
She shook her head. 'Coal dust can explode, but we 
thought of that in the design. If air is mixing with the dust 
there'd have to be something wrong in the machinery, 
something Cassandra doesn't see. Even something 
deliberate. '
'Sabotage?'
She shrugged.
'Have you done a spectroscopic on the coal?'
'Yes, of course, months ago-'
'No, I mean recent. '
'Joe says we can't - the instrumentation is gone. We've 
got to go there. '
'I was thinking dynamite at the bit, but what if air were 
getting in?' Cadmann was looking about him, not obvi-
ously, trying to read faces.
'Possible, but tricky. We'll look when we get there, ' 
Linda said.
'All right. Bluff Two. Good moorage for Robor, and 
it's the right place for the Scouts. Make it the base and 
we'll check the other mine areas by skeeter. '
'What about the lowlands expeditions, dad?'
'Remember, this is a dry run. Take three days, check 
everything, do your overnight with the Scouts, then you 
can look for a good place for a base camp. Stay alert, and 
pull back fast if anything unexpected crops up.
'Reconnaissance in force, ' Linda said.
Cadmann grinned faintly. His fingers moved across the 
map. 'Once you're through with the Scout stuff you can


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do geology with one skeeter and use another for map-
ping. While you do that, the Scouts stay on the mesa with 
somebody steady in charge. Usual rules there. Stay high, 
no lowlands at all. Any variation from this order will be 
cause for mainland privileges to be revoked. Do we under-
stand each other?'
For a moment Justin wondered if Aaron would give an 
argument or say something provocative - he had been 
known to do that. But he wanted this trip too badly. 
Justin could almost see him sitting on his emotions, holding 
his tongue for dear life. Instead of smart-mouthing, he 
nodded.
Linda sighed. 'I'm sure that whatever is wrong, we can 
handle it. Nothing to worry about. Otherwise, ' she said, 
'I'd never take Cadzie with us. Never in a thousand years. '


7 - The Mainland
Its horror and its beauty are divine.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, The 'Medusa' of 
Leonardo da Vinci
'Can we talk?'
Linda looked up with faint annoyance. She had learned 
what all mothers learn. Sleep when the baby sleeps, stu-
pid! She'd just got Cadzie down for a nap.
'Please. '
Edgar looked desperate. Joe had been worried about 
him lately, worried that Edgar had problems he wouldn't 
talk about. Joe would want to know. She sighed and 
pointed to the sleeping baby. 'In your workroom, then. 
Cassie: Cadzie is asleep. Listen for Cadzie. We will be in 
Edgar's workroom. Call if he wakes up. '
'Understood, Linda, ' Cassandra said softly.
Edgar led the way. 'Coffee?'
'Sure, thanks, ' she said. 'I like coffee and I never get a 
chance to go pick beans. '
Edgar gave her an evil grin. 'There's one way you can 
get all the coffee you ever want. '
'I used to do that, ' she said.
'Hey, I didn't mean anything. '
'All right. ' She sipped coffee. 'I do like this stuff. OK,


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126
 


Edgar, what's so urgent it can't wait for me to get a nap 
while Cadzie's asleep?'
'Why don't I get laid?'
'What?'
He couldn't meet her eyes now. 'It's hard enough asking 
once, let alone twice. Why can't I get laid? I must be the 
oldest virgin on this planet. '
'You're not a virgin. You're a Grendel Scout. I was 
there. Trish Chance, the Bottle Baby. '
'Close enough, ' Edgar said. 'There was that once on the 
mainland. I didn't know what to do. Trish had to show 
me, and she hardly speaks to me now. '
'Why ask me?'
He sighed and shook his head. 'There was a time when 
I'd have given anything I had to sleep with you. You know 
that. '
She struggled to avoid laughing, and lost. 'I'm sorry, ' 
she giggled. 'But Edgar, I never knew-'
'You knew, ' he said. 'Come on, I don't know much 
about girls, but anybody could tell you were keeping 
score, making sure that anybody you hadn't made it with 
sure wanted to. You - unless I'm psychotic. Linda?'
'All right, I suppose I did, ' Linda said. 'And then one 
morning I woke up tired of the games. '
Edgar nodded, relaxing a little. 'You slept with damn' 
near everybody! Everybody but me. I figured, what the 
hell, eventually you'd get to me just for the record. But 
you never did. I guess you got pregnant first. '
'Pregnant and tired, ' Linda said.
'So I'd wait till you had the baby, and then I'd have a 
chance, but that didn't work because now you're my step-
mother! Near enough, anyway. '
Tired and pregnant and lonely, which didn't make 
sense because I could have awakened with anyone I 
wanted but... 'Let's just say I had a lot of friends. '


If he'd been a dog, Edgar's tail would have wagged. 
'I've read a bunch of different names that people used to 
use. Hooker. Town pump. Round-heels. '
'"Round-heels"?'
He laughed. 'Falls over easily on her back. And 
"hooker", I read about that one. There was a Union gen-
eral, lighting Joe Hooker, who had so many shady ladies 
following him that people called them Hooker's 
Battalion.
Thank you for the lecture, but that's quite enough. ' She 
stopped, and thought for a moment. 'But, come to think 
of it, Joe knows those words, too. He'd never use them, 
but he knows them. '
'Yeah. Wow, I never would have thought of that. Has 
he-?'
'Never. '
'Anyway, it never happened with us. Or anyone. It's 
that way with all the girls. Some of them are friends, but 
none of them want to sleep with me, and it's driving me 
nuts. Why doesn't it happen?'
'You're too eager, for starters, ' Linda said. 'And you 
have a talent for lecturing on the wrong subjects. '
'I tried being hard to get. That doesn't work either. '
'No, of course not. I mean-'
He looked down at himself with a sour expression. 
'Yeah. I know what you mean. '
'Then why ask?'
Edgar looked at himself. 'I'm fat. I've been taking 
lessons from Toshiro-'
'It shows, ' Linda said. 'More muscle tone. Better pos-
ture. Lose some weight and you'll look good. Edgar, I'd 
sleep with you now. I mean, I won't, but I would if I were 
doing that sort of thing now. '
'You mean that?'
'... Yes. '


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129
 


'You sound surprised. '
She smiled. 'Tell the truth, I am surprised. I hadn't 
thought about it until you asked me. '
'So why now, and not back when you could? You're 
just saying it?'
'No, I'm not just saying it. Edgar, you really are attrac-
tive, but it takes work to see that. ' She frowned. 'You 
make us work at it. I guess I mean there's something about 
you that drives girls, maybe not just girls, everyone away, 
until they get to know you, so there has to be a reason to 
get to know you. I had one - I'm in love with your father 
and he loves you - so I worked at it, but after a while it 
wasn't work. '
Edgar shook his head. It was hard to read his expression 
in the dim light from the viewscreens. Edgar usually kept 
the lights low in the rooms he worked in. 'My old man 
doesn't love me. And I don't know what you mean-'
'He does! Edgar, you're always testing people. Him 
most of all. You want to see just how much we'll put up 
with. Most of us won't put up with much. Why should 
we? But Joe does, and I had to - and you know, after a 
while you stopped doing it so much to me, and then I 
really got to know you, and you're actually a pretty neat 
guy, somewhere down in there. Keep it up with Toshiro, 
and pay some attention to yourself in the mirror, and 
you'll look like a neat guy, too. And then you'll get all the 
girls you want. '
'Maybe, ' he said, but he sounded happy.
And how much of that did I mean? But if he believes it, 
it might even happen that way. She was trying to think 
what else she could tell him...
'Linda, ' Edgar said. 'About your kid's father. '
'It's not your problem, ' she said automatically.
'No, but it's yours, isn't it?'
'I-what do you mean?'


'You don't know who the father is, and you're afraid to 
find out because you think it's somebody you don't like. '
'Edgar, that's a horrid thing to say. Maybe I don't like 
you after all. '
'Linda, do you want to know who the father is?'
'You mean you know?'
He shook his head. 'No, but I could find out. '
'How?'
'Cassie knows the blood types of everyone in this 
colony, including the babies. She has to. Someone might 
need a transfusion. '
'But Cadzie is O-positive, ' Linda said. 'So am I. That 
rules out some boys, but it leaves at least a dozen-' She 
saw his grin. 'Yeah, I wondered. A weak moment. '
'Linda, you didn't look at the minor factors. There's a 
lot more to blood types than the majors-'
'I know about MN factors, ' Linda said. 'And that still 
leaves a dozen. '
'You sure got around. '
'I used to be proud of it, ' Linda said.
'Sure put one in the Colonel's eye. '
'I guess there was some of that in it, ' Linda said. 'And 
showing him there was something I could do really well-'
'Why'd you stop?' He looked around, then back at her. 
'Yeah, yeah, dad knows the ancient magical words that 
turn a lady into a wench. It's still a good question. '
'I stopped because I didn't like myself any more, ' she 
said. 'And now it really is none of your business, and 
before you ask, no, I'm still not going to sleep with you. '
'I don't want you to. I mean-' He froze up for a 
moment, then forced words out. 'Dad would... He 
wouldn't kill us, but he'd think he should. Am I right? 
Anyway, let's just keep it simple, because I really do like 
you, and I guess I like my old man, and he's so much 
more, since you, him and you-' Edgar stopped and took


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a deep breath. 'Linda. If you want to know who the father 
is, I can find out. Cassie has more than blood samples to 
work with. She already knows, you know. '
'She does not. I asked her. '
'You didn't ask in the right way, ' Edgar said.
'What is the right way?'
He shook his head. 'I too know the ancient magical 
words. I can find out. I can keep anyone else from finding 
out, too. Anyone but the Colonel, or Zack - they can 
override anything I put in if they know my block's there. '
'Joe thought you could do something like that. You 
locked him out of some of your files, didn't you?'
Edgar didn't answer at first. 'Privacy is a right-'
'When you were eleven years old?'
'Well, yes, dammit! What's age got to do with it?'
She smiled. 'Not a lot. '
'So do you want to know? I can stop anywhere, ' he 
said. 'File accesses are easy to track, anyone can do it, and 
you spent a lot of time looking into blood typing and 
paternity and oestral cycles just after Cadzie was born. '
'Oh. Edgar, sometimes you scare me. '
'Just sometimes?'
'Yes, just sometimes. Let me think about this, OK?'
'Are you worried about who it is? Look, would you 
like me to cover your tracks so no one else can find out 
you were interested?'
'O my God, I never thought - Edgar, if someone else 
was - tracking my file accesses - would you know?'
'Yes. Especially if he asked me to do it for him. '
'Did... who asked you?'
'Aaron. Hey, it's all right. I didn't tell him anything!' 
He studied her. 'You think it was Aaron, don't you? You 
were together a lot last year. Like him and your sister 
now. '
She didn't say anything.


'Why don't you like him?' Edgar demanded.
'Why do you hate him?'
'I don't hate him. I'm scared of him, ' Edgar said.
'So am I. So, why?'
Edgar bent over as if to touch his toes. 'Pretty good he said. 
Toshiro's a miracle-worker. You know what Aaron did to 
my back. '
'Edgar, Joe says you fell out of a horsemane!'
'I did, ' Edgar said. 'It was a long time ago, when we 
were eleven. Aaron was living here then. Dad thought the 
Bottle Babies ought to have some family stability. He was 
even thinking of adopting Aaron. '
'You must have liked that!'
'Actually, I didn't hate it as much as you'd think. Not at 
first. Dad was pretty rough on Aaron. Said he had to teach 
him some manners, just like I had to learn. It was sort of 
fun watching Aaron have to go through that... ' He 
glanced down at the computer consoles. 'Cadzie's sleeping 
fine, ' he said.
She waited.
'So one day we went for a hike, just Aaron and me. 
You know Strumbleberry? High and dry, with horsemane 
trees on top. We camped up there overnight. Next morning 
we saw a pterodon dive into the topknot and come out. 
Aaron climbed up to see what was up there. He came down. 
Panting. Said he could beat me to the top.
'Aaron was ten and I was eleven, but he could generally 
beat me at anything. But he'd just tired himself out. So I 
said, "You're on!" and slapped his ass and swarmed up 
that tree. Near the top I looked and he was right below 
me, but I knew I could beat him.
'I pulled myself into that mass at the top and something 
snapped at my eyes, a claw big enough to take my head off I 
reared back and half a dozen claws like big scissors wen-
trying to take my face off, and then there wasn't anything


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under me. Next thing I knew I was falling. And I remember 
the look on Aaron's face as I dropped past him.
'I landed flat on my back. I couldn't move anything 
below my arms. It hurt like I was dying. It felt like I was 
killing myself to fish out my comlink card. I was sure it 
would be broken, but it wasn't-'
'Edgar! Aaron didn't call?'
'He called. He called after I did. Maybe he would have 
anyway. Maybe. But he didn't until I got mine out and 
called for dad. '
'Jesus. That's awful. But you never told anyone. '
Edgar said, 'I told dad. I don't know if he believed me. '
'I think he did. He doesn't like Aaron, ' Linda said.
'So I spent a couple of years recovering. Missed out on 
growing up with the rest of you. Damn' near missed out 
on getting into the Grendel Scouts. It was me who nailed 
down what's wrong with the Earth Born. And now I can't 
get laid. '
'And you blame that on Aaron?'
'Shouldn't I?' He paused. 'Why are you afraid of him?'
She shook her head. 'I don't know. He reminds me of 
my father, and that ought to be good. I'm not afraid of 
dad, but - Edgar, I don't know. Let's leave it at that. '
'Sure. And you're afraid Aaron's the father, ' Edgar 
said. 'So you don't want to know. '
'I didn't say that. '
'No, you didn't say that. '
'Edgar, has Aaron - has he been tracking my computer 
accesses?'
She was getting to know that grin. Edgar said, 'Linda, 
he's tried, but he hasn't been able to, because I blocked 
access to those files. Only it doesn't look like I did it - it 
looks like it was the Colonel. '
'That was a nice thing to do. You say he has tried to -to 
track my file accesses? And asked you to help?'


Edgar nodded. 'I told him I didn't have time just then. 
Then he tried on his own, but I'd been there first. '
'Thank you. ' She stood. 'I think I better go look at 
Cadzie, and we've got to get ready for the trip to I la-
mines. Let me think about this. Maybe it really IN time to 
find out, whatever the answer is. Thank you. '
His answering smile caught her turning. His proud 
smile. 'Wups. Edgar?'
'Yeah ?'
'I've got your attention now? You listen. You think 
about what I'm saying. You even work out ways to do 
things for me. '
Edgar grinned. 'Yes, mom. '
'Edgar, I can remember you losing interest in the middle 
of saying "Hello"! We used to talk about it, the way you'd 
get bored and walk off in the middle of something. You'd 
be off into something else with someone else - pro-
gramming, going back to the stars, what's with Earth, 
mainland ecology. Remember that T-shirt?'
Edgar remembered. Linda had cut a scarlet T-shirt to 
ribbons, so that it fell like lace across her body, dropping 
to her upper thighs, concealing and revealing.
She was watching him. 'Got your attention, did it? I 
just had to know I could. '
How would dad answer? Edgar said, 'I hope you sent 
that to Medical when you were through with it. Useful for 
restarting a stopped heart. '
'Edgar, is there a girl you could do something for? 
Something nobody else has thought of?'
His face went slack. She remembered that look: Edgar, 
withdrawing into his own mind. 'Maybe... I see what 
you mean, anyway. Linda? Thanks. '
Justin stopped short of Robor's top foredeck. The whiff of


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coffee was faint, but touched his brain from underneath. It 
came to Justin that Aaron Tragon was ruining even the 
smell of coffee for him.
Before the grendels came, before the humans seeded 
the rivers with trout and catfish, the First had scattered 
coffee beans over the mountain ridges. Coffee was easy to 
grow. It was a bitch to harvest. Coffee kept the First 
healthy! They had to hike into the mountains with back-
packs or do without. They'd come back with as much as 
they wanted, plus a little more for trading. That was why 
Carlos always had coffee, because someone always 
wanted a table or a bureau or a carved doorway.
Aaron always had coffee because he sent someone to 
get it. Justin had been among them when he was younger. 
The backpack groups always had fun, but they carried 
back smoked bear meat once instead of coffee, on Justin's 
suggestion. He hadn't gone again.
There was an inner circle at Surf's Up: the kaffeeklatch, 
the coffee drinkers. Some were addicted. Trish and Derik 
and (oddly) Ruth Moskowitz, and maybe even Jessica, 
didn't like the taste. They sipped; they made a cup last all 
night. If you weren't in, you were out.
Justin had dropped out. Others haunted the fringes, 
trying to find lives, but always ready to display a cup of 
coffee.
Coffee smelled like dominance games. Justin was begin-
ning to flinch at it.
Aaron squeezed his shoulder and slipped past him, and 
Justin realized he was blocking a door. He shrugged and 
followed.
The hum of the skeeters could be felt right through the 
floor of Robor, but even more clearly through the 
plexiglass windows at the bow. Jessica stood just behind 
several of the Scouts. They crowded against the windows, 
fought


for a place at the front. Palms and faces pressed against 
the plexiglass. Morning mist shrouded the sea below them. 
The loom at the eastern horizon was more blue than the 
rosy-fingered dawn images of Earth poetry.
They expected landfall about dawn, and the Candidate 
Scouts had been awakened early for their first look - real 
sight, not virtual - of the mainland they'd heard about all 
their lives.
She sipped her coffee from a hand-fired cup sculpted 
with a grendel tail as handle. This wasn't the instant stuff 
that her parents had drunk for the first ten years on 
Avalon. Coffee took some getting used to. The first beans 
had been harvested and ground, the first cups served, 
when she was just nine years old. She still remembered 
Cadmann's expression as he took the first sip, as if a rare 
and delicate mystery had suddenly been revealed to him. 
And her own first bitter sip, which she had spat out into 
the saucer.
Aaron had persuaded her to try it again, years later.
She felt large, strong hands clasping her shoulders, and 
shivered a little at the touch. Those hands were so strong 
and so gentle, when they wanted to be. They were always 
commanding, but usually gentle as well. She kissed the 
fingertips, and said, 'G'morning, Aaron. Sleep well?'
'Like a baby, ' he said. He picked up a broad-based 
conical cup and sipped as he peered out into the mist. 
The foredeck, one of the two upper above the cargo 
hold, was crafted of polished waxwood. This dark, 
smooth timber was one of the odd strains to be found 
south of the Isenstine. Carlos considered it had a finer 
grain than teak, and thought they could get a good trade 
going with Earth... if Earth was still there, he had 
added soberly.
A gust yawed Robor to port. The guidance computer 
noticed and the skeeter engines made their correction. The


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.
 


ship righted quickly, but the Grendel Biters oohed and 
ahhed and pretended to lurch this way and that.
'Look, ' Aaron said, squeezing her shoulder. 'Sunrise. '
It wasn't, really. It was a false dawn, the first rosy blush 
of Tau Ceti along the eastern horizon. The glow would 
fade, then minutes later grow stronger, leading into the 
light of day.
Some of the other Seconds were in the lounge, and the 
rest of the Grendel Scouts were pouring in. The window 
was floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall, curving slightly out-
ward, made of plastic strong enough to take an elephant's 
charge. The kids could lean against it all they wanted.
Jessica undogged a deck chair and moved it closer. 'Sit a 
spell. '
'Sure. ' Aaron dogged the chair to the deck. He 
sprawled out, relaxed.
Jessica watched him lazily. He was so casual about 
everything that he did, and so totally committed at the 
same time. If he sat, he was... just sitting. If he spoke 
before an audience he was just speaking. If he climbed or 
surfed, he was just climbing or surfing. And if he was 
making love, he was doing that and nothing else. It was a 
relief. Every part of him seemed congruent with the others. 
Unfragmented. Whole. And when he wanted something? 
But that kind of ruthlessness was natural to someone so 
purposeful.
Was she in love with him? She wondered that herself, 
and hoped that the answer was 'yes'. Her hand stole into 
his, and he clasped it.
A sliver of Tau Ceti had crept above the horizon now, 
and the reflected radiance pierced the mainland's cloud 
cover. The clouds were blue-black atop and silver beneath. 
All the passengers were awake now. Nobody wanted to 
miss the first general outing in over a year, and for most of 
the Grendel Scouts this was their first trip ever.


Justin brought up a chair and dogged it down. 'How 
many candidates do you think we have?'
'For a chicken run?'
He nodded.
'Six are old enough. '
'Think we can find a grendel for them?'
Nasty chuckle. 'Not one for each, but we can sure run a 
lottery. '
'Extra safety, OK? Lay on an extra rifle, ' Aaron said 
thoughtfully. Jessica examined him. Aaron Tragon was 
not usually the man who spoke for caution.
'Why?'
'Nothing goes wrong. Not now. We're about to get 
everything that we want. ' Unspoken: a permanent base on 
the mainland, manned by the Second. The beginning of a 
new colony.
Even more unspoken: the real colony. If Aaron had his 
way, he would lead that colony. He would set the artificial 
wombs aboard Geographic pumping out a hundred chil-
dren a month, and found a nation before he died. He 
would make the original landing little more than a foot-
note in the history of Avalon.
And why not? They were here to conquer a world.
The clouds were shot through with gold and silver 
now, and the mist was beginning to burn away. On the 
horizon, perhaps thirty kilometres distant, was the main-
land. The pilots had timed it beautifully. The Scouts began to 
applaud and hoot and stamp their feet.
The mainland was green and lush. The mist seemed 
almost to change colour there ahead of them, coiling and 
snaking around the bay which opened before them. They 
watched the water - dark grey foaming to blue, waves 
rolling in toward a rocky coastline broken by irregular 
reefs. The mist was heavy, oily - oozed from the ground 
like smoke and hovered close to it.


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Jessica's heartbeat speeded up, and a light, sour sensation 
of pleasure begin to boil in her stomach. This was only 
her sixth trip to the mainland.
The observation deck was getting crowded now. Carey 
Lou had drawn breakfast lots the night before. He served 
her a tray of scrambled eggs and sliced fruit. Jessica sipped 
and chewed and sighed, and felt that all was right with the 
world.
One of the first things anyone noticed about the main-
land was that it was more lush by far than Camelot 
Island... as if all the grendels had disappeared, but of 
course they hadn't. Still further north, on the vast prairie 
they called the Scribeveldt, Geographic had seen beasts 
large enough to give a grendel pause. Geographic's cameras 
showed tracks tens of kilometres long, pale lines 
scrawled across the vast green-brown prairie. They 
crossed and curved elegantly, as if some entity were trying 
to write messages for the stars. It was natural to call them 
Scribes, though all that could be seen from orbit, at the 
track endpoints were squarish blobs, prairie-coloured and 
nearly featureless. Scribes had to be herbivorous, but 
everything beyond that was speculation.
There was a forest at the edge of the Scribeveldt and 
sometimes Cassandra saw, or thought she saw, fairly 
large animals in herds. No one had ever seen a herd of 
grendels, and the only things that ate grendels were other 
grendels.
Robor rose to cross a ridge of splintered rock crested 
with dense green and green-blue foliage. The ridge looked 
like a gappy bottom row of teeth. Just beyond it the rock 
dropped away into a dense green carpet of valley. An old 
river fed by snows on mountains far to the north snaked 
lazily along the valley floor until it cut through the ridge to 
the ocean.
'Grendel hunting grounds, ' Aaron said. The candidate


Scouts stared down at the swamps and forests. 'We stay 
out of there. '
At the side of a pond beneath them, a herd of some-
thing vaguely resembling a cross between a horse and a 
pig drank nervously. Robor was only about twenty metres up 
now, barely three metres higher than the tops of the 
trees, so that the Scouts could see more clearly.
With a sudden, violent splash, something exploded 
from the water, so fast that their eyes could hardly follow 
what happened next. One of the beasts at the edge of the 
water was bowled backwards, smashed flat by the awe-
some velocity. Probably dead that instant. The other 
animals fled in all directions, in a sort of galloping waddle.
But that wasn't what captured the watchers' interest. 
That wasn't what caught every eye in the lounge. No one 
seemed to breathe.
There, perched above the torn and bloodied body of 
the pig-creature...
Was a grendel.
A voice came over the speaker in the lounge. 'Grendel 
kill, ' Linda said from the control room. 'We have just 
seen a grendel kill. ' The clear curving outer wall clouded 
and a video window opened up on its right side. The death 
scene was replayed for them in slow motion.
The camera brought them in close. The herd of pig-
beasts drank slowly and carefully. Three stood guard 
above the bank while the herd went down to the water, 
just a few at a time, in their clumsy, laughable waddle. 
Then, in even slower motion now, the pond's surface 
bulged, broke, and five metres of black death exploded 
from the depths.
Jessica whispered, 'Oh God, ' just as stunned as anyone 
else in the room. It was impossible not to be impressed by 
this creature, the most savage predator that mankind hud 
ever faced.


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Blunt snout. Crocodile armour. Blunt, spiked tail. It 
emerged at rocket speed, and the pig-thing died snorting 
water and blood. Its body deformed as the grendel struck it. 
It tumbled back, ploughing up dust and grass. The 
computer, enhancing some kind of wide-angle holo view, 
kept right with it. Another, wider screen angle, still in 
slow motion, showed that the rest of the animals broke 
and headed for cover almost instantly, running fast, but at 
normal animal pace. No animal save grendels had ever 
been observed moving on speed.
Grendel teeth had torn the victim's belly and rib cage 
open. Blood spurted, covering the grendel's snout. It bur-
rowed its teeth into the wound, head-deep. It ripped out a 
mouthful of viscera before looking around, and then up, 
directly at Robor.
It opened its mouth, and closed it in that disorienting 
holographic slow motion. Blood and saliva drooled away 
from the dagger-like teeth, droplets running down as it 
screamed challenge at them.
Was it the sound of the skeeter engines? Their aerial 
bulk? The grendel's eyes locked with them, as if uncertain 
of Robor's distance. As if it thought they might challenge it 
for the meat.
It screamed a scream that they couldn't hear. Then it 
turned and hooked its spiked tail into the carcase. Its tail 
differed from pictures of the Avalon grendels, with one 
big, gaudy hook almost underneath, and the shattered 
scar where a matching hook had been.
The pig's bleeding had slowed to a trickle. Its feet still 
trembled a bit. Just a twitch, now. The grendel dragged it 
back, down into the water.
And, the moment after the grendel sank, the recording 
played over again at normal speed. The pig-things 
approached the shore; one darted in to drink; death 
smashed into it and tore it apart. Jessica flinched violently.


'Jesus, ' Aaron said. 'I love those damned things. '
She looked at him, and for a moment felt something 
akin to jealousy. Love hadn't been too strong a word. His 
eyes burned. The grendels represented something... raw 
power, absolute single-mindedness... naked ferocity?
Some quality or Gestalt which Aaron Tragon 
respected.
Admired.
Loved.
She had never been certain that he loved her. But she 
could never doubt that he loved grendels. Loved hunting 
and killing them, likely enough. But loved them. More, 
probably, than he loved anything else in the world.
How very odd to feel jealous of a monster. But Aaron 
can't really love grendels! I couldn't love a man who-
There was more to see. Plains that sloped away from 
the mountains. Get a kilometre or so from running water 
and you saw lush vegetation and more animal life. There 
were creatures that looked reptilian - nothing too large, 
but several packs of animals that momentarily darkened 
the plain, then broke and ran at the first touch of Robor's 
shadow.
Here the brush thickened to jungle density. Her heart 
leapt. There had been virtually no exploration of the 
mainland forests. Almost no categorization of flora or 
fauna. Little mapping, save by satellite. Except for terri-
tory immediately surrounding the mining concerns, there 
had been precious little of anything.
And now... a lot of that was going to change.
Lunch came and went before they caught sight of their des-
tination. The mountain emerged from a smoky haze, mist 
so thick it was almost like volcanic ash. It was bare and 
weathered, curved and hollowed, spotted here and there 
with patches of green until it resembled a mossy skull.


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Pterodons arced gracefully through the heights: a touch of 
something familiar, thank God.
Jessica's hands moved by themselves, checking her 
rucksack, as she gazed out. This land, this whole land, was 
theirs for the taking...
It seemed that Aaron was reading her mind. 'They 
don't want it, ' he said, shaking his head as if in amaze-
ment. His strong, sure fingers dug into her shoulders. It 
hurt, just a little bit.
That was like Aaron. He hurt, a little. It was difficult 
for him to remember just how strong he was. So strong, so 
smart... so sure of himself. It was no wonder that she 
was in love with him. His air of remoteness only increased 
the temptation, and the value of the prize.
The burr of the skeeter engines grew throaty. The floor 
vibrated beneath her feet as Robor took an eastern heading, 
sliding along a table of mountains. It was the warm season 
and everything was green and brown and yellow-blue. 
Later in the year, there would be snow. Further inland 
there were higher ranges, but here, barely three hundred 
kilometres from the coast, was a rich supply of ore. Robor 
passed over the first mining camp. Jessica wandered up to the 
control centre, where Linda and Joe were reviewing 
telemetric reports from the site.
'Anything new?' she asked. She ducked her head to fit 
into the low-ceilinged room. She watched the computers 
and screens as Linda pored over them, completely 
absorbed.
'Ah... nothing. Everything is just fine. We'll be at the 
site in less than an hour. Check there first, and then we 
can look back and check the others. '
'Any additional information?'
'Not sabotage. '
'Why?' Jessica asked, trying to keep the relief from her 
voice.


'The vibration signature. It's more like black powder 
than any of our standard blasting compounds. If some-
body were going to booby-trap our mining equipment 
they wouldn't use some kind of unstable low-yield com-
pound. They'd use something concentrated, neat, reliable. 
That's what I'm thinking. This is just weird. '
Jessica laid a hand on Linda's shoulder. 'Oh well. 
You'll have your chance to inspect things close up in... '
'Thirty-seven minutes, ' Linda said.
'Then we'll be over Grendel Valley. Aaron should be 
thrilled. '


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8 - The Grendel God
God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, 
And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our
face, A gauntlet with a 
gift in't.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 
Aurora Leigh (185 7)
Old Grendel was hunting. She lay covered in mud under a 
mash of water and rotting vegetation. The river lay almost a 
kilometre behind her, but the ground was soft. She'd 
burrowed her way up from the river over many days, 
clawing through the dirt, allowing the water to follow her. 
And here, so far from moving water that her prey must 
consider themselves safe, she waited.
One was nearby. Large enough to last for three days, 
becoming truly sweet only on the last day. A snouted thing 
with hoofs and big ears and large eyes. The snout quested 
about, testing.
Ah, gently, gently. If the wind shifted in the wrong 
direction, then Snouter would scent, and Snouter was fast 
enough to lead a merry chase. But not fast enough to 
evade Old Grendel - no, not even in these days of sluggish 
blood, of slow heats and rapid cooling. Old Grendel still 
had speed.
Old Grendel had murky memories of her youth, when 
she had first emerged from the water, a dim-brained beast, 
before a sickness caught in the high water had opened her


eyes. To the degree that she was capable of such things, 
she felt an almost reverential awe for those high waters. 
Something there made her itch, made her head hurt until 
she thought she would die of the pain. She could do little 
but wallow in her agony, unable even to hunt effectively. 
Even the depths of cool water helped little. But when the 
pain receded...
She could see differently. She didn't know how else to 
think of it. In her youth, Old Grendel had seen the world in 
basic gradients of scent and taste, of need and satiation. Her 
life cycled: hunger forced speed, speed created heat, heat 
forced her back to water. But after the change, after the 
swelling of her head, and the pain... She'd come out of it 
mad with hunger, too weak to fight the lake monster, until 
the patterns showed her what to do. Then she was the lake 
monster, and there was prey everywhere, everywhere she 
hadn't looked. Hunting was easier. She used speed less 
often. Fights for territory became less bloody. She saw 
everything more clearly, and understood what she saw.
In those days she had been sleek, and as fast as rainfire. 
She was absolute death, the empress of her domain. She 
had given life to a hundred thousand children, and perhaps 
ten had survived to maturity. These she had driven 
upstream to the heights, when she could. Two had tried to 
return, to challenge their mother on her own ground.
She had gutted them without mercy, the killing flare in 
her head and in her body stronger than thought or reason, 
stronger by far than any rudimentary maternal instinct.
Those had been good days, and perhaps her greater 
intelligence was a curse. She was not what she had been, 
and she knew it. No longer so fast, so strong. Her wounds 
no longer healed as swiftly.
For any creature unwary enough to be caught within her 
kill radius, she was a flash of teeth and claw and


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pebble-textured black armour and spiked tail. Five metres 
long and a quarter tonne of instant murder.
But speed drained out of her more quickly these days, 
and the generated heat stayed longer. She was afraid to go 
as far from the water as once she had.
There were advantages to the Change. A grendel hunting 
is a grendel whose mind is lost to speed. There is no 
thought, only action. Chase and fight and kill, a race 
against the heat inside; get the prey to water, and feed. 
Years ago the sight of prey would madden her, would 
drive all caution away. It was sometimes so now, but not 
as often. She could think ahead, imagine the consequences of 
actions.
In sane moments she wondered if the tree-dwellers 
knew this. These wretched creatures would lure a desper-
ately hungry grendel far from water. They darted high up 
into one of the thorn trees when the grendel blurred 
toward them, leaped from tree to tree when the grendel 
tore down the tree trunks.
Old Grendel remembered that she had almost died. 
The creatures had led her from one tree to another until 
she'd nearly cooked herself. She'd be chasing one and it 
was gone, and here was another, out of reach and slug-
gishly making for another tree, and the hunger and killing 
urge were so terribly strong. And another further on-
She'd found the control to make for water before it was 
too late, before her internal organs roasted with the heat 
of her own speed. Behind her, scores of the creatures were 
suddenly chattering at her from every tree and tuft of grass. 
Long-legged and long-armed furry things made of crunchy 
red meat screamed their mockery. In saner memory she 
could see the length of their teeth... could see that they 
were also, in their strange way, hunting.
She'd stayed clear of the forest from then on. Years 
later, she had seen hunter-climbers feasting on a dead


grendel who had been lured too far from water and 
cooked in its own heat. Not of her kind, that grendel. 
The naked red bones of its huge shoulders and forearms 
named it: it was of the kind that built dams. She chased 
the hunter things away and ate the corpse of the dam 
builder.
There were things that hunted grendels, just as she 
hunted them. But what worked with a young grendel 
failed against Old Grendel. She had eaten hunter-climbers 
and found their flesh delicious; but then almost anything 
was delicious, even swimmers, even her own swimmers. 
Since the Change she was vaguely aware that, while all 
food was good, some was better. Meat was better than 
plants, walkers better than swimmers, alien swimmers better 
than her own. It had always been so, but she hadn't 
known it.
Now Old Grendel was slow. Still a blur, but a slow 
blur, if you like. She would wait for Snouter to get 
closer...
Snouter stopped, turned, looked up nervously. It made 
a flabby wet sneezy bray and turned again, bending 
almost double, and bolted into the trees.
Old Grendel was too surprised at the sound in the sky 
to give chase. The sound made her uneasy and reminded 
her of the Death Wind, but it was not the same.
It came from the south, filling the sky, shadowing the 
land. Red and green. Unimaginably huge fangs. Terror 
on a scale she had never known filled her body, her heart. 
It was a grendel of cosmic size. It was God. It blotted out 
the sun, its giant lips grinning at her, challenging her.
She tried to disappear into the mud. If this thing, this 
colossus wanted her territory, there would be nothing for 
her to do but die.
But she would fight! She had to fight! It came straight 
at her, looming like a mountain, moving not much


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quicker, and she felt the speed course through her body, 
preparing her for action.
The speed roared through her like a flame, and she 
couldn't move. She couldn't see how to reach the beast! 
Slow, slow, it didn't have to be a new breed of grendel. 
Was it challenger or meat? How to reach it? Fire roared 
along her veins and her mind was shutting down. That 
rock? No, that somewhat more distant log-
She lurched from the mud. Mud splashed across startled 
snouters. Instinctively she smashed one with her tail, 
curling it so that the creature wasn't hooked and caught. It 
screamed and lurched away, but Old Grendel ignored it and 
flashed onward. In seconds she reached the low end of a tree 
that had fallen across a white boulder. For another second 
she was clawing her way to a stop, skidding in a curve 
along the mud, while the snouters scattered in all 
directions. She reached the naked roots and blurred up the 
log and launched herself and tried to take her bearings as 
she flew. The God of Grendels was too big to miss.
She had never seen anything so large in flight. Certainly 
she had no practice targeting such. She was falling below 
it. It was as if she'd jumped at a moon! Her claws were 
ready, she had one last surprise for the beast when it 
turned to snap her up... She'd be no more than a mouthful, 
but she would burn its mouth...
She smacked down into a couple of centimetres of shal-
low water over soft mud. The impact knocked her dizzy, 
but she clawed for leverage and skimmed a tight curve, 
knees and ankles buckling, across the mud for thirty 
metres, then burrowed.
She was sixty metres from where she had been, buried 
snout deep in moist dirt, motionless, with only her snorkel 
raised. The heat was leaking from her - the fatigue too, 
but too slowly. At this moment the God of Grendels could 
have her for a snouter. Where was it? She lifted an eye.


It was behind her. Above and behind, moving away.
It was leaving! She had driven it away! She had 
defended her territory-
But as, pain-filled, she crawled back to the river, the 
image of the hideous thing filled her mind. At sonic time 
in her long, long life, she had seen something like it before.
Much further away. It had flown. Its markings had been 
different then, not a grendel at all - a black back, pale belly, 
enormous eyes - but it might be of the same species. It had 
moved the same, sounded the same. It too had been vast, 
larger than a whole brood of adult grendels. Bigger than a 
cloud. She could not begin to comprehend its meaning.
She had done a dangerous thing. The huge-eyed night-
mare was going where she could not, where no rivers ran, 
and where jungles and hunter-climbers did. But she'd fol-
lowed a rare rainstorm uphill, and kept moving after it 
was gone, up the slope of a nearby mountain.
That was not long after the Change. With her new sight 
she'd felt that she could do anything. She had reached the 
peak of the mountain and placed herself above that thing, 
in time to see it sink down to kiss the ground.
Three smaller flying things had left it. God's swim-
mers? Much smaller creatures had swarmed below it. 
Parasites, she surmised, seeking to spread their kind. But 
though they showed only as dots, she could guess their 
size. They never went on speed for as long as she watched. 
Slow, stupid: not grendels, but prey.
Then she'd crawled back down to water. Never a drop 
of rain came to cool her. She was ravenous every step of 
the way, and she had never gone on speed. If she had, she 
would have died.
Now this, the Grendel God. If it were prey, it would 
feed all the grendels beneath the sky.
She'd been hungry before; she was ravenous now. New


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prey. New tastes. New games to lose and win. New blood 
to wet her snout.
New, new, new.
If Old Grendel had been able to clarify her concept of a 
god, she would have prayed to it. The spawn of grendels 
were so small, not even a mouthful. One of those two-
legged things would feed her beyond her capacity. She 
would bury it in the mud for a day, or two, or three, until it 
grew sweet. Until the water-bugs came and ate its eyes 
into raw wet sockets, and the tissues bloated with nectar. 
Then she would feast.
The first tinglings of speed, urgent and warm, began to 
stir her. She clamped her mind down. She was already too 
close to being burned out. They could hunt her, this New 
Meat, this spawn of the Grendel God. They were slow, 
and clumsy, but... experience tried to warn her of danger.
All creatures make mistakes.
Hunter-climbers made mistakes. She had cracked their 
bones with her teeth and savoured the sweetness within.
She wiggled back toward the river, a few centimetres at a 
time. God floated toward the Cloud Mountain, where it 
began to descend. Where the first huge-eyed Great Flyer 
had descended. No rivers ran near there. Too far. Always 
too far, up the rocky slopes where she could go when 
there was enough rain, but that happened seldom.
But all things were prey to a grendel, and all things 
must spawn. Its spawn would come down to water. If she 
could not eat the great flying creature, then she would eat 
its spawn.
'Deadwood Pass, ' Jessica said. The roboticized mining 
camp was located on a kilometre-wide mountain pass. To 
the east the land fell away steeply across rocky ground to


the Grendel Valley river some called the Styx, twelve hun-
dred metres down and nearly ten kilometres away. The 
west side of the pass was less steep, falling three hundred 
metres to a high desert in a couple of kilometres of boul-
der-strewn cliff slopes. The pass was bounded by steeply 
rising slopes to north and south. When the First had found 
this area ten Avalon years before, a stream had run down 
from the northern peak. It wasn't a large stream, but it 
was enough to worry the First. They had changed its 
course with dynamite. Where once it flowed down to the 
pass and then westward into the desert, now it veered to 
the east and fell over a series of cliffs to make spectacular 
waterfalls. They had installed sluice gates so that water 
could still be diverted to run in the old stream when 
Deadwood Pass was occupied.
Water meant grendels. When grendels hunted they 
went on speed. It made them incredibly fast, but it also 
generated heat. A grendel too far from water could cook 
itself. They had never seen a grendel more than two kilo-
metres from water, except in rainstorms.
Joe Sikes examined the area below with binoculars. 
'Base, this is Joe Sikes. I have examined the pass and I con-
firm no change in water levels, ' he said formally.
'Roger, Joe Sikes, ' Zack's voice said. 'Geographic con-
firms no cloud formations, no rain expected, all water 
levels at or below normal in all directions from 
Deadwood. You are cleared to approach. '
'Bring her down, ' Sikes called. He continued to look 
through the binoculars, sweeping his view up and down 
both sides of the pass, then up and down the sharply-
rising peaks bounding it. 'Jess, Linda, please confirm this, I 
see nothing. ' He handed the binoculars to Jessica.
She made a cursory examination and saw Sikes gri-
mace in disapproval. All right, I'll play your game. She 
looked again, this time sweeping the glasses slowly from



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the western desert up to the pass, across and down to the 
eastern valley floor. 'Joeys, ' she said. 'I see three Joeys 
about fifty metres north in the shade of the solar conver-
sion cloth. Otherwise nothing. '
Linda took the glasses and looked again. 'Confirm, 
normal, three Joeys, ' she said formally, then laughed. 'It 
must be safe if the Joeys are out like that. '
'Roger, ' Zack's voice said. 'All right, you're cleared to 
land. Keep us posted, and stay in touch, and we'll keep an 
eye on you. '
Winds constantly blew across the pass, sometimes from 
the west, more often from the ocean to the southeast. The 
small flat area of the pass was smoothed by the constant 
wind. Now that the stream was diverted, there was little 
green, just short brown and purple grass and twisted 
brown bushes. The area was ugly enough, but it did hold 
a permanent mainland base: a square shelter to hold 
batteries and fuel cells; a hut good for overnight, packed 
with emergency supplies and technical equipment; and 
of course the mine itself. The north slopes above the pass 
were covered with solar-electric conversion material 
woven into the flexible sheets called Begley-cloth.
Jessica took back the binoculars and examined 
Deadwood Pass. The first thing she saw was a tubular-
frame geodesic dome crouching like a spider above a great 
dark hole in the earth. Usually steam would be gushing 
from the hole. Today there wasn't even a wisp of vapour. 
The problem wasn't here. They already knew that. They'd 
find the primary damage six or seven metres away, in the 
refining apparatus.
Linda had the controls while Joe gave instructions. 
They were both very relaxed, very professional. Jessica 
remembered Linda demonstrating the same kind of


intense interest observing transplanted silkworms munching 
transplanted mulberry leaves.
Cadzie was in a corner, sleeping. Jessica walked wide 
around his cradle. He didn't seem to slow Linda down 
very much, or else she never showed it. She only had to 
plan for him... but how did she learn?
The refining station was just below them, through the 
huge windows, but they spared it not a glance. They were 
studying its innards on two of the viewers. One was a 
demonstration view - Jessica had to watch for a minute 
before she understood - a cartoon of the station working 
normally.
The little mining drones churned up the soft coal and a 
conveyor belt moved it, a chunk at a time, up and over to 
the refinery. The prefabricated refinery processed the 
crumbly stuff, turning it into thick dark bricks of proto-
plastic, the fodder of their building and pharmaceuticals 
industry. Jessica recognized this sequence: it was a class-
room film.
The other showed the refinery setup dead and man-
gled. Track had lurched out of one of several tunnels, had 
lifted and twisted the casing of the refinery system. The 
damaged casing was smoke-blackened across that side. 
Damage inside could not be seen. Ore had piled high 
before the system's rudimentary intelligence had shut it 
down.
Joe said, 'I'll kiss the ass of the nerd who's good enough 
to be sending us that! and added as an afterthought, 
'Unless it's Edgar. '
A real bomb, Jessica thought. Low-yield explosive. 
Wrecked equipment had forced an expedition.
The eel, too, had forced an expedition to the main-
land. Interesting coincidence? Jessica shook her head. No 
one would do that.
'Touchdown in about nine minutes, ' Linda said.


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Jessica groped in her pocket, began pulling on tough, 
light gloves. 'I'm ready, eager and willing. '
'That's what all the boys say. ' Linda examined her big 
sister craftily. 'You'll probably cut out after an hour or 
so. '
'Ask Joe. '
Were Joe's ears turning pink? He said, 'Security check, 
Jess. Make sure the perimeters are secure, and none of the 
movement sensors have picked up anything. Then we can 
let the kids down. '
'And get them out of my hair. We've got work to do, ' 
Linda said.
Jessica scrunched her nose at Linda, and paused to say 
'goo' to little Cadzie. 'Pete Detrich, ' she said. 'You were 
dating him for a while last spring... '
Linda straightened her back proudly. 'I'm not telling, 
and that's that. '
'All right, all right... '
Jessica paused at the door, and then said back over her 
shoulder, 'Zack Moskowitz. '
'Hah! His moustache tickles. '
Without admitting defeat, Jessica affected a slouch as 
she left the room.
She climbed down a narrow spiral staircase into the 
cargo bay. It was vast and almost empty now, thrumming 
with engine vibration as they neared the ground. There 
were six great bay doors of moulded high-impact plastic. 
Four were open. She took a door next to Justin, who 
already had the cable attached to his belt-buckle cara-
biner.
'Race you!' he said merrily.
'What stakes?'
'You make pan biscuits tonight. '
'Fine - or you hunt up tubers. '
'You're on. '


She unlatched and flung her door open. The breeze ruffled 
her hair, cooled her face. They were fifteen metres above 
the low, bluish grass. Even from here it looked scraggly, 
surviving where the heavier brush had died for lack of 
moisture. She tied the line through her carabiner and 
braced it at her hip, right hand taking the high grip, and 
threw the rest of the line out over the side. Before it had 
completely unreeled she launched herself. She looked back 
up, shadowed by Robor's bulk, its Chinese-dragon facade 
dropping away from her toward the morning sky, and 
laughed.
She hadn't been the first out. That had been Aaron, as 
usual, his hours of mountain climbing serving him well. But 
Justin was coming down fast, and then Katya and Trish 
and Toshiro, the six of them like a small colony of spiders 
spiralling to earth. The ropes still dangled five metres above 
the ground when Aaron reached the bottom of his line. He 
paused a fatal instant, and she paused watching him, and 
Justin snapped free and dropped the rest of the way down, 
hitting and rolling like a paratrooper. He came back to his 
feet lightly, sporting a bruised face, a shoulder stained with 
dirt and a grin of evil triumph.
Jessica didn't jump. The five of them jumping in con-
cert could wobble Robor's descent.
When it finally came within reach, Justin grabbed his 
line and anchored it to one of the steel loops set into the 
ground. Katya was next down. She grunted, trying to get 
her cable into a ring. It wouldn't quite reach as a gust of 
wind took Robor sideways a couple of metres. Aaron 
grabbed the end of his line with his left hand and stretched 
out to grasp a steel ring with his right. His mouth gaped 
into an 'O' of strain, and she heard his shoulders creak. 
But will and muscle and a shift of wind brought the line 
close enough to the ring for him to attach the mooring 
clip, and from there on it was easy.


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Robor's undercarriage brushed the ground, and sec-
ondary lines tied it into place. As Justin walked past her, 
Jessica slapped him a casual high-five.
'Let's take a look at the processor, ' he said. She nodded.
The flat was four hundred metres across, rocky and 
mostly barren. Up a short incline was a second terrace. 
They scrambled up the lip of the rise and paused. Geodesic 
dome. A dozen metres away a corrugated shed housed 
the automated processor. Other than those, nothing for 
two hundred metres in either direction. Nothing... then a 
rise of mountain, crested with bushes with purple-green, 
roughly triangular leaves. The dirt beneath their feet was 
scarred, treadmarked where mini-tractors had carried 
their loads of plastic bricks back to Robor.
Ordinarily the mining equipment, sheltered beneath its 
dome of pipes, churned merrily away. But all was silent 
now.
Jessica turned and looked below her. Robor's dragon 
shape stirred in the wind, seeming almost to breathe. Its 
red and green stubby wings struggled to break from 
bondage. The lower cargo doors were opening, ramps 
descending. One of the mini-tractors was exiting 
smoothly.
Below Robor, and beyond, stretched Grendel Valley. 
Green, wild, twisted with vegetation. And through the 
very middle of it ran a river. The Styx. Death.
Higher up were plateaux where children of Earth could 
play. North and east she could see three mountain ranges. 
The furthest high peaks were lost in the mist. In winter 
even the lowest would be snow-crested, but today the air 
was warm and moist, the light and heat of Tau Ceti steady 
upon them.
Pterodons glided silkily through the peaks, more plen-
tiful here than on Camelot. On the island they ate fish, or 
darted into the isolated horsemane trees to snatch eggs


from a variety of Avalon crabs that lived in their tops. She 
could see other birdlike things - huge insects, perhaps, 
dragonflyish things that darted. At half a kilometre she 
couldn't make out details.
The air was heavy, moist and... well, green.
It smelled alive. It buzzed and hummed and crackled. 
The very sounds here were different, a low, heavy thrum 
of life. The area immediately surrounding the Styx was 
relatively clear, but back a kilometre or so the forest began 
in earnest, dense enough to satisfy any dreams of child-
hood discovery.
Joe Sikes trudged up the hill, Linda following with the 
tractor. Cadzie, stretching and looking about, bounced in a 
sling across her chest.
'What's the schedule?' Jessica asked Joe when he was 
close enough.
Joe was laughing. 'Chaka just went past me with a 
kind of a glass shell on his back. It must weigh a tonne. He 
looks like a giant turtle!'
'It's only the cook pot, Joe. '
'He could get something a lot lighter. Is he just showing 
off his muscles?'
She chuckled.
'Star Born secrets? Well, never mind, business first, ' he 
said. 'We want to take a good look at the processor. '
Now the Biters were streaming down the Robor's pas-
senger ramps. Twenty kids, the youngest just eleven, 
bright healthy kids on their first trip to the mainland.
'Stay close together, ' Jessica called down. 'Patrol lead-
ers check packs. ' She turned back to Joe. 'Justin will check 
and, if all's clear, we'll hike in and sleep at the oasis. '
'The usual communications arrangements?' Joe was 
smiling a little, even through his concern.
'Joe, you wound me. It's a sheer accident that those 
transmitters get switched off every time. '


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159
 


'Yeah, yeah. '
Justin was climbing up atop Robor, and had unhooked 
one of the three slave skeeters. He revved its engine, then 
whipped it up into the air and down toward the mining 
complex.
'We want to get down to Paradise, ' Jessica said, 'get 
things set up. If we're lucky, we can get a Run in tonight. 
You can handle things here?'
'Sure, ' Joe said. 'Straightforward diagnostic and repair. 
We've got the tools and some replacement parts. 
Everything we need to repair... The problem is: what the 
hell happened, and will it happen again?'


9 - Paradise
I have lived some thirty years on this planet, and I have yet to 
hear the first syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from 
my seniors.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden (1854)


'Fall in. Count off, ' Justin said.
The youngsters formed a line - oldest and largest to 
Justin's left, a stair-step down of heads off to the right 
until at the end was Sharon McAndrews, the youngest 
and certainly the shortest. Beyond Sharon, Jessica, Carey 
Lou and Heather McKennie formed a small group.
'One. Two. ' They counted down the line to Sharon, 
then the older scouts, finally Jessica.
'Remember your number, ' Justin said. 'Now let's do it 
again. Count off. OK. Remember your number, and 
remember who's on each side of you. OK, go and wander 
around. '
The kids scattered. Justin waited a moment, then blew a 
whistle. 'Count off!'
There was a moment's hesitation, then they began, 
'One. ' 'Two. '
Jessica finished the count. 'Twenty-six. '
'Right. We'll be doing that a lot, ' Justin said. 'Now the 
rules-'
'We don't need no stinking rules, ' Carey Lou giggled. 
'Rules are for Earth Born. '


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Justin saw that Joe Sikes was recording everything. 
'Not quite, ' he said. 'There are times when you need rules, 
and this is one of them. Now listen. '
'Groups of three. Never less than three, ' he said. 'One 
to break his leg, one to stay with him and one to go for 
help. Groups of three or more. OK? Good.
'The trail is marked: orange paint splotches on the 
rocks. If you see red splotches you're off-trail to the left 
side as we go out. Green is off-trail to the right side going 
out. Everyone got that?'
'Red right returning, ' one of the smaller ones said 
gravely.
'Right - uh, correct. And Jessica is Tail End Charlie. 
Nobody gets behind Jessica. No one. When I look back 
and see Jessica I want to be sure everyone is ahead of 
her. -
'When either Jessica or I call "Count off" you count 
off, right then, and nobody ever answers for anyone else. 
This isn't Camelot! There are grendels out there. '
Some of the Grendel Biters exchanged knowing looks.
'OK. ' Justin turned to Joe Sikes. 'Latest reports?'
'All clear to Paradise, ' Sikes said. He didn't sound 
happy. 'You're cleared to trek. Good luck. '
Thanks. OK, let's move out. '
Chaka lifted his pack - minimal gear, plus the glass 
cauldron that was big enough to serve them all - and 
swung it into place with a grunt. He hadn't done that a 
moment early. Joe Sikes shook his head and turned 
toward the minehead.
Justin unslung his rifle and checked the loads, then led 
off down the side of the pass, down north and eastward 
toward the green valley and the grendels. There wasn't 
any danger up this high. Everything they knew about 
grendels said they couldn't go far from water. Still, he 
looked everywhere, ahead, to the sides. It was his fourth


trip, his third as leader, and every time there was that 
feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The first time Justin had come down this trail, his father 
had been leader and Joe Sikes had been Tail End Charlie. 
There had been a big fight in the council, with Zack 
adamant that no children would go to the mainland.
'Think again, Zack, ' Cadmann had said. 'You have to 
let go sometime. '
'No. '
'Speak for yourself, Zack. You can give orders down 
here, but my family hasn't been part of your jurisdiction 
since a year after we came here. '
'That's not fair. '
'Which way did you mean that?' Sylvia demanded. 
There'd been a buzz of conversation and whispers as 
everyone remembered those times. Cadmann had pre-
dicted danger. No one had believed him. No one believed 
there were any dangers on the island at all. They were all 
sure it was pranks - or something worse, an old military 
man's desperate efforts to be needed. Until the first grendel 
attack. Then Colonel Weyland had taken his share of tools 
and equipment and gone up to build the Stronghold. And, if 
he hadn't done that, when the samlon changed, the grendels 
would have killed everyone on the planet. No one liked to 
think about that, not then and not now. And now Zack kept 
seeing dangers.
The trail was dry and dusty, which made Justin feel better. 
Grendels didn't like dry and dusty. After fifteen minutes 
he stopped. The two youngsters who'd been trying to keep 
up with him gratefully leaned against boulders. Behind 
him the Grendel Biters were strung out along the steeply 
rising trail. No sign of Jessica, but the trail threaded 
among boulders. 'Count off!'


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'One. ' 'Two. ' The count moved back along the trail 
until he couldn't hear any longer. There was a pause, then 
more shouts passed back up the trail. 'All present. '
He took a moment to raise his binoculars. They hadn't 
had good binoculars the first time, just the increasingly 
rare and valuable war specs. Those had come all the way 
from Earth. Once there had been fifty pairs of the com-
puter-enhanced optical systems. Now only eight remained.
But a year ago they'd been able to schedule the time for 
Cassandra to build optical-grinding equipment, and now 
they had binoculars in a variety of strengths and fields. 
These were 10 x 60, really too heavy for backpacking, but 
he could see a long way, and they worked well into twi-
light.
War specs were Cassandra's eyes. The First could see 
through those; but they couldn't see through Justin's 
binoculars.
He scanned the area below. Far down in the valley 
something moved among the grass at the river's edge. 
Almost certainly a grendel. Not much else lived that close 
to a river. But sometimes - sometimes there were large 
things that didn't look much like grendels. They never 
stayed still or visible long. What were they? Another kind 
of grendel? Nobody knew, and that ate at Justin.
This was their planet but all they really knew was that 
anywhere there was water there were grendels. All kinds of 
grendels. Some made dams, some hunted further from the 
river. Some lived in shallow mud, some couldn't live 
without submerging themselves in river water.., but if 
there was water, there were grendels.
The river was low. The lakes formed by grendel dams 
were not much more than ponds, and where there had 
been grassland and bushes last year there was now nothing 
but caked mud with vast cracks, and above that dry rock 
and horsemane trees. Grendels couldn't live in the


rocky ground above the river, but Justin scanned the rocks 
and sand ahead anyway. Nothing there but swirls of dust 
kicked up by the rising wind behind him. On Earth there 
would have been snakes. He'd seen them in films. Avalon 
didn't seem to have evolved the snake, and so far they 
hadn't encountered anything particularly venomous, at 
least not to humans.
'Watch your feet, ' Chaka sang out. He was rolling 
along like a juggernaut, ignoring the way the ground rose. 
'Justin, Carlos will want that shell if you've got room. '
Now Justin saw it too, an empty shell with a golden 
iridescence, curled and fluted, lying in the mud like a 
dinner plate lost from the Sun King's palace. Centrepiece 
Crabs were big enough to catch Joeys, the largest things 
that lived in these dusty areas. Their jaws held crud and 
corruption but they weren't dangerous to anyone with 
boots on. Carlos made wonderful things from their 
shells.
'Maybe coming back, ' Justin said. His pack would be 
lighter and roomier too.
'OK. Kids, pass the word back, it's on your left and 
don't miss it. The Centrepiece Crab evolves those shells as a 
mating display. He wouldn't do that if he had to see to his 
defences. You see an animal get that gaudy, or a bird, you 
know it's because he's been threat-free for a long time. '
Carrying that mucking great pot, why wasn't Chaka 
puffing? Nobody else could do that, barring Aaron.
Behind Justin, Katya Martinez had her binoculars out. 
'Ha. '
'"Ha"?'
'Joeys. Off trail to the left, about three hundred metres 
ahead. '
'Ah. Good. If there're Joeys, there aren't grendels. OK, 
kids, let's go. ' Justin led them onward across the dry rocky


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ground. The air seemed even dryer than usual, a hot wind 
blowing through the pass from behind them.
'Devil wind, ' Katya said.
'Devil, you say?'
'They called it a Santa Ana back in California. Air-
mass flows down a mountain range, you get a Foehn 
wind. Sirocco in Europe. Hot, dry compressive heating, 
lots of positive ions. Makes people nervous. You feel it, 
don't you?'
'Guess so. You read much about it?'
'Some. '
'Anything I ought to know?'
'Do you think I wouldn't tell you? Hah. See, it's getting 
to me, too. '
The trail led down and north along one of the mountain 
ridges framing Deadwood Pass. Twelve kilometres from 
the pass there was a saddle. Their dusty route led to the 
right, then steeply uphill. Dimly above they could see 
green trees, bushes, tall but straggly grass. Justin called a 
halt.
'Fall in. Count off. ' He waited for the responses. 'OK, 
listen up. ' He pointed up the hill. 'That's where we're 
going. Chaka, Katya and I'll go up first. The rest of you 
follow along, but stay together. Jessica will tell you when 
it's safe to come up. ' He unslung his rifle and again 
checked the loads, then waited until Little Chaka and 
Katya had done the same. He carried the rifle at the ready 
as he led them up the hill.
'Are there grendels up there?' Sharon McAndrews 
asked solemnly.
'Not there, " one of the older Grendel Biters answered. 
There were snickers.
'Never been any so far, ' Justin said. 'Not so far. '
Eight years before, he'd followed Cadmann up that


trail. Aerial surveys showed there wasn't anything large up 
there, and Geographies IR sensors had never seen any-
thing. 'So what are we worried about, sir?' he'd asked.
'Caves. The second grendel lived in a river cave, ' 
Cadmann had said, limping along on a stick (carved by 
Carlos) and a skinny new regrown leg. 'We went in after 
it. Stupid of us - we didn't know what grendels were. ' 
They'd gone up slowly, while two armed skeeters flitted 
about watchfully. 'We lost good men hunting that grendel. 
'
'Looks quiet. ' Chaka's words brought Justin out of his 
reverie.
Paradise was a garden mount in a desert of dusty vol-
canic rock. It thrust upward from the side of the mountain 
range, a rocky slope that rose steeply for nearly six hun-
dred metres. The gentle bowl at the top was a hundred-
and-fifty-metre circle no more than fifteen metres deep at 
the centre. Some trick of nature had placed a spring at one 
lip of the dish. Water gushed up and ran down into the 
dish. At the bottom the water vanished into the ground, 
never to reappear. Paradise was a high oasis with no 
streams leading in or out. -"
They circled the mound until they came up over the lip 
on the side opposite the spring. Vegetation was sparse 
here, but most of the bowl was covered with grasses and 
horsemane trees. Insects flitted among the plants. One 
flew closer to have a look at them. It was smaller than a 
humming-bird, but larger than the insects of Earth. There 
were two large wings as rigid as those on an aeroplane, 
and a blur beneath it from its motor wings. It hovered 
near and didn't seem afraid of them at all. After a while it 
lost interest and flew back down into the bowl.
At the bottom of the dish was a tree that seemed cov-
ered with webbing. Something moved in there.
Justin scanned the bowl, first unaided, then with his


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binoculars. Finally he opened his communicator. 'We're 
here. I see nothing unusual, ' he said.
'Roger. Geographic reports nothing unusual, ' Joe Sikes 
said. 'You're cleared to take the kids in. Only this time try 
to keep the radios working. '
'Sure thing. ' Justin flicked the channel switch. 'Bring 
them up, Jessica. All clear. '
Dusk.
'It's getting late, ' Jessica said. 'You sure you want to do 
this?'
'Part of the job, ' Justin said. 'And it won't get any ear-
lier. Chaka? Coming?'
'Sure. '
'Me too, ' Katya said.
'I think I should go, ' Jessica said.
'Nope. Someone's got to be in charge here, and that's 
you. Let's do it. ' Justin looked over his rifle. 'Check your 
loads. Right. Here we go. '
He led the way out of the bowl, over the lip, and down 
toward the river far below.
Jessica stood at the rim and watched them until they were 
out of sight among the volcanic rocks. 'I've got a bad feeling 
about this, ' she told herself, but she grinned, because she'd 
had the same feeling last year, and the year before, and it 
hadn't meant anything. Mostly I just want to go with 
them...
She went back to the kids. They were sprawled on the 
grass. Youngsters that age can be energetic blurs one 
moment, motionless heaps the next. Another talent lost 
with age...
Two of them had discovered the insect life in the grass. 
Jessica bent down next to them and peered between the


yellowish-purple blades. Something that looked like a red-
orange beetle was caught in a sticky webbing, and 
thousands of blue mites, so small they resembled a powder, 
were swarming over him. They stripped the beetle and 
carried the parts away into the rocks.
The mites disappeared, leaving only an empty blue shell 
dangling from a transparent web.
Damn, that was fast, she thought. Insects on speed?
She shook her head. 'All right!' she called. 'Campsite is 
down in the bowl. Let's get to it - we've got a lot of set-up 
to do before dusk. '
She hauled the kids up, complaining, and set them on 
their way, and followed after them. But she still couldn't 
quite get the memory of those mites out of her mind. If a 
Biter laid his sleeping bag in a nest of those...
Blankets and sleeping bags, tents and cook stoves were 
produced, assembled, spread about. The entire camp 
sprang into existence like magic, a bubbling, steaming, 
jostling cacophony filled with busy-bodies and giggling 
children, Grendel Scouts scurrying about on secretive mis-
sions and Grendel Biters channelled into busywork and 
told to mind their own business.
Carey Lou shucked off his backpack and looked about 
for a place to call home. He wandered a little away from 
the main camp, toward the familiar shape of a horsemane 
tree.
The frozen-waterfall appearance entranced him. He 
had spent many nights back on Camelot in the shaded 
comfort of the local trees, and had stolen his first kiss in 
their shadow. He shucked off his backpack, perhaps nur-
turing romantic thoughts, and stepped toward the tree.
Jessica grabbed his shoulders, and marched him 
around. 'No. Bad idea. '
'Why?'


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She brushed some of the hanging fronds aside. Take a 
closer look, ' she said sternly.
He looked, and gulped. This wasn't at all like the 
friendly, sleepy trees on the island. From the root to as far 
up the trunk as they could see, and even in the strands of 
the mane itself, the entire tree was infested with symbiotes, 
parasites, things.
Near the base, the greenish-brown mane had turned 
milky and taken on the appearance of a coarse spider-
web. Something was fluttering in one of those nearby. 
Maybe prey, maybe predator, maybe spider. Carey Lou 
didn't get close. He gulped again. 'Maybe that one over 
there?'
'These things are notoriously hospitable to local life. 
Give it a try, ' she said.
Carey Lou walked cautiously to a second tree. He 
looked closely: no symbiotes. Relieved but still cautious, 
he pulled out his rolled tent. His thin arms snapped the 
roll outward and it unfurled into a triangle, then popped 
open further: a disc, then an open dome.
Four startled Avalon birds dropped out of the horse-
mane tree like so many dinner platters. They caught 
themselves, and wheeled around the tent as it settled to the 
grass like a big balloon. Two brushed wings, whirled to 
fight. One knocked the other spinning. It dropped toward a 
tree a dozen metres further out; recovered too late. The tree 
had it.
Carey Lou stepped close, but not too close. Jessica was 
behind him, fingers resting on his shoulders. The bird: she 
could see details, now that it was trapped. Two big rigid 
wings, curved up at the tips into spiffy little vertical fins. 
Four little translucent oar blades, the motor wings, were 
still trying to thrash the bird loose.
The creature's relationship to a sea crab was very clear. 
The rigid wings had been a bifurcated shell, long ago.


That early crab hadn't been so specialized as today's 
crabs.
Jessica stepped forward, reached gingerly into the web. 
She was ready for something like a big spider. If anything 
had scuttled toward her hands she would have jerked 
back. Nothing did, and she pulled the bird loose, holding it 
by one wing. The motor wings buzzed, trying to pull it 
away. She held on until she had brushed webbing from the 
fixed wings. It was too rigid to bite her, but it shivered 
hard in her hand, trying to twist around to escape.
'I've seen these before, ' she said. 'Have you? Where 
have you seen something like this?'
She waited expectantly.
Carey Lou studied it, knowing that she wanted him to 
get it right. His eyes suddenly opened wide. 'Sea crabs!' he 
exclaimed.
'Right... go on. '
'Split shell. You know, the wings are more like a bee-
tle's than a bird's. '
Jessica released the bird. It hovered for a moment. The 
four blurred motor wings were splayed like legs on a coffee 
table. Then they tilted aft and it zipped away. She said, 
'Very good. The grendels don't like salt water much - so 
there was a lot more variety in the lifeforms just off the 
coast. All those crab things. Strange how often the pattern 
has repeated itself on the land, isn't it? We've seen leaf-
cutting bee things like little crabs, and birds like crabs... '
'And crabs like crabs... '
She laughed. 'Anyway - our lesson for the night - camp 
only in the open, and back with everyone else. Now 
scoot. ' She swatted his behind, sending him back toward 
the others.
She waited there in the clearing for a moment, smelling 
the forest. This was good. There was nothing around here


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that could hurt someone Carey Lou's size... but it wasn't a 
bad idea to put the fear of God in him. A little healthy fear 
could keep you alive.
One of Old Grendel's daughters held the river hereabouts. 
Old Grendel moved up a tributary. Why fight her own 
blood, when far more interesting prey were about? She 
had a score of crabs trapped here. They hadn't tried to 
crawl past her; they were crawling upstream, and Old 
Grendel followed at her leisure.
She was following the weirds.
Far above her, the daughters of God had settled out of 
sight. They had come from the drylands, a place Old 
Grendel never expected to see close up, but now they had 
landed much closer. Those flattish shapes with their 
blurred wings reminded her of the near-universal shape of 
the Avalon crabs. But the huge grinning Grendel God was 
of a different shape entirely. Perhaps the 'daughters' were 
parasites.
And the little ones, could they be parasites on the par-
asites?
She could see three, four of the little ones at the edge of 
the cliff, looking about them, then withdrawing one by 
one. Now others moved downslope, slowly, clumsily. 
Would they come to her?
No, they were gone before they reached anywhere close to 
her. Old Grendel observed patiently. The sky was darkening 
before she saw them again. Five, six weirds moving back up 
the rocky slope.
Old Grendel believed she could reach them.
She could see the tip of a tree up there. Likely there was 
water.
She would have to drink until she could barely move. If 
her daughter caught her then, she would die. With a belly


like a drum, she would have to crawl three kilometres 
without ever going on speed. At the top she would have 
used up every erg of energy; she would be dry as an old 
bone.
If there was no water, she would die.
If anything attacked her, she would die.
Watch them move, slow and clumsy, easy prey. It was 
like watching hunter-climbers. Old Grendel flashed under-
water and crunched down on a bite-sized crab. She would 
see where else the weirds led her.
At supper time there were baked potatoes and Cajun-style 
greens and a Grendel Scout favourite, a rolled biscuit-
bread baked in the campfire.
And as they settled down to enjoy the feast, the kids 
were treated to another speciality.
With great ceremony, Aaron and Chaka tramped back 
in from the shadows, carrying a steaming cauldron 
between them. 'This, ' Chaka announced, 'is the speciality 
of the house. This is the real reason that we like to come 
over here. There's never enough of it to take back to the 
island. ' He paused, and then said with a smile: 'There 
really isn't enough for you guys, either, but if there's any 
left, you can divvy it up. '
The kids looked suspicious, but when the older Scouts 
didn't even invite them to eat and promptly served them-
selves, Carey Lou shouldered his way over, poked a spoon in 
and tasted.
He pronounced it delicious, and they dove in.
It was like a thick jambalaya, served over crumbled 
biscuit. Delicious. It was filled with things that chewed 
like mussel and tasted like clams or fish. Several times 
someone asked what it was composed of, and received 
only an evasive smile in return.


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'Secret recipe, ' Aaron said, and everyone broke up 
laughing.
There was only a tiny helping for each of the kids, 
enough to whet their appetite for burgers. 'Mainland 
Stew', they were told, was for full Scouts only.
After a little wait, Jessica inquired innocently, 'Who'd 
like some for lunch tomorrow?'
All hands went up.
'Well, ' she said. 'I guess we have to respect the public 
demand, now, don't we?'
Carey Lou belched with satisfaction. 'So tonight, ' he said. 
'Tonight we get to find out more about grendels?'
'Tonight, ' Aaron said.
Heather McKennie leaned forward, her dark eyes 
intense. 'They were like a feeding frenzy coming after our 
parents, huh? Like sharks on Earth?'
One of the other kids chimed in: 'Or like piranha! I saw 
that James Bond movie, and they ate that woman right up. '
'Blood-crazed monsters... '
Justin laughed. 'I read up on piranhas. It wasn't really 
blood that triggered them. There was this guy who went 
down to the Amazon. Zoologist named Bellamy. Went 
down there and studied the little bastards. '
'Why?' Aaron asked curiously.
'Well, their behaviour didn't make sense to him. The 
stupid little buggers rip each other to pieces. Dinnertime 
isn't a friendly affair at all. '
'Ghastly business. ' Katya's 'upper class' English accent 
was atrocious. 'Not a black-tie occasion?'
'They'd eat the tie too. Now, our zoologist began won-
dering: what's in it for the fish?'
He dropped his voice. 'So they went to the village 
where it happens. Where the natives throw pigs into the 
water for the entertainment of the tourists. And they'd


throw one of these terrified creatures in the water, and it 
would thrash - and the water would churn with blood. 
Piranhas ripped it to ribbons in a couple of minutes. Just 
like in the movies. '
Justin was getting into it now. 'And he wondered: Was it 
the blood? Was it? And he took a bloody knife, and 
slipped it into the water... '
They held their assembled breath.
'And nothing happened. Nothing. And then... he 
slipped his foot into the water. '
'Jesus. What happened?'
'Nothing. And then he slipped his hand into the 
water-'
'Christ! Did he stick his dick in the water too?'
'I have no idea, ' Justin said haughtily. 'I did hear that 
he later requested an audition with the Vienna Boys' 
Choir, but that was likely a coincidence. ' He gave the 
speaker a nasty look.
'At any rate - then he slapped the water with an oar, 
and they went crazy. ' He leaned back. 'It was the splash 
that did it, all along. Drives 'em nuts. '
Aaron nodded slowly, thoughtfully. 'I bet you have 
trees overhanging. Monkeys or something fall in occa-
sionally... '
'Yeah. Instant piranha chow. '
'Well, but there aren't many trees that overhang the 
water, and monkeys aren't that stupid, ' Chaka said. 'Not 
enough critters fall in the water, certainly not enough to 
affect the evolution of the fish. '
'So why?' Aaron asked. 'What is in it for the fish?'
'Absolutely nothing, ' Chaka said. 'It's extra behaviour. '
'Extra?'
'Extra. Extraneous. Useless. Something that got geneti-
cally coded with a real survival characteristic. Happens all 
the time. '


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'We haven't found anything like that here, ' Justin said.
'How do you know? We haven't had the chance to 
look, ' Katya said. 'Not over here. We understand 
Camelot, but really the grendels didn't leave much to 
understand. Here there's a real ecology, but they won't let 
us come look at it. '
'They, ' Heather said solemnly. The First. '
'They're just trying to take care of us, ' Sharon 
McAndrews said. 'Aren't they?'
'Jailers take care of their charges, too, ' Aaron said. 
'You can't be a prison warder without a prisoner-'
Sharon McAndrews frowned. 'You told us that you 
would tell us some things. About our parents. ' The other 
kids echoed her enthusiastically, but she sounded a little 
nervous.
Justin, Jessica and Aaron looked at each other. 'Not 
tonight, ' Aaron said softly. 'Tomorrow night. But not 
tonight. '
'Why then? Why not now?'
'Because-' Justin began.
'You sound like a First, ' Heather said.
'Maybe I do. But we do have reasons, ' Justin said. 
'There are things you have to learn first. You'll know 
before we leave here. '
'Is that a promise?' Sharon McAndrews sounded 
younger than her eleven years.
'Sure, it's a promise, ' Aaron said.
They sipped their coffee, and watched each other without 
speaking. Unspoken was the thought: First, Carey Lou 
has an appointment. He won the lottery.
Carey Lou had been asleep for no more than an hour 
when they came for him. They said nothing. Blindfolded 
him and tied his hands behind his back. Thrust a rope


between his teeth. Someone spoke, in a voice too gruff for 
recognition. 'Hold onto this and follow us. If you drop it, 
we leave you for the grendels. '
Thank God they slipped shoes onto his feet before leading 
him away from the camp, out into the woods.
He had no idea how long he walked, or what time it 
was.
He lost track of the distance. He could see nothing, 
but felt every slap of brush, heard every night sound. He 
kept telling himself that this was calculated. This was all 
planned. They wouldn't really leave him for the gren-
dels...
Still, his teeth bore down on that centimetre-thick hemp 
until he was certain that it would break off in his mouth.
'Shh, ' Justin whispered. He adjusted his night glasses, 
binoculars with big lenses to gather as much light as pos-
sible, and focused in. Fourteen-year-old Carey Lou was 
about twenty-five metres from the edge of the water, and 
looked ready to soil himself. The boy stared back at them 
beseechingly. His hands were strangling the grendel gun. 
He knew that somewhere back in those shadows was 
Heather McKennie, she of the cut-off jeans, freckles, 
tanned hide and raunchy sense of humour. Heather, a 
whole enormous two years older than Carey. Heather 
would be his prize...
If he survived the night.
'Carey... ' She called from somewhere in the darkness, 
beyond the torches.
'Oh, sleet, ' he said, and took another step closer to the 
water. Twenty-three metres now.
Justin's rifle scope gave him a good angle on the pond. 
Aaron would be fifteen metres to the north, similarly 
equipped. Little Chaka was further south. All wore the 
modified infrared scopes. They would have barely a second


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to act, but that would be enough. Reacting to grendel flare 
was something Avalonians learned almost before they 
could walk.
Carey took another step closer to the water.
Burbling just beyond him was a spot already identified 
as a grendel hole. That meant a mama, and a flock of 
young 'uns in the larval stage of grendel development. 
Samlon. They knew that upon maturation mama would 
drive the samlon out. In lean times she would eat the larvae 
themselves. On the island of Camelot, an entire ecology 
had developed - samlon eating algae, mamas eating 
samlon. They also knew that under ordinary 
circumstances, mama grendels would eat anything rather 
than their own young.
They would certainly eat tender fourteen-year-old 
colonists.
Jessica's voice wafted from somewhere in the bushes. 
'Just a little closer, Carey... '
Carey, stark naked, terribly alone, looked back into 
the bush. He would be blinded by the torches, unable to 
see anything.
Justin remembered his first grendel hunt. He hadn't 
been alone, but there hadn't been a backup team behind 
him either. He'd waded into the water, going slowly, feeling 
stark terror, but more too. Carey would be feeling that 
now.
Stark terror. Anger. Fear. And excitement, because if 
the grendel came and he survived, he would be a man.
Naked except for the grendel gun, shivering with the 
cold, Carey took another step toward the "Water-
And then the waters parted. Something glided from the 
depths. A black destroyer. A fanged shadow. A thing of 
terror and appetite, made flesh. It blinked slowly, placidly at 
the naked creature trembling before it, and took a lazy 
step.


Carey shifted his rifle at the first disturbance. The kid 
was quick. Skinny, but quick. Justin was already sighting-
Carey screamed, aimed and fired. The grendel gun 
bucked, and a splash of Day-glo orange splayed across the 
grendel's snout. The grendel blurred, flying toward Carey at 
heart-stopping speed. Carey fired again, and shouted. 'Oh, 
sleet!'
Another long second, and the marrow had to be freezing 
in his veins. Perhaps the first bitter words of 
condemnation and a forlorn prayer were beginning to 
form on his lips.
Then fire flared in the darkness behind the torches. 
Three shots almost as one. A quarter-second later, a 
fourth shot. Then the grendel was hit six, seven, eight 
times, slammed by heavy-calibre slugs that fried its ner-
vous system, turned its assault into a leaping spasm, 
splashing toward the paralysed Carey, who seemed to be 
watching the entire tableau in slow motion.
He staggered to the left as the grendel thundered to 
earth. It was on its side, its anticipated prey forgotten 
now. Alive, but in an awful agony as its own speed sacs 
overloaded. A quarter of a tonne of amphibian death 
clawed at the ground, screaming, chasing its own tail in 
diminished circles, tearing up earth and rock and grass 
there in the half-circle of the firelight, its dying hiss burning 
their ears...
Steam rose from its body. Its claws and tail trembled, 
twitched, and at last were still.
Carey turned back to look at them as they emerged 
from the shadows. Jessica hung back, her motion sensors 
wary for additional predators. They were pretty certain 
about this - only one mama per hole. But grendels had 
surprised them before.
Not this time, but it had happened.
'You... bastards, ' Carey said. Panting, he flung his


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rifle down on the ground. Pitiful in his nakedness, he had 
clearly wet himself but was unconscious of it.
'You incredible bastards. ' He took another breath, and 
held it. This was a critical moment. He looked back at the 
grendel. Justin remembered the first time they had done 
this, and what the kid had said afterward. There had been 
no one to do this for him - he was one of the eldest Star 
Born, and no Earth Born even dreamed that something 
like the Run was going on. None of the Earth Born would 
do something so risky... and so much fun.
But he knew that Carey was looking at them. And the 
rifles, and then at the grendel. And remembering the 
incredibly short pause before the grendel was blown back 
into the water. Less than a second. Time enough to lose 
control of his bladder. Time enough to feel more naked 
and defenceless than he had ever imagined a human being 
could feel. Time enough to experience the incredible pre-
cision required by a kill team.
Carey looked at them and swallowed. He knew, some-
how, that his entire reputation for machismo rested upon 
what he said next.
'Well... ' He strained to sound casual. He bent, picked 
"up his rifle. He walked toward them until he was standing 
half a metre from Justin. He extended his rifle with his left 
hand. Justin extended his own right to take it - and Carey hit 
him, quite hard and very quickly, with his right fist, just 
under the left ear.
Justin stumbled back, tripped and went down.
Finally Carey smiled. 'That was... pretty fair shooting. ' 
He watched Justin carefully.
Justin pushed himself up to a sitting position. He felt 
his jaw tenderly. 'Got a pretty good right there, kid. ' And 
held up his hand.
Carey took it and yanked him up, then stood with his 
legs slightly apart, well balanced. His lopsided grin was


challenging. 'Hendrick's a good coach, ' he said. Justin 
nodded. No action. A great sigh seemed to go through 
them all, a release of tension.
'You'd have got him, you know, ' Justin said. 'It was a 
good hit. '
'Why the hell do you do that?' Carey asked.
'It's fun, ' Aaron said.
Justin frowned. 'We had a kid panic once. Nobody got 
shot, but it was close. '
'Why paint? Cassandra would know if I hit - oh. '
'Heh. Cassandra doesn't know about this. Jesus, can you 
imagine what Zack would do?'
They all laughed.
'So who panicked?'
Justin looked at him and shook his head.
'Edgar, ' Aaron said.
Carey smiled knowingly.
'Got the grendel, though, ' Justin said.
Carey coughed politely. 'Who's got my clothes? My 
nuts are freezing. '
Heather sashayed out of the dark. 'Here's a blanket, ' she 
said sweetly. The blanket was wrapped around her. When 
she opened it, there was nothing underneath but Heather.
Carey swallowed hard. It wasn't certain, but the good 
bet was that Carey was still a virgin. Well, this evening 
would see the end of that onerous burden.
Heather wrapped the blanket around the both of them, 
and Carey became very, very involved in a kiss. Amid the 
general cheering, the two of them retreated from the fire-
light.
Aaron grinned. 'Today I am a man, ' he said.
'Indeed. Now, Jessica - any other ghoulies about?'
'No grendel-sized heat sources. Let's harvest some samlon. 
'


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By the time they got back to Heorot, Tau Ceti was rising 
over the mountains.
Mercifully, the day was set for lazing and play. Carey 
Lou managed to stagger to his tent and collapse. Or, at 
least, they assumed that he was collapsing. Heather was 
with him, and, the more Justin thought about it, the more 
he was convinced that a fourteen-year-old libido might be 
impervious to fatigue, fear and a thorough workout by the 
(rumour had it) inexhaustible Miss McKennie.
Ah, youth.
The day passed quickly: samples gathered and cata-
logued, lessons on wildlife and herbology taught by the 
older Scouts, and a considerable amount of skinny dip-
ping, impromptu tree-climbing competitions, and general 
hell-raising.
When evening finally fell again, there was a pleasant air 
of fatigue settling over the camp. They had shared two 
extremely alive days. Carey had also learned that three 
other Biters had suffered as he had. He was a member of a 
fraternity now, and he was already relishing the thought of 
passing that favour to one of the younger kids in a few 
years. Say, his younger brother Patrick...
The cook fires were burning, and soon dinner would be 
prepared. But there was another question still on the Biters' 
minds, and they had pestered their elders all day long.
Finally, Aaron sat them down, not a shred of playful-
ness in his attitude.
'All right, ' he said. 'There's something serious we need 
to talk about tonight. Tonight it's time that you learned 
things. '
'About our parents?' Sharon asked.
'Things about your parents. And grandparents. There 
are reasons why they didn't come over here. Why we're 
the ones. '


'Why?'
Justin and Jessica looked at each other nervously, then 
Justin said: 'When you freeze something that has water in 
it, you get ice crystals. They thought that they had 
whipped the problem, but something went wrong. They 
froze the crew of Geographic. They woke them up in 
shifts for various duties around the ship, crossing from Sol to 
Tau Ceti. And there were problems. '
'Problems?' Carey asked.
'Yes. When you freeze people for a hundred years and 
then wake them up, chances are you've formed some ice 
crystals in their brains. Wake them twice, you get more 
crystals. Crystals rupture cells, mess it up in' - he tapped 
his skull - 'here. '
'What did it do?'
'A lot of our parents aren't as smart as they used to be. 
They get emotional problems, too. Coordination. Early 
strokes. Just plain stupidity. At first it didn't really matter. 
They were still smarter than most people they'd known, 
and they'd chosen the island because it was safe. No prob-
lems to face, nothing they couldn't deal with. Even then, 
they got in the habit of talking things over, being sure 
they weren't doing something stupid-'
'Rules, ' Sharon McAndrews said.
'Rules, ' Justin agreed. 'And that was good enough for a 
while. There weren't any real dangers here, none that they 
knew about, anyway. Then the first grendels came. They 
didn't understand. They had rules and they stuck to the 
rules and it didn't work, but Colonel Weyland helped 
them and they defeated the first grendels. They went hunting 
and, when they thought they had killed all the grendels, 
they hadn't. You know about that. What you don't know 
is how bad it shook them. After the Grendel Wars they 
stopped trusting themselves and they stopped trusting 
each other. They didn't work well together when


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the grendels popped up, and that's one of the reasons that 
our parents are so afraid of them now. '
There was silence. Justin could see it: they were trying 
to find a lie in the story. But there were too many clues. 
They knew, they had always known. There was some-
thing wrong with mom, with dad. With uncle. They had 
always known, but had never had a label.
Now they did.
'Ice on his mind, ' Carey Lou said. 'I've heard that, but 
nobody would tell me what it meant-'
'And my mother slapped me when I said it to her, ' 
Sharon said.
'Christ, ' Carey Lou said. 'What can we do?'
'Love them, ' Jessica said. 'They're doing the best they 
can. That's what we expect of you. Just love them, but do 
your own thinking. Including about their rules. That's why 
they make rules. They don't trust their own thoughts, not 
when they act alone. So they try to get a collective 
judgement on everything that can happen, and make that a 
rule, and then they follow the rules no matter what. '
'Ice on their minds, ' Carey Lou said again, slowly. 'Son 
of a bitch!'
Aaron and Trish carried a pole across their shoulders, with 
a dozen netted samlon suspended from it. They were 
singing some kind of hunting song or working song... 
High ho, High ho, it's off to hunt I go... making up 
verses as they approached the campfire.
Water was already simmering and bubbling in the glass 
cauldron. Potatoes and onions had been brought over 
from Camelot, but there was more: mainland bulbs and 
leaves known to be edible and tasty. Some of the brighter 
Scouts noticed how flashlights had been focused into the 
cauldron, so the vegetables could be seen dancing around 
in the roiling water.


There was an air of excitement, and someone oohed as 
Justin produced a wicked-looking knife and sliced the 
heads off the samlon.
'Look in their eyes, ' he said. 'But for us, they would 
have been grendels one day, and hunted us. We killed 
them first. What eats grendels?' he asked. 'We eat gren-
dels. '
They were as tense as an audience awaiting a magic 
trick. Justin figured that that was pretty close to accurate.
His blood-smeared hands gathered the beheaded samlon 
and carried them to the pot, dropping them into the 
water.
The water foamed with blood.
'Watch, ' Justin said, 'watch and see... '
Those first few trips, the Scouts had been crawling all 
over each other to watch and see, to look down into an 
inadequate aluminium pot. Once Ansel Stevens fell in and 
scalded his whole arm. Once there was a full riot. The 
pots kept getting bigger, but the Scouts still missed most of 
the action, until Chaka got big enough to carry this mucking 
great glass cauldron. And now everyone could see it all.
The ten litres of water in the pot churned. The samlon 
sank, and then roiled up to the surface again, in a curious 
and disquieting imitation of life.
Something was happening. The flesh of the samlon 
split, and wormlike things boiled out. Scores of them. 
Hundreds. Pale, fleshy things churning and dying in the 
boiling water, turning the clear bubbling broth into a kind 
of thick gumbo... or jambalaya.
The Biters pulled back, choking. There rose from the 
red kettle a stench of blood.
And in a disturbing way... it was a good smell. Like 
last night's savoury aroma, only stronger.
Justin and Aaron and Katya and Jessica and the other


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Seconds watched ghoulishly. The children stared at the 
kettle, sniffed at it. One of them fled to the entrance of the 
cave and vomited.
In half an hour the brew was done, and ladled into 
bowls. It was an evil-looking mess, filled with fragments 
of samlon heads and the gutted carcases now torn into 
chunks by Katya's bloody knife. The dead worms and 
corkscrew things were bloated pinkly in death. There were 
little transparent crabs no bigger than a Biter's fingernail. 
The base stock was as crimson as tomato soup. It looked 
filled with insects.
Aaron held the bowl to his lips. The Biters watched 
him, horribly fascinated.
'Mmm. ' He raised the spoon to his lips. He blew on it. 
Something thick and wormy flopped over the edge of the 
broad spoon. He slurped it up as if it were vermicelli, 
making a smacking sound. 'Delicious. '
'Dinner, ' Jessica said, 'is served. '


10 - The First Church of the Grendel
In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust; let me never be 
ashamed: deliver me in thy righteousness.
Bow down thine ear to me; deliver me speedily: be 
thou my strong rock, for an house of defence to save 
me.
For thou are my rock and my fortress; therefore for 
thy name's sake lead me, and guide me.
Pull me out of the net that they have laid privily for 
me: for thou art my strength.
Into thine hand I commit my spirit: thou hast 
redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.
Psalms 31: 1


Jessica rose only when she was absolutely certain that the 
others were asleep. On tiptoes, she crept out of the cave. 
The soft purring snores of sleeping children surrounded 
her. She felt a delicious synthesis of maternal concern and 
utter wickedness.
Aaron waited just outside the cave, and held a finger to 
his lips. 'Shh. '
Jessica nodded, understanding the need for secrecy. 
This wasn't for Justin. Not any more - he had made his 
choice, and Jessica had made hers. Her heart thudded in 
her chest as she followed Aaron down the path. They 
passed a tree, and it wasn't until they were past that she 
realized that it wasn't just a shadow, but Trish, dark as the 
night. Another Bottle Baby.
Trish joined them as they moved silently down the trail.


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buffering agents, and now the entire experience was, at 
least physically, much milder.
The psychoactive alkaloids were kicking in now. 
External sounds were fading. Not that they weren't there 
or that she had gone deaf, but her focus of attention was so 
tight now, so utterly complete that it was as if she was 
staring down a long, long tunnel. There at the far end 
was the simmering kettle and the fire. And if she turned 
the focus of her attention on Aaron, she saw Aaron, and 
only Aaron, and if she looked up at the stars and the night 
sky, she could focus on any point of light, bring it up 
bright and tight, a hot little marble that she could almost 
hold in her hand. Aaron's voice crooned to her, sounding 
for all the world like the music of those very spheres.
'We are the inheritors of this world. We own all of 
this, everything that we can see, everything that there is to 
own. We are the strong ones. The others call us Merry 
Pranksters. We do what we do to test our power. To 
ensure that we can control every aspect of this planet. 
And then we place a clown's face upon our deeds so that 
the old ones will feel no fear.
'But one day we may have to take other steps. And 
when we do we will have to act as one mind, as one body. 
As the inheritors of this world, with no barriers between 
intent and action. As one mind. As one body... '
She could hear his words, felt them slipping between 
those bright hot marbles. She was burning up, but sought 
refuge in the very fire that consumed her. Aaron's hands 
were on her. And then other hands. And then she was 
reaching, touching, tasting, consuming and allowing herself 
to be consumed in the fire raging within her, without her, 
and in the space between those bright, hot marbles in the 
sky.


11- Invisible Death
Death hath so many doors to let out life.
John Fletcher and Philip Massinger, 
The Custom of the Country (c 1620)
The children and their guardians were not quite alone. 
Above them was Geographic. In geosynch over Camelot, 
Geographic maintained a web of satellites across the con-
tinent and around the planet, and kept careful track of 
weather and tidal conditions. Geographic, the largest 
movable object ever created by Man, had carried its cargo 
of frozen human beings across ten light years, expending a 
cubic kilometre of deuterium snowball along the way. 
The deuterium was exhausted now. Its sleeve was a 
shrunken silver balloon, the pressure inside barely higher 
than the vacuum around it.
Geographic could still be moved by smaller steering 
rockets, but until the deuterium was replaced - if it ever 
was - she would remain in external orbit around 
Avalon. She was their link to Earth, and the Earth Born 
insisted that all of their children be taken up. 'This is 
your heritage. You call yourselves Star Born, now see 
the stars. '
A few came back as often as they could. Some of the


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Second still dreamed of crossing the void between the 
stars. A few even spoke of returning to Earth. For the 
most part, though, the children of Earth were rare visitors. 
Geographies corridors were empty, cold and dark, with 
only a few flickering lights to give any sign that she had 
once been alive.
In the command centre, the duplicate of the ground-
based Cassandra system analysed a planet's worth of 
data. She filtered it, and relayed down whatever seemed of 
interest.
Greg Aruda looked up from his novel as the comm 
light came on. 'Aruda here. '
'Zack. How are things?'
'Jesus Christ, Zack, they're the way they were the last 
time you asked. ' He looked at the console. 'The board's 
green. No large objects approaching the oasis. Children all 
accounted for at last head count. Wait one-'
'What?'
'No panic, Zack. Yellow light from one of the close-in 
satellites. There's a wind coming up. Northwest wind, 
about 30 knots through the pass. '
'Rain? Rain means grendels!'
'Ah... indicators say dry. Real dry, suck the water 
right out your pores. Zack, for God's sake, you worry 
too much. Let the kids have some time to themselves. And 
get to bed! I'll call you if there's anything you need to 
know. '
'Yeah. Greg, I know you think I'm a fussy old 
woman... Hell, you were there, you remember grendels. '
'No, they slipped my mind for a good twenty seconds. 
Zack, get to sleep. '
Linda woke as Cadzie shifted in his blanket to search for a 
nipple. Half-asleep, she cooed to him, and peeled back her 
blouse. Drowsily suspended between dream and


reality, she didn't really wake up until Cadzie was sated. 
The morning was still dark. Light would creep across the 
glade in another twenty minutes.
Joe was still asleep, his strong, broad back to her. The 
regular rise and fall of his breathing was absurdly com-
forting.
They made a good team. They worked well together, 
and they played together well. And love was... every bit 
as good. It felt whole, healing. She could easily imagine 
being with this man for the rest of her life. As soon as 
she could be away from Cadzie for a day or two, she was 
going to take Joe down the Miskatonic in the wedding 
ritual as old as Camelot itself. All the way down to the 
ocean, there would be camping and cuddling and long, 
slow, warm lovemaking, and it would be... wondrous.
She wrapped the infant in a blue blanket, covering all 
but his nose. She opened the door of the dirigible and 
stretched in the breeze. She felt utterly content.
Joe had come up silently behind her and was kissing the 
back of her neck. Dawn was coming in now, darkness 
already giving way to a warm, silvery glow. The air was 
no longer still. Ginger and Toffee, the twin golden 
Retrievers, were still asleep, curled up next to each other 
near the dead fire. There were buzzing sounds and distant 
calls of pterodons, and even more distant hisses, calls of 
the monkey-things and the imitative calls of the big spider 
devil that hunted them.
She turned and kissed Joe. His morning breath was 
sour but not unpleasant. She handed Cadzie over, patted 
Joe on his rump, and went to wash and dress, girding her 
mind for the day's business.
By the time Linda climbed down from Robor, Joe was 
already roughhousing with Ginger, pretending to bite her 
throat, growling and barking at her. He gathered up


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Cadzie and gave Linda a minty kiss. The two of them 
crossed the glade, dogs nipping at their heels. She never 
noticed that all the creature sounds of Avalon had gone 
away.
The machinery within the corrugated refinery shack 
was burnt and twisted and scummed with pink fire-foam. 
Linda placed her drowsy son just outside the shack, in the 
waxing sunlight. Ginger curled up next to Cadzie like a 
big cat. Dog warmth and the heat of his blue thermal 
blanket would keep the boy comfortable until Tau Ceti 
climbed a little higher.
Joe was still examining the equipment when she 
returned. He looked utterly disgusted. 'Morning light 
doesn't improve it much, does it?'
'Not a bit. Let's go ahead and make the report. ' She 
touched her collar. 'This is Linda Weyland, at Station III. 
Who's on duty?'
A second or two of silence, and then they got their 
reply. 'Edgar here. Hi dad, Linda. Nobody else around yet. 
Ready to report?'
Joe sighed. 'Frankly, I think that we should trash it and 
rebuild. '
'Except that it might happen again, ' Edgar said.
There's that. Edgar-'
'Yes, sir?'
'Oh hell, of course you don't know anything you're not 
telling us, ' Joe said.
'They don't tell me everything, ' Edgar said. 'Aaron 
doesn't much care for me, and the others - do you still 
think it's sabotage?'
'No, ' Joe said carefully. Til say that for the record. 
After examining the damage here at the minehead, it is 
my considered opinion that we don't have the foggiest 
notion what happened. It's another goddam Avalon 
Surprise. '


The wall shuddered as the wind howled against the 
shack. 'Bloody hell, that wind's come up strong, ' Joe 
said.
Linda stepped out to fold the blanket over Cadzie's 
face.
'Sorry, Edgar, ' she said. 'We're picking up a little wind 
here. '
'What?'
'Wind. '
'Roger, we see that. There's a storm coming south over 
the mountains. Dry wind, no danger from grendels but is 
Robor secure?'
'Very. '
Ginger growled, coming to point. She looked off 
toward the west. Toffee was five metres away, staring in 
the same direction. They began to bark, yapping against 
the growing wind. A dry wind, hot. It dried her skin faster 
than she could sweat.
'Joe? That wind is really coming up. Double-check the 
moorings, will you? And get a wind warning down to 
Heorot. '
Joe dropped a length of singed tubing and grunted in 
disgust. 'You know that they're offline. We can get them 
in an emergency, but that's about it. '
'All right - well, I hope they've got the skeeter shel-
tered. '
'You know Justin. But I'll go and make a check. '
Linda kissed Joe, and he looked almost surprised. 'I'm 
just going to Robor, ' he murmured against her lips.
'Do I need a reason these days?' she asked.
'Never. ' He kissed her again, and started off across the 
glade.
' Will you guys stop the mush?' Edgar said disgustedly.
'No respect, ' Linda chuckled. 'Remember - I'm going 
to be your mother one day soon. '


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'Hey. You know, one of a mother's duties is to find 
mates for her offspring. '
'I told you what to do about that problem. '
'Sure. I'll keep trying. Linda, dad says it wasn't sabo-
tage. You agree?'
'Yes. '
'Say that again?'
'Yes! I agree it was not sabotage. Edgar, that wind is 
really howling now - it's getting hard to hear. ' She put her 
hand across her nose in a vain attempt to filter the dust. 
'It's as if the coal had little flecks of dynamite-'
She stopped. Some creature was howling in torment.
'What's that?' Edgar shouted.
'I don't know-' Across the clearing, the dogs were 
leaping and biting - at the dust. Joe slapped at his chest 
and neck and face. At first she thought it some kind of 
joke... some kind of crazy dance.
The wind was stronger now, driving a wall of dust 
before it. She coughed and stepped out of the shelter, 
trying to see more clearly. Her smile was dead on her 
lips, her laughing questions stillborn in her throat. 
'Joe... '
And then she screamed.
'Linda? Dad?' Edgar's voice sounded urgent. 'Alert! 
All stations alert! Station HI is in trouble!'
She was blind before she quite realized that she was in 
trouble. Agony shrieked in her eye sockets, and she 
slapped her hands up to cover them. Blood slicked her 
palms, she felt the hollows where her eyes should have 
been, and the backs of her hands were being shredded.
The world was consumed with agony. The wind 
roared in her ears. She had time to scream 'Joe!', and then 
the pain was at her lips, her tongue, and she was gagging 
on blood. Some mass staggered into her, and she knew it 
was Joe, darling Joe, loving Joe, groaning like a


thing which had never known human consciousness. The 
Jogs' barking had transformed into an endless, pain-
wracked howl.
In Camelot bedrooms, alarms shrieked, and the streets 
were filled with sprinting bare feet. Hastily-armed grendel 
guns pointed in all directions, and found nothing. There 
was no threat to be seen.
By now the image from Satellite 12 was being piped 
through Geographic, enhanced and relayed to Camelot's 
Comm Control. The image was expanded again, and then 
again, until it seemed the scene was no more than a hun-
dred metres distant... but it was all a blur, just textures 
shifting through fog.
Hendrick Sills was first into the communications cen-
tre. 'What's the alarm, Edgar?'
There was panic in Edgar's voice. 'I thought it was a 
dust storm! They come through there regular, no problem, 
but the dogs started barking and Linda was screaming 
and now I can't hear anything, and I can't see anything, 
and my God!'
'Get hold of yourself, ' Zack said. 'Dust storm. Rain?' 'No, 
no rain, it's a dry hot wind, sirocco wind. Stronger than 
they usually get, but - Zack, I can't hear anything. I can't 
hear anything. They were screaming and now they don't 
answer! What do I do?'
'Keep watching. Can you zoom in?' 'Trying. There, the 
dust is thinning out-' The image focused. Edgar's voice 
dropped to a whisper. 'Oh my God. ' Two human shapes 
and a dog shape were writhing on the ground. 'Dad! 
Linda!'
The wind howled, and under the wind they could hear a 
baby's wail. The image cleared for an instant. Shapes 
thrashed, slowed and faded into a fog of blowing dust. 
Someone muttered a prayer, then the room was still. Half


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a world away, two people that they knew and loved were 
dying in agony, and there was nothing that they could do 
to help.
Linda was beyond pain. She felt her eyes eaten away, the 
flesh etched from her bones.
With the very last strength in her body, her blood-
slicked fingers closed on Joe's misshapen, lifeless hand. 
And her last thought was: 'Cadzie... '
She heard her baby crying, crying, crying...
And then there was nothing at all.


12 - Paradise Lost
Nature is usually wrong.
James Abbott McNeill Whistler, Ten O'clock Lecture 
(1885)


Jessica snuggled next to Aaron in their sleeping bag. She 
was only half-awake until the whitter of skeeter blades 
roused her from her reverie.
She barely wedged her eyes open in time to see it thump to 
ground, landing too damn fast. Justin leapt out and ran 
toward them. 'Emergency, dammit!' he screamed. He was 
bare-chested, wearing only briefs. A surge of adrenaline 
whiplashed her into wakefulness. Aaron was already 
scrambling to his feet.
All right, so Camelot had got nervous. This wasn't the 
first time the Star Born had taken themselves offline. She'd 
known they'd catch hell for it someday, and just maybe 
that day had come...
She struggled into her clothes and hopped out toward 
the skeeter. Sprawled around the dead fire, the other 
Pranksters were hauling themselves to consciousness.
'What's the problem?'
Justin looked pale. 'Edgar rang through. He was online 
with Linda and Joe. They got cut off. Move it!'
They piled into the skeeter. Aaron had time to yell


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'Trouble at Deadwood' to Toshiro, who was up and 
pulling on a knitted shirt. 'We're going up. Get back to 
camp and watch the Scouts. Set a defensive perimeter. 
Keep them back in the cave. Interlocking fields of fire and 
no mistakes. '
'Got it. '
Jessica buckled in. 'Any sounds, messages, images at 
all?' she asked.
'Screams, ' Justin said tightly. 'Just screams. '
'Anything on the motion sensors? The thermals?'
Unbidden, Edgar's voice came over the radio. 'Nothing. 
We've got Sat 12 locked on, and I don't see anything. I 
think they're dead. ''
They rose up out of the glade, then in toward Heorot. 
There they dropped down for a moment. Jessica and 
Aaron took the other skeeter and she had them airborne in 
fifteen seconds. Their ascending spiral twisted the glade, 
the valley and the surrounding mountains into a dizzying 
whirl.
No one spoke as the skeeters levelled out and dove, 
crossing the two kilometres to the camp in about ninety 
seconds. Robor's Chinese-dragon shape leered up at them, 
its red fringes rippling slowly in the wind.
There was nothing. Nothing...
And then Jessica whispered, 'Oh, dear God. ' Bones. 
Human bones. Animal bones.
Aaron said. 'I see three skeletons. Two human. One 
canine. ' His voice still held a machine precision. He was 
speaking for Cassandra, for Edgar back at Camelot. For 
whoever might have tapped into the line and was now sick 
with concern.
Her mind reeled. Grief and fear and raw hatred boiled 
within her like lava. Her vision clouded. She gripped the 
handbar in front of her as if a moment's loss of concen-
tration would tumble her off the edge of the world.


Justin's voice was arctic. 'What do you see on the 
movement sensors? Any thermal flares?'
'Nothing. '
'Nothing, ' Aaron agreed.
Justin's voice was laboured. He sounded like some kind 
of animal straining in a trap. '/ don't see any sign of the 
baby. Of Cadzie. '
A trap-door opened in the back of her mind. She felt 
herself slide a little way down, then clawed her way back 
up. What waited at the bottom of that pit bore fangs and 
claws, and was ravenously hungry.
'No sign. Not yet. ' And what she didn't say, what she 
couldn't say was, Cadzie is barely a mouthful for a grendel.
They hovered almost directly over the glade. Skeletons. 
The mining dome. A dozen metres distant, the refinery 
shack. The dirigible. And that was all.
Aaron snapped out of the trance first. 'Cassandra, 
replay Sat 12, during or just prior to the incident. '
Jessica slipped on a pair of goggles and watched while 
the images played. Running, struggling. A dusty wind-
storm. Death.
Bones.
'Oh, sweet Jesus. '
'That was no grendel. '
'It wasn't anything. ' Aaron was shaken. 'It was 
invisible. ''
Camelot was awake, and gathering in the main hall.
Carlos tore at a scrap of ragged flesh at the corner of 
his thumb. The satellite feed kept playing it over and over 
again, enhanced with thermals, to full magnification, giving 
the illusion that the couple were no more than a hundred 
metres away.
Impossibly far away. A world away.


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Justin's voice came over the speaker. 'This is Skeeter II. 
We are holding at twenty metres. We see skeletons. 
There's nothing alive down there that we can see. Nothing 
we can do to help them. Need instructions. '
Zack touched his collar. 'Moskowitz. Did you say 
skeletons?'
'Yes, sir. Two human skeletons. One canine, ' Aaron said.
Zack was unnaturally calm. 'We copy that. Skeletons. 
Satellite inspection detects nothing. '
'Motion sensors detect nothing, ' Aaron said. 'And we 
see nothing- Wait one. There is a small skeleton in the 
rocks about twenty metres above the camp. '
'Human?'
'No, sir, too small. Now I see another. There are two 
small skeletons. I would say Joeys, from the size. '
'You say there's nothing to be done for Joe and Linda?'
'That's my best judgement, ' Aaron said. 'And there's no 
sign of the baby. '
Zack looked around. 'Where's Colonel Weyland?'
'On the way. '
'Hold off on landing for a minute, please. '
There was no answer. 'Please continue reports, ' Zack 
said. More colonists streamed into the hall, their voices a 
roiling cacophony.
'Wha-?'
'The hell-?'
'Will somebody tell me-?'
'Who's up there-?'
Still no answer. Zack lowered his voice. 'I know that 
you can hear me. Hold off on landing until we have an 
assessment-' Carlos tried to imagine what Justin was 
feeling now. In one sense, he couldn't possibly know. In 
another, he understood precisely. The entire colony was 
family, their lives linked as closely as the fingers of a hand. 
But Linda was Justin's kid sister.


All of their lives, the Seconds had heard horrific stories. 
Hut a thousand stories pale in comparison to a single 
scream of agony.
The crowd behind them parted as Cadmann Weyland 
stormed in. He was red-faced, unshaven and flinty-eyed. I 
Us beige coveralls were wrinkled and stained, as if he had 
thrown on yesterday's clothes.
He glared at the screen, his face as solid and square as 
stone. 'What happened?'
'Something attacked the minehead, ' Zack said. 'No one 
knows what. '
The second image was a skeeter's-eye view of the same 
scene. Skeeter ID number and pilot registration were 
etched at the bottom of the screen.
'Justin, ' Cadmann barked. 'Who's up there with you?'
A long pause.
'Justin! Answer me, dammit. ' They didn't hear a sound 
at first, and then Justin's voice rang down to them:
'Jessica. And Aaron. ''
Thank God, Cadmann thought. Jessica and Justin 
could handle their own, but Aaron Tragon was one of the 
best shots he had ever seen.
' We're going down, dad. '
'Hold off on that. We're still sweeping the area. '
'We don't see anything. The motion sensors don't pick 
anything up-'
'They didn't pick anything up twenty minutes ago, 
either!'
Mary Ann had made her way to Cadmann's side. Her 
face looked as if emotion had been pressed from it like oil 
from an olive. 'Linda? Is Linda all right-'
Cadmann squeezed her hand. 'I don't think so. Justin, 
you're there. Do you see the baby?'
'Baby!' Mary Ann shouted. 'Justin, go find her!'
'Cadmann. '' It was Aaron's voice this time. 'You're


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wrong. The sensors did pick up motion before. Wind. 
Dust storm. Probably some kind of mineral powder, 
something that confused the sensors. We have to go 
down. '1
'Roger. Be careful. Secure Robor first. '
'We will. '
'Is that safe?' Zack demanded.
'They're on the spot, ' Cadmann said. 'And without 
Robor they can't get the Scouts off the mainland. '
'Oh-'
'Cadmann, what's happened to Linda?' Mary Ann 
wailed. 'Justin, where's the baby?'
'Father, ' Jessica said. He almost didn't recognize the 
voice. He had never heard his daughter sound like that 
before. 'I don't see Cadzie. ' Her voice was beyond ice, 
somewhere out in deepest space. The clearing juddered on 
the wall. 'Father, that's Linda down there. And Joe. 
They're dead. But one dog is missing, and I don't see 
Cadzie. '
He was searching for something to say. What hope was 
there for his grandson's survival? Almost none. And yet, if 
there were any chance at all...
'All right, ' he whispered. 'We'll keep watch from here. ' 
Then he turned, and held Mary Ann. When it came right 
down to it, there was really nothing else to do.
Justin watched Jessica touch down without a bump, taking 
that last couple of centimetres as carefully as a man 
stepping onto thin ice.
Aaron dismounted, carrying a grendel gun. Jessica bore a 
regular hunting rifle, its safety off.
Justin hovered overhead, watching. He wiped his moist 
hands nervously on his pants. He strove to starve his 
imagination, to keep focused on each individual moment.


Now and Now and Now, and, after that, the Now to 
come.
ONE careful step at a time, Jessica and Aaron Tragon 
crossed the six or seven metres between the autogyro and 
the skeletons. After each single footstep, she stopped to 
sense her surroundings. There was no sound except the 
steady shoop shoop of Justin's skeeter blades above them.
Aaron's gaze locked with hers for a cold moment, and 
then slid past. Neither of them was willing or able to 
speak. Her heart thundered loudly in her ears.
Three skeletons - two human and one canine - lay in a 
rough circle of flattened grass, as if they had thrashed 
around crazily, fighting, maybe. Fighting what? Where 
were their clothes? Could they have come running out 
naked? Naked but with sandals on... and Joe's hat, but 
not Linda's woven straw bonnet.
Aaron kicked over a small rock that lay beneath the 
smaller skeleton: Linda's, the one with no hat. There was a 
tiny bloodstain under the rock.
'No blood, ' Aaron said. 'Little spots like this, but no 
blood! How long since - the attack started?'
'Twenty-eight minutes since we heard the skeeter 
alarm, ' Justin said.
Aaron looked around warily, rifle at the ready, but 
there was nothing to shoot at. 'And it was all over before 
we got here. '
Jessica couldn't move her eyes away from the three 
skeletons. They were stripped bare of clothing and meat, 
but all were in place, as when an archaeologist opens a 
grave. Nothing had broken or scattered the bones. She 
picked up Joe's hat and rubbed it in her fingers. Inside the 
brim it looked etched, chewed.
Bones stripped of cloth, of meat, of sinew, ready to be 
mounted for a biology class. Eyeless sockets glared up at


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her. Something gleamed. 'Linda's chain, ' Jessica said. She 
pointed. A chain of tiny gold links encircled the neck of 
one of the skeletons. The next thing she knew she was 
bent over, stomach contracting violently. She felt it 
squeeze and pump, heard her own gagging sounds as from a 
distance, as if that other part of her were above the glade, 
watching as the tall blonde woman tried to turn herself 
inside out. Aaron laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. 
She very nearly hit him. She wiped her mouth with the 
back of her hand. No time for emotions, you snivelling 
bitch.
'Cadzie, ' she whispered.
'What?'
'He's got to be here somewhere. Whatever did this was 
in a feeding frenzy. It wouldn't have taken him some-
where else. '
Stripped clean. Plucked bare.
'Where's the other dog?'
'Hope to God it ran away. Ran far enough. ' They 
headed toward the mining shack.
Her collar buzzed. It was Justin. 'What do you see?
'It's Linda and Joe and one dog. '
Aaron's voice was flat. 'We're going over to the pro-
cessing plant. The... door's open. Still no sign of the 
baby. Continue to record. '
'Be careful, ' Justin said.
'Right. '
Jessica was ahead of him, rifle at the ready. The ground 
was bare, not even dust. She stopped short, and pointed.
'Another small skeleton, ' Aaron said carefully. 
'Probably an immature Joey. '
Jessica reached the processing plant. The door was 
open. There was an aroma of burnt plastic within, and an 
ancient, oily musk. The door creaked on its hinges as she 
pushed it back.


The interior was deeply shadowed. Slivers of light 
slanted through holes in the roof. Her breath sounded like 
slow thunder.
'Nothing, ' she reported. 'There isn't any sign of... ' She 
spun at a sudden clatter behind her. Wind against the cor-
rugated steel door. There was nothing, nothing here at all. 
She heard Aaron's voice from outside. 'You had better 
come here. '
Her heart was a stone in her chest. She went outside, 
dreading what she was about to find.
Aaron closed the door. Behind it was the skeleton of 
the missing dog. Next to it was a bundle in a blue blanket. It 
made a coughing sound, and began to cry.
Jessica watched motionless as a tiny pink fist thrust out 
of the blanket and waved, more fiercely now, crying, 
calling for a mother who would never come. 'He's alive!' 
she shouted. She touched the collar button, then changed 
her mind. Instead she ran to pick up the baby.
Cadzie clutched at her. She dropped his deep blue 
blanket in the dust and held him at arm's length. Cadzie 
was furious. Cadzie was-
She hugged him with her left arm so she could touch 
her collar button. 'Cadzie is alive! Dad, you hear? He isn't 
even marked!'
'We have found the baby, ' Aaron said. 'He is appar-
ently unharmed. '
'Tragon, this is Weyland. ' Her father's voice, flat and 
unemotional, came from her collar tab. 'Would you repeat 
that?'
'Yes, sir. We have found the baby. Jessica is holding 
him. He appears to be alive and unharmed. '
'Thank you. Advice. '
'Yes, sir. '
'Jessica, get the baby into the skeeter and stand by. 
Aaron, we've got good photographs. Grab anything you


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think might help us understand this and get out of there. '
'Sounds good to me. ' Aaron nudged Jessica. 'Go to the 
skeeter. I'll cover you. Get inside and close the doors. '
She nodded vigorously. She wanted to run, but she was 
afraid she would drop Cadzie. It felt good to be in the 
familiar skeeter seat.
'Justin, do you see anything?' Aaron asked.
'Nothing on either side of the pass. '
'Then I'll chance gathering the bodies, ' Aaron said. 'But I 
don't get it. Something hit this camp. Fast and hard. Killed 
everything. Except a baby. It couldn't find a child wrapped 
in a blanket. '
'Maybe it wasn't hungry by the time it got to Cadzie. '
'No, that's not it, ' Aaron said. 'It stripped a dog next to 
him, right down to the bones. '
'Aaron, this is Zack. We think you should get out of 
there. You can gather evidence later. '
'Agreed. ' Aaron ran across the dry ground to the 
skeeter and jumped in. 'OK, Jess. Hang onto the baby. 
We're out of here!'


13 - Evacuation
A monster fearful and hideous, vast and eyeless. 
Virgil, Aeneid (c 30-20 BC)
Carey Lou was afraid. There was something wrong, and 
no one would talk about it. They were all calm. Too calm 
- so calm that their very lack of emotional expression 
terrified him.
Each skeeter could carry three children and one adult 
pilot, and under three guards the children were escorted 
back up. Carey Lou was in the third group, and maybe six 
times he asked the same question: 'What's wrong? Is 
something wrong?' And received no answer. Finally 
Aaron Tragon, big Aaron, his buddy, looked at him, his 
eyes like glass. Carey Lou almost felt afraid at that 
moment. Not of grendels or of some other boogie-being 
out in the jungle, but of Aaron himself.
That, of course, was crazy.
So he asked no more questions as they carried load 
after load of children back up the mountain, and when it 
was his turn he didn't question, had run out of questions, 
and wanted only to squeeze into his seat and make himself 
small.
Justin piloted the skeeter, for which Carey Lou was


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grateful. Whatever was going on, Justin knew about it. 
You could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders.
The skeeters spiralled into the air. Ordinarily Carey 
loved flying. But this time there was no joy. There was 
nothing but fear.
Why won't they tell us...
What's wrong...
They circled Robor. There were two pairs of guards on 
each side, facing away from the craft, grendel guns at the 
ready.
Their expressions just about froze his heart.
He had thought Robor looked funny, almost comical. A 
big grendel. A big dragon, the biggest that had ever 
lived. But there was nothing funny about it now. They 
landed behind the two guards and were immediately 
whisked into Robor's shadow by Jessica, who looked 
almost as pale and emotionless as Justin.
Again he was struck by the contrast. Jessica and Justin 
looked scared. Aaron looked... intrigued?
They ushered him up the gangplank and into the hold, 
and he went to the nearest knot of kids and lowered his 
voice, asking: 'Does anyone know what's going on?'
He found Darcy, who tried to smile in memory of a 
magic evening. She looked as frightened as he felt. 
'Something's wrong, ' she whispered. 'Somebody's dead. '
Carey Lou went to the front window and pressed his 
palms against the glass. Who? Who was dead?
He remembered who had stayed behind. With her 
baby. The room swam.
'What in the hell was it? I won't believe in invisible gren-
dels!' Cadmann squeezed his eyes shut and massaged 
his temples with stiff fingers. They'd seen every kind of 
grendel, and he was far too close to believing in this 
one, too.


He had a monster of a headache coming on, and there 
was a numb sensation in his chest, something spreading as if 
he had been struck there. He wanted to scream, to foam, to 
throw something... to do anything but sit here and 
wait. Wait as they received sketchy video broadcasts of 
skeeters relaying children back to Robor. Wait, and pray 
to a half-forgotten God. 'Not everything on this freezing 
planet is a grendel, ' Cadmann said, tasting the thought. It 
felt right: real. 'We don't have any idea of what's really 
here. We've got to stop acting like grendels are the be-all 
and end-all of lethality. '
Hendrick grabbed his arm. 'What in the hell are you 
talking about?'
'We've been afraid of grendels, ' Cadmann said. 'To 
that extent, we've probably blinded ourselves to what is 
actually out there... over there. We never went and 
looked for ourselves, and I think that the grendels 
became a kind of boogie-man. ' The screens showed 
Robor taking off now, safe. Safe from what lived on the 
ground.
Have they gathered her bones? he asked himself. God, I 
hope they gathered her bones. But of course they would 
have. Jessica would have insisted and Aaron would have 
done it. Thank God Aaron was there.
He felt numb. Doors were slamming in his mind, and 
behind them raged fear and grief.
If he wasn't careful, a door might creak open. Behind 
one of them was Linda's birth. Such a small, wrinkled, 
bulbous thing she had been. And his first touch, his first 
scent of her... she would have been a breech birth, but for 
the prenatal diagnostics, and God...
He slammed that door in his mind, and likewise the one 
with invisible grendels behind it too. Pure horror fantasy. 
You'd have to be crazy... He came up, hearing the 
hubbub in the room...


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... and then sank back down again, fighting as his eyes 
grew hot, and then flooded, all of his efforts to keep his 
tears under control as futile as the colonists' attempts to 
tame this fucking planet.
It was no good. None of it was any good, and he had to 
leave the control room, which had grown crowded.
The news had to have reached every corner of the camp 
by now. Razelle Weyland would be flying in from the 
lumber preserves, and her brother Torrance from over at 
the slope camp. People were looking at him with an emo-
tion in their faces that he had never seen there before: 
pity. Shock. They wanted to touch him, to comfort him, 
but with every step he felt the shields sliding down, even as 
the shields around his heart crumbled.
The images were coming so fast, too fast, as if there 
were twenty years of tension, twenty years of fear stored 
up inside him, and now that it had clawed free and 
claimed his youngest, there was nothing to hold back the 
pain anymore, and then...
He saw her, running up to him. Linda was just a baby, 
and her round and shining face, the nappies bunched up 
between her chubby thighs, her little pudgy arms reaching 
up to him, her smile stretching that round little face. Her 
eyes so blue, her mother's eyes.
He held out his hands to her, reached out his own 
arms... reached his arms across the table, his fists closed 
hard on the edge, his good ear pressed flat against wood, 
eyelids like tiny fists closed hard around red-hot embers.
The trip back to the island was subdued. The children 
were wrapped in blankets. Some of them cried. All knew, 
by now, what had happened to Linda and Joe.
Jessica came to sit next to him. Justin looked at her and


she felt the oddest sensation from him. Almost as if he 
were a stranger rather than her brother. His eyes weren't 
hot, or cold. They were just eyes. Black holes, gathering 
data.
Justin's hand strayed over and over again to his pistol, 
palm resting on it as if death might follow them into the 
air, come aboard Robor and follow them back to 
Camelot.
'Where were you?' he asked quietly.
'You know where, ' she said.
'Pranksters, ' he said.
'Justin - even if I had been there, right there, 1 couldn't 
have done anything. '
'Of course. '
'Justin - she was my sister too! Don't shut me out. 
Please. '
'She shouldn't have been there alone. '
'She was not alone. She was with Joe!'
'You're right. You're right. ' He wiped his hand over his 
face. And, for the first time that she could remember, 
Jessica hadn't the slightest idea what was going on behind 
her brother's eyes. Was he blaming her? Himself? 
Imagining what he was going to say to their father? Was 
he thinking of the bones in the hold, all that remained of 
their baby sister?
She reached out to him, touched him gently on his 
shoulder, and was absurdly happy when he didn't brush 
her hand away.
Aaron came up behind her. 'Jessica, ' he said, 'I need to 
talk to you. '
She was torn between Justin and Aaron for a moment. 
Then she smiled almost apologetically, and said: 'I'll be 
right back. '
Justin's gaze slid coldly from Jessica to Aaron and back 
again, and then he nodded, so shallowly that it was almost


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no motion at all. And then, in some way that she couldn't 
completely explain, Jessica knew what Justin was thinking.
And feeling.
She knew it, but couldn't quite make the thought rise 
up to consciousness.
That might have hurt a little too much.


clasped the flagging rope as he pulled. His hands and 
sholders ached. As Stevens and Carlos lent their weight to 
his line, he reached up a trembling hand to feel his right 
cheek. His fingers came away bloody, and he said 
something ugly.
Robor touched down. The rampway opened.


The entire colony was on the beach as Robor floated into 
the bay. Cadmann drew his coat collar up around his jaw. 
The cold seemed more piercing, somehow, as the mist 
rolling in off the ocean penetrated coat and shirt and skin. 
Around him, radios crackled. A dozen rifles were held in 
crossed arms.
Perhaps Death is aboard Robor, he could almost hear 
them thinking. It was what he wondered. It was the fear 
which had lurked just beneath the surface of their loves 
and growths and actions every day for twenty years. And 
now it had come home to roost.
The air was filled with the ocean's steady, rolling roar, 
the crackle of the radios, and no other sound at all. Then 
they heard the purr of skeeter engines. Out of the fog 
loomed Robor, like some great mythical beast bearing its 
dreadful, beloved cargo. Its gigantic red lips glistened in 
the mist. As soon as the lines dropped, colonists chased 
after them to tie them to the docking loops.
The mood was dark, probably the worst he had seen 
since...
Remember Ernst, Cadmann... ?
His memory didn't want to go over it again. And over 
it, and over it.
Someone yelled an instant before one of the docking 
lines slapped across Cadmann's face, smashing his head 
back. His hands flew up to fend off the blow. His hands


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14 - The Trial
I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the 
crimes of this guilty land will never be purged 
away but with blood.
John Brown, Last Statement (1859)
There had never been much need for a formal court room. 
Most problems were handled in a counsellor's office. Really 
severe cases, such as the time years before when Harlan 
Masters had tried to horsewhip Carlos, were decided in the 
council meeting room off the main assembly hall.
It wasn't a very large room. Seven First Generation, 
four men and three women, sat at a dinner table with 
their backs to a bright window, so that it was hard for 
Jessica to see their faces. Everything had been done in a 
stilted, formal manner that she wasn't used to. Like some-
thing out of an old Earth novel.
'Do you have anything to say in your defence?'
She couldn't even tell who had asked that. Probably her 
father. No one had slept for almost forty-eight hours, so 
that all the voices sounded alike, unbearably weary. The 
forensic reports, diagnostics on the mining apparatus, the 
computerized clarification of the death scene, depositions 
from each Biter and Scout... all of these had taken their 
toll.
'Yes, ' she said. 'We were out of contact. I'm not going


TO lie to you about that. I know that it was against the 
rules'
'And what were you doing while you were out of 
contact?
'I don't see what that has to do with my sister's death. '
Cadmann's fingers were folded carefully, and he looked 
up and down the panel. 'We are attempting to determine 
the cause of the disaster. Your delayed reaction time may 
well have been a contributing factor. If some of you had 
stayed behind, or been closer, or responded to your radio 
links... '
'What are you insinuating?'
'They might have tried to call you on their comlinks!' 
Cadmann half stood. 'She was your little sister. You 
should have looked out for her!'
'The camp was secured, dammit!'
'Yes, ' Cadmann sat back again. 'It certainly was. I ask 
you again, what were you doing?'
We were sleeping it off, and I am damned if I'll tell 
you that. 'We slept late. Grendel Scout graduation runs 
late, and there's an orgy after the ceremonies. ' She said 
that defiantly. 'We weren't scheduled to be back earlier. '
'You're right, of course, ' Cadmann said. 'But it's a 
damn' shame. More eyes, more rifles, you might have 
done something. '
'Do you think that hasn't tortured me ever since we 
saw - what we saw?' she demanded. 'Colonel, I plead 
guilty to the childish prank of being out of communica-
tion, but the fact is that we couldn't have got there in 
time to do or see anything anyway. '
'She's right, ' Zack said.
Silence. Somewhere outside, a tractor coughed to life. 
Zack said, 'Can you think of anything else we ought to 
know? Thank you. That is all for now. '


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216
 


Jessica looked defiantly from one of them to the other, 
and then lowered her voice. 'No one here lost more than I 
did. No one. I loved her, dammit. Every time I close my 
eyes I see her face, and I ask myself: Was there something I 
should have done? Is there anything I forgot? Is there-'
'Thank you, Jessica, ' Zack repeated. 'I think that will 
be all. For now. '
Jessica stared at Cadmann as if she were expecting him 
to say something else. Something more - anything more. 
She turned and left the room.
Cadmann fought to keep himself focused on the pre-
sent. But it was all he could do to keep his mind away 
from that terrible moment when the oil cloth was carried 
down from Robor, and he had unwrapped it, carefully, 
gingerly, as if what lay within it could still be wounded by 
human effort.
One set of those bones had been his youngest daughter. 
The other, one of his oldest friends.
He had known Joe Sikes for, what... ? A hundred and 
twenty years? And there was a thing that stood between 
them, but they'd recovered from that...
'This is an inquest, not a formal trial, ' Zack announced 
carefully. 'I do warn you that anything said here may be 
used as evidence in a trial if this board of inquiry decides to 
file formal charges. Do you understand this?'
'Yes, sir. '
'State your name. '
'Aaron Tragon. ' There was the faintest hint of a smile 
at the corners of his mouth. This was all being recorded, 
and there was no chance that Cassandra didn't know who 
he was, but the rules said that you state your name to 
begin formal hearings.
'Aaron Tragon, you were in charge of the children's 
expedition. '


'No, sir. Justin was in 
charge. I was second-in-
command, ' Aaron said 
carefully.
'Why do the younger Scouts say you were in charge, 
then?' Zack asked.
Aaron shook his head. 'I guess because we don't make a 
big thing of it, ' he said. 'Justin and I both know what to do, 
and it never came to any conflicts, so I suppose the kids 
didn't know. '
'Or care?'
'Yes, sir, or care, ' Aaron said. 'I'm sorry, sir, but it just 
wasn't a big deal. '
'All right, I can understand that. But you were second-
in-command. You were aware that the comlink cards had 
all been turned off?'
'Yes, sir. '
'Why?'
'It was a tradition, ' Aaron said. 'Maybe a silly one, but 
- this is Graduation Night, something we Seconds do, 
and-'
'And you don't need no stinking Firsts listening in?' 
Carlos prompted.
Aaron nodded. 'Something like that. We wouldn't put it 
in quite those terms. '
'You resent the First?' This was from Julia Chang 
Hortha, agronomist, nurse, counsellor, and a minister of 
the Unitarian-Universalist Fellowship, the closest thing to a 
formal church they had.
'Well, sometimes, ma'am, ' Aaron said. 'Not the Earth 
Born so much as all the rules. '
'Rules are important, ' Zack said automatically.
'Sure they are, for-' Aaron cut himself off. 'Yes, sir, 
under many circumstances rules can be very important. '
'But not for you?' Cadmann asked carefully.
'Not always for us, no, sir. Colonel, we are of age in 
any civilization you had on Earth. Full voting citizens,


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219
 


entitled to full rights, including the right to live under 
laws we have consented to. Aren't we?'
Everyone in the room knew what Aaron hadn't said: 
Laws made by people in full possession of their faculties, 
not by those with ice on their minds.
'You have made your point, ' Zack said. 'But the fact 
remains that you consented to the rules before you went to 
the island. Didn't you?'
'Well, yes. We had no choice. '
'Consented under duress?' Carlos asked carefully.
'If you prefer. '
'All right, Aaron. Tell us what happened. '
'Yes, sir. The Seconds were awakened by a panic mes-
sage from the watch officer, Edgar Sikes. That is all 
recorded. He told us there was trouble at the minehead. 
He was highly disturbed and shouting. Justin, Jessica, and I 
took the skeeter after telling Toshiro Tanaka where we 
were going and instructing him to set up a complete defen-
sive perimeter at the camp for the protection of the 
children. '
'Yes. That was well done, ' Cadmann said.
'Thank you, sir. We then proceeded to the minehead, 
picking up another skeeter on the way. Again this is all 
recorded. When we arrived we saw no large animals and 
nothing that could have attacked the campsite. Linda 
Weyland and Joe Sikes were unrecognizable, identifiable 
only by jewellery, their shoes, and Joe's hat... The dogs 
were mere skeletons.
'We were hesitant to approach the site but we had no 
choice since there were no signs of the baby. We then 
found the child alive and unhurt. Jessica took the baby 
and locked herself in the skeeter. When she was secured 
there I photographed the site and recovered the human 
but not the animal skeletons. At your suggestion I was as 
brief as possible. We returned to the children's camp. We


then assisted in getting everyone aboard the dirigible and 
returned to the island. '
'Anything you would have done differently?' Cadmann 
asked.
'No, sir. By the time we got to the minehead, it was far 
mo late for - for medical remedies. They were not merely 
dead but-' He put his fingers to his temples and shook 
his head. 'Absolutely nothing we could have done would 
have been of the slightest use. '
'And there was no sign of what killed them? No clue, 
nothing?' Dr Hortha asked.
'None I saw. As we got closer there was-'
'Yes?' Zack prompted.
Aaron's eyes drooped; he wasn't seeing Zack. 
'Motion. Yellow dust in a wind. Sir, I'm not sure I saw 
anything, and I can't find it in the satellite recordings. If it 
was there, it blew away before we could get close. But 
after we found the baby and before we left, I looked 
again. The dust was just the usual dust that always 
blows across the pass. It's a dusty place, more so because 
we diverted the stream away from the pass. I'm sure you 
all know that. '
Cadmann looked up from his papers. 'Thank you. 
Aaron, we both know whatever the formal chain of com-
mand, you're the real leader of the Second. '
'If so it's unofficial, sir, ' Aaron said. There was little 
expression in the face, or to the voice... but somewhere, 
back in the cave where Aaron Tragon lived, something 
had shifted and coiled. He was warier now.
'We also know of a group we call the Merry 
Pranksters. Now you're either their leader, or you know 
exactly who is, and who's part of that group. '
Aaron shrugged. Now his face had no expression at all.
'And we know that during trips to the mainland you 
have private gatherings. Some of these involve the younger


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children and are part of the graduation ceremonies. Some 
do not. We haven't interfered, because it is important that 
you assume as many of the responsibilities of this colony 
as possible. Some of us understand that you really are 
citizens, you know. '
'Yes, sir. And?'
'What I want to know is... were you performing such a 
ceremony the night that my daughter was killed?'
'Yes, sir, we were. '
'Were you further away from the encampment than you 
had been directed to travel?'
At the corner of Aaron's mouth a muscle spasmed. 
'Yes, sir, we were. '
'Were you out of radio communication?'
'To all but an emergency alert, yes, sir. '
'And it is conceivable that Linda might have been too 
confused, or in too much pain, to remember proper pro-
cedure for an emergency message?'
Aaron thought for a moment. 'Yes, sir, it is possible. I 
might even think it likely. '
Cadmann nodded. He could respect this boy. He was a 
good one.
'And you can agree that it was your duty to remain 
within range of the base camp, which you did not? And to 
remain in contact, which you also chose not to do?'
'Yes, sir. '
Zack interrupted. 'I have another question. '
Aaron regarded him almost as if he were an intruder. 
'Yes? Sir?'
'During this period of time when you were out of com-
munication, were you intoxicated?'
Aaron's eyes narrowed. 'Yes, sir, we were. '
'And the intoxicants were not on our list of-' Zack 
struggled for a word.
'Sir, they were not on the list of recommended inebriants.


But if it had been beer or marijuana, the results would have 
been the same. We made a mistake. But the choice of psy-
choactives has nothing to do with that. '
'I disagree, ' Zack said. 'From the very beginning, from 
the appearance of that eel, to the discovery of the explo-
sions on the mainland, to the way we were pressured into 
this operation, to your behaviour on the mainland, this 
entire affair has been handled in an irresponsible, childish, 
criminally stupid fashion. '
Aaron turned back to Cadmann. 'Sir, our actions on 
the mainland were disastrous as it turned out. We cer-
tainly broke rules. But normal safety precautions were 
taken, with the exception of radio links and proximity. I 
submit to you that whatever killed Linda and Joe might 
well have killed anything else nearby. And in any event, 
we weren't supposed to be up there that night or that 
morning. Yes, we used teacher plants and then connected 
with each other-'
Zack was unimpressed. 'You mean you got high and 
had a sex orgy. '
Aaron didn't rise to the bait. 'We put the little ones to 
bed first. We chose Toshiro to stay straight and be in 
charge. And, while we're talking for the record here, I 
want that record to show that the kids were our responsi-
bility, and we met that. Not one of them was killed or 
hurt. They were our responsibility. Not the people up at 
the mine, who would have been there even if the rest of us 
hadn't gone to the mainland at all. '
'Aaron-' Julia said.
'Yes, Dr Hortha, I should calm down, ' Aaron said. 
'And I will. But I wanted this on the record. We met our 
responsibilities. As to what we were doing, that is the 
business of the Star Born. The Second, if you like that 
term better. But we are all adults, and the nature of our 
ceremonies is no concern of you Earth Born. '


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222
 


'I say it is!' Manny Halperin had been quiet until this 
explosion.
'It was a spiritual ceremony, Mr Halperin. We have 
the freedom to practise what we will-'
'You got stoned and fucked your brains out!' Spittle 
flew from Halperin's mouth. 'What the hell is so damned 
spiritual about that?'
'Do I have to answer that?' Aaron demanded.
'I'd appreciate it if you did, ' Zack said.
Aaron paused. When he spoke all of the incredible 
blowtorch intensity of his will was focused on Zack.
'I didn't choose to come here, ' Aaron said, his voice so 
soft and low that they had to strain to hear it. 'I didn't ask 
to be born not of woman. You brought us, and gave us a 
world filled with opportunity-'
'And dangers, ' Cadmann said quietly.
'Yes. ' Aaron smiled. 'Dangers. You brought us here, 
into a situation which you couldn't possibly understand, a 
very dangerous situation indeed. And many of you died. 
Did you hold a tribunal then? Did you judge each other? 
Did you ask each other questions about how you prayed, 
on those nights?'
Damn1 straight we did. Cadmann wouldn't have spoken 
anyway, but...
'How dare you question us?' Aaron thundered. 'How 
bloody goddam dare you! We are not your possessions. 
And I am not your child. Not the child of any of you. You 
made damned certain of that, didn't you? Not one of you 
would give me his name. My name came from a record 
book. The only place I could call home, the closest one of 
you I have to a father, is the man whose bones I picked up 
out there on that pass! You think you lost something out 
there? So did I!'
'Aaron, ' Julia Hortha said.
'No, ma'am, I won't calm down. Not this time! You


hypocrites! You believed that because you fed us and 
clothed us and taught us, we should be freezing grateful to 
you... well, we are. But don't tell me what god to worship, 
or how to worship it. It is none. Of. Your. Freezing. 
Business'
He had lowered himself so that both knuckles rested on 
the table, and he stared directly into Zack's face.
Then he stood up. 'Of all of you, only Cadmann is a 
man, ' he said. 'The rest of you can go to hell. Cadmann, 
you have always told me the truth. You have always 
spoken from your heart, not from some freezing rule 
book. What do you say?'
The entire room turned to look at Cadmann.
He felt small. Finally he spoke. 'I lost a daughter, ' 
Cadmann said. 'For reasons that are still unclear. But that 
was an accident, a result of another of the hideous secrets 
this planet conceals from us. I can't hold that against you. 
But you agreed to follow certain procedures. And you 
broke your word. We are a community, and a community 
must have its rules. We can't break away from that. '
Aaron seemed to be hearing beyond the words, and 
gave the barest of nods to Cadmann. 'And so?'
'And so, ' Zack said. 'The mainland is off-limits. There 
will be no human return there. Robotic probes will be 
devised to learn what needs to be learned. You'll help us 
design them. You'll help us ask the questions they will 
answer. '
Aaron seemed to grow dark. 'We lost one of ours, 
Governor. We have a right to our revenge. '
'You have no right!' Zack exploded. 'Don't you under-
stand what you represent?'
'We decline to represent anything1. We're not your frozen 
foetuses any more. We are living creatures, with our own 
wills, and our own needs! We are not your freezing chil-
dren! We are the future of this planet. You are its past. '


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'There will be no return. '
Aaron glared at them. He seemed to be oh the verge of 
saying something. Then he nodded curtly. 'Is that all, 
then?' 'It is, ' Zack said. Aaron Tragon turned, heel-toe, 
and left the room.


15 - The Verdict
I tell them that if they will occupy themselves with the study 
of mathematics, they will find in it the best remedy against the 
lusts of the flesh.
Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain (1924)


The clouds were grey, tinged with orange where Tau Ceti 
licked them from beneath. It was the seventh dawn after 
Robot's return. A lone pterodon circled overhead, skaw-
nig mournfully to the misted cairn of Mucking Great 
Mountain. Its angular wings flapped sombrely.
The early light had yet to transform the fertile fields 
and roads and buildings of Camelot into a community. It 
remained a sleeping thing, and, but for the four hundred 
people gathered in the small graveyard, it would have 
seemed deserted.
The coffins were small. Not much was needed for 
hones. Mary Ann had asked that her child be cremated. 
Cadmann told her gently that that was out of the question: 
additional tissue tests might be needed at some future time.
She asked that Linda be buried up on the Bluff, but 
every member of the colony wanted to be present for the 
ceremony. A compromise was reached. The ceremony was 
performed in the colony graveyard. Joe and Linda would 
be buried up on the Bluff, side by side.
Sylvia held Cadzie, who was oddly quiet. The past 
week had been hard for him.


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Cadmann looked out at his friends and family, and 
tried to hold his voice even. 'We knew what we did when 
we came here. We entrusted our seed, breed and generation 
to a world no human being had touched. We knew that 
there would be grief, but also joy. '
Mary Ann clung to his arm, wan and fragile and shat-
tered inside.
'There has been joy here, so far from Earth. There has 
been-' He faltered. The words wouldn't flow. 'The joy of 
hard work, shared by friends and family. The joy of dis-
covery, of a new land. The joy of love and birth and 
growth. There is a price for everything in this life, and we 
thought we had paid that price. '
His vision clouded. 'We were foolish enough to think 
that one generation can pay the way for the next. God has 
showed us that each must pay his own way through life. 
My daughter is gone. The man she loved, our friend and 
companion for twenty years, is gone. ' He looked out over 
the faces in the crowd. He knew each one of them. Had 
been present when many of them were born. This was 
their world...
Wasn't it?
'By a miracle, their baby, my grandchild, was saved. 
We have an obligation to keep that child' - gently, softly, 
he took Cadzie from Sylvia's arms - 'this child safe. He 
belongs to all of us now. We have-' The hurt was bub-
bling up now, faster and faster, and he didn't seem to be 
able to get the barriers up in time to stop it. 'We have to 
keep this world safe. '
He held Cadzie to his chest, felt the life in that small 
bundle. Smelled the fresh baby smell and heard the small 
heart beating, and knew how close, how terribly close 
death had come to this small thing that he loved so dearly. 
Suddenly the ground had struck his knees. How had that 
happened? Sylvia was prising Cadzie out of his arms. His


forehead struck Linda's coffin, and all of the things that he 
had never said, had thought that there would be time to 
say, boiled out of him, scorched him with their scorn, and 
turned all of his carefully planned words into a miserable 
slurry of lies.
And when, after a while, Sylvia and Justin helped him 
up, and the final words were spoken by Zack, Cadmann 
felt high above himself, with the pterodons, up in the 
clouds, watching these small, insignificant people scratching 
in the dirt of Avalon, burying their dead in the earth 
which would, too soon, receive them all.
Aaron's den was crowded with bodies and talk, and 
warmed by a crackling thornwood fire. Chaka pressed his 
big palms against the northern window, feeling the vibration 
as big fat sparse drops shattered against it. Beyond the 
deserted beach, waves rolled and crashed as if attempting to 
wash all trace of Man and his works from Avalon.
A tiny human shape rode a sliver of wood and plastic 
atop a black wave. Idiot. Probably showing off for the 
kaffeeklatch, which had not invited him.
Chaka turned, for the thousandth time examining 
Aaron's living space, speculating on what it revealed 
about the Star Bern's de facto president. It was small, 
actually - smaller than many of the other Surf's Up 
dwellings. Not elaborate, or richly appointed.
But what it was was precise, to a degree that made 
Chaka vaguely uncomfortable. Aaron had designed and 
built it himself. Every joint of wood dovetailed into every 
other joint with machined precision. The couches were 
built into the walls, chairs fitted to tables, windows 
slanted to give the illusion of more room and positioned to 
catch the maximum of natural light.
But there was something almost... what? Womblike? 
Aaron's lair was really a bachelor pad, without room for


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a cohabitant, no matter how often or intensely he might 
entertain overnight guests.
Chaka knew, for instance, that no woman had ever 
slept on Aaron's narrow bed. It was too narrow for love-
making - such intimate activity invariably took place on 
the living-room divan. Or the floor, or the shower, or 
standing up in a hammock. Aaron was nothing if not a 
sexual athlete. The bed was almost too narrow for sleep. 
Even unconscious, Aaron's discipline was Spartan.
A kitchen/dinette for meals, a living room for guests, a 
den for conspirators, a library for study, an exercise 
room for physical torture and a bedroom for sleep, all 
fitted about one another like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, in 
perhaps two-thirds the space of the average dwelling. 
Odd.
Katya made coffee at the counter along one wall, using 
the elaborate samovar she had installed to keep a constant 
supply of hot water. She seemed to be giving the conver-
sation only half of her attention. The rest of her mind 
was probably evaluating the relational dynamic between 
Jessica and Aaron. Jessica stood next to Aaron's chair, idly 
fondling his hair. Not that Katya was directly interested in 
Aaron - any fool could see that she was in love with 
Justin. But a Tragon-Weyland alliance would affect 
Avalonian history for the next three centuries.
The monitor next to Aaron's huge easy chair looked 
blank at first glance, and Chaka took a moment to study 
it. Pale brown, with a fine texture... faded ornate lettering... 
and then it leapt into focus.
It was the Scribeveldt, that northeastern region of the 
continent which had never been seen except through cam-
eras aboard Geographic. Flat and featureless, endless 
pampas, with one river and few streams. Chaka watched 
cursor points draw tracks in speeded-up motion. They 
made pale, graceful curves that crossed each other rarely,


as if something immense were trying to write messages to 
Geographic.
Chaka cleared his throat and spoke to the computer 
screen. 'Edgar, you on?'
He was looking at the top of Edgar's head. Eyes 
glanced up, fell again. 'Yeah. '
Trish Chance's fingers clamped on Chaka's forearm, 
and she swung him around into a gaudy, passionate kiss. 
Edgar looked up again, fighting a smile. 'I'm here, I'm 
listening. Hi, Chaka. Hi, Trish. Enough already. '
'Hi, Edgar, ' Trish sang sweetly.
'Edgar, it's official, ' Aaron said, and it was suddenly 
clear he was speaking to them all. 'No expedition to the 
mainland. Not even for Grendel Scout graduations. 
Nothing until they understand what happened. '
'That's a quote?' Edgar asked.
'Condensation. Accurate, though. '
'They won't understand until we learn more, ' Chaka 
said. 'And we won't learn until we've been there a while. '
Katya asked, 'Chaka? What do you think happened?'
Chaka shook his head. 'Avalon Surprise. It's a locked -
room mystery. I don't have any ideas. Neither does my 
father. ' He caught Aaron's change of expression, and met 
his eyes. Father.
'Your father, ' Aaron said, 'is as likely to have ice on his 
mind as any other First. Your father is no closer to an 
answer than anyone else. They will never find out. 
Something killed our friends. They won't let us go until we 
know, and we can't know unless we go. It's a perfect 
dilemma. '
'I wouldn't say quite that, ' Chaka said.
'Oh? Why not?'
Chaka sipped black coffee. The point is, one day we 
will go back. This edict won't last forever. '
'Sure, we'll outnumber them one day, ' Trish said.


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'I won't wait that long. ' Jessica stood at the wet bar 
where Katya waited for water to boil. There was jittery 
energy in her stance, in her voice. 'Something killed Linda. 
Linda and Joe, but not the baby. How can you sleep, not 
knowing what did that? You say Avalon Surprise, you're 
talking about something that could wipe this world clean 
of us! I have to know what killed my sister. '
'Your father's the one who won't let us find out, ' 
Aaron said.
Jessica nodded. 'Loyalty. Dad's big on loyalty. He'll 
fight Zack every step, but once a decision is made-'
'Loyalty to the king, ' Aaron said, skirting sarcasm only 
by the blandness of his expression. 'A cardinal virtue of 
the warrior. '
'Chaka Zulu would agree, ' Chaka said without a trace 
of irony. 'Courage, obedience to the king, protection of 
the weak. Universals. ' He was already thinking in terms of 
robot probes. Earth's solar system had been explored by 
probes long before the first men set foot on Mars. Neat little 
multi-wheeled bugs had crawled over the faces of Mars and 
the outer moons. Cassandra had to have templates...
'Well, we're not bound by obedience, ' Aaron said. 'To 
Zack, or Colonel Weyland, or the council, or all the ice-
bound Earth Born at once. '
'Ice, ice, ice, ' Chaka exploded. 'Why is it always ice 
when the Earth Born aren't doing what we want?'
Aaron took a moment to shape his response, and 
Toshiro stole that moment. 'The First are not always 
wrong. Jessica has the scar to show, and Mack what's-his-
name died-'
'Mack Reinecke, ' Chaka said. 'He was a Bottle Baby 
too, just younger than Justin. Most of you weren't old 
enough to be there-'
Aaron was listening, silent. The story would get told, 
no matter what he did.


'Four of the Firsts took us on camp-out, ' Toshiro said. 
'Zack Moskowitz needed exercise. Zack and Rachael, 
Hendrick Sills, Carolyn McAndrews. They wanted coffee. 
And they took eight of us, the oldest children, whoever 
might be big enough to carry his pack. 1 was eleven. At 
that, Trish got too tired and Hendrick had to lie her pack 
to his own. Made Hendrick a little surly.
'So we pitched camp at night, and the next morning the 
Firsts set us collecting coffee. We got bored with that, so 
they took over and we went exploring. An hour later we 
were looking at a pterodon nest. It was below us, across 
jagged rock cliffs.
'We watched it until we got hungry, and then we went 
back for lunch. Trish told Zack. Zack told us not to go 
anywhere near a pterodon nest, and Hendrick backed 
him. Aaron, you asked Zack what he thought would hap-
pen. He didn't know. Hendrick didn't know.
'We went off again. Mack Reinecke led us around to a 
place we could get down into the nest. Mack was in the 
nest-'
'So was I, ' Aaron said. 'And four eggs, far bigger than 
hen's eggs, and leathery. I took one. '
'Yes, you did, ' Toshiro said. 'And then one of the 
adults came back. We all scrambled away as best we 
could. The other big bird caught us coming up the rocks. 
That one slashed Jessica across the head and neck, a great 
gaudy scary slash. Aaron fought them off with rocks while 
the rest of us got away.
'It took a skeeter to find Mack. He was part-eaten. The 
pterodons knocked him off the rocks. '
'All right, Toshiro, ' Aaron said. 'I'll even give you this. 
Zack and Hendrick gave us the same advice we'd give the 
Grendel Biters now. We acted like we had ice on our 
minds. We were children. '
'So what will we do?' Katya asked quietly.


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'Go back. '
The Seconds looked at each other. Nobody said any-
thing until Chaka asked, 'How?'
Aaron shrugged. 'Once we decide what we'll do, the 
how becomes a mere tactics and logistical detail. Are we 
agreed that we'll go?'
There was a chorus of ayes, Chaka's not among them, 
Aaron noticed. He raised an interrogative eyebrow. 'Have 
we a problem?'
'Maybe, ' Chaka said. 'Edgar is worried about the 
weather. '
Suddenly, Edgar's on-screen attention was theirs. 
'There's no doubt about it, the sun is heating up, and the 
local lifeforms-'
'Wow. ' Trish giggled. 'How much? I mean if this is the 
end we should have a hell of a party-'
'It's not going to cremate us, Trish!' Edgar said indig-
nantly. 'You have apocalyptic tastes. '
'Oh. ' She pouted. 'Sorry. '
Like hell, Chaka thought. She's playing a game, and I 
can't see it.
'It's normal variation, ' Edgar said. 'Tau Ceti has a fifty-
year cycle. We're coming up on the maximum output. 
More energy means more variable weather. Higher winds. 
Weather gets less predictable... say, two days ahead 
instead of four. I've had Cassandra mark out regions on 
the mainland where we could get tornadoes. ' A map 
replaced Edgar's face for a long moment, then he reap-
peared. The Scribeveldt was an angry red. 'Here in 
Camelot we could get hurricanes and typhoons along the 
north and west coast. The ecology seems to be heating up 
too, but you'll have to ask the Chakas about that. '
'The wild Joeys around the Stronghold have disap-
peared, ' Chaka said. 'The tame Joeys were tearing up their 
claws trying to burrow. It was making Mary Ann


Weyland crazy until she turned them loose. They bur-
rowed in and estivated. From the sea we're getting eels-' 
'Eels plural?' Jessica asked.
'There've been over thirty of them since Mother Eel, ' 
Chaka said. 'Eels in nearly every Camelot stream. Father 
thinks the solar cycle is the trigger. More ultraviolet, and 
the eels start to spawn. Probably triggers other biological 
reactions too, but there isn't enough biology on this island 
to notice. '
'But there'll be a lot on the mainland?' Aaron asked. 
'Interesting. We'd better make sure Edgar is watching 
that, too. Edgar?'
'Yeah. Aaron, weather problems will get serious in 
about four months. Tornadoes that can tear Robor to tinsel 
before you can say Shit-oh-dear. We could do worse than 
to leave Robor in his nice safe hangar for the whole 
season. Watch the mainland from orbit, send some 
probes, let the Firsts cool down for a year. We can collect 
so many good questions that it'll drive them crazy by the 
time the weather settles down. '
Chaka waited for Aaron to destroy Edgar. He was 
surprised when Aaron mildly said, 'Sitting on our asses 
isn't exactly to my taste, but it certainly makes a good 
default option. Can you and Chaka work up some 
probes for the interesting mainland ecologies? Chaka, 
we do this right and we'll have your father foaming at 
the mouth. '
'Hell, yes, ' Chaka said.
'You'll work on that? Maybe you could talk to Edgar 
in the bedroom for a while. '
Edgar coughed, seeming almost embarrassed. 'Not too 
long a talk, OK? I have an appointment with Toshiro. '
Chaka waited for the criticism, and was again surprised 
to see Aaron nod understandingly. 'This will only take a 
minute. The rest of us can map out a way to return to the


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mainland. We'll flash it to you later for comment and 
refinement. '
Edgar winked off.
Chaka went into the bedroom and closed the door.
The room was near-silent until the monitor returned to a 
view of the Scribeveldt.
'Edgar, ' Katya said, 'could be a problem. '
'Asset, ' Aaron said absently. 'The secret to life is turning 
stumbling blocks into stepping stones. '
'And just how do you do that?'
His grin was pure evil. Instead of answering, Aaron 
templed his fingers and narrowed his eyes at Trish. 'I 
believe that you have things to do and people to see. '
Trish grabbed her gym bag from the corner. 'And 
places to go. On my way. '
'Oh, and Trish - you will be endearingly clumsy, won't 
you?'
She took a step toward the door and stumbled, barely 
catching herself. She assumed her best poor-little-me 
expression. 'I just don't know what's wrong with me 
today. ' And she was gone.
Jessica stooped to look carefully into Aaron's eyes. 
'And just what are you up to?'
'I could tell you, ' he said cheerfully, 'but then I'd have 
to kill you. '
'Tsuruashi-dashi, ' Toshiro barked. Edgar's mind swirled. 
He was staggering through that twilight zone between 
fatigue and utter exhaustion. He'd been marching back 
and forth across the hard rubber gymnasium floor for 
what seemed like hours but couldn't have been more than 
fifty minutes.
His legs were sacks of wet sand. The fire in his chest


threatened to engulf him. Toshiro stood before him in 
white pyjamas, a garment he called a gi, with a black sash 
knotted about the waist.
Edgar kept his mind on that belt. His father had earned 
one back on Earth. Toshiro had earned his by satisfying 
Cassandra's kinaesthetic model of a third dan karate 
expert. Joe Sikes had tried to interest Edgar in the formal 
dances, the complex and challenging stances, the terrifying 
strikes and kicks of Kyukushin karate. Edgar had learned 
only his own terrifying vulnerability. He was as likely to 
perform surgery on a friend as to kill with a mae-geri 
front kick.
Now Joe was dead. Maybe this penance was a way of 
keeping a little of his father alive.
Edgar stood in the Tsuruashi-daski, the crane stance, 
balanced on his left leg, the right foot tucked up on his 
thigh, arms spread for balance. His calf was cramping, his 
toes digging into the mat for balance so hard that he felt 
his toenails ready to rip free.
Toshiro wasn't the laughing funster now. Nor the tal-
ented guitarist, nor the avid surfer, nor the careful lover. 
When he donned that white uniform something else came 
out. Maybe he was channelling a 16th century samurai. 
Or Tomas de Torquemada. One of those fun guys.
No mirth shone in Toshiro's eyes, but finally he 
acknowledged Edgar's suffering. He softened his voice 
momentarily. 'Do you feel the similarity between this and 
the yoga Tree Pose?'
Edgar's whole body trembled. Why was this so damned 
hard? Bruce Lee made it look easy. He was drowning in a 
sea of lactic acid. 'I, uh... I have to stand on one leg?'
'That's the obvious answer. Look deeper. '
The room was spinning. This asshole wasn't going to 
let him put his foot down until he answered! He was going to 
fail, crack his head, and his brains would run out on the


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mat. Maybe then the Shogun of Suffering would be satis-
fied. Edgar almost smiled to himself, appreciating the 
alliteration.
Wait. Suddenly, he had the answer. 'Balance, ' he 
gasped. 'I have to concentrate on the same place in my 
body, you know, at my navel. '
'Just below your navel, and three inches in. The centre 
of mass. In Japanese, hara. In Sanscrit, manipura. All 
right, bring your foot down slowly. '
Edgar nearly collapsed, almost didn't hear the polite 
applause from the side of the gym. He turned and saw 
Trish. She was dressed in a tan leotard that revealed the 
curves and angles of that magnificent body more than 
simple nudity ever could. What was she doing here? Was 
she here to watch him make a fool of himself? This was 
only his tenth lesson. It wasn't fair!
Toshiro seemed to read Edgar's mind. 'Trish asked if 
she could join us today. It's her fourth lesson. She's having 
some trouble with her stances. '
Trouble? Trish? Hard to believe.
She smiled at him. He wasn't certain, but it might have 
been the first time he had ever seen it up close. Even when 
stern she was just drop-dead gorgeous. But her smile was 
sort of sweet, and disarmingly girlish. 'Do you mind?'
'Well, ah-'
'I thought it might be a good idea for her to see a 
student who is better than she is, but not so much better 
that it is discouraging, ' Toshiro said quietly.
I'm better than she is? At something physical?
Suddenly, and quite dramatically, all of the fatigue flitted 
away on wings of testosterone. He felt centimetres taller, 
and his muscles - flabby and girded with fat though they 
were - were suddenly steel bands. Well, rubber bands. 
But bands nonetheless.
She stood by his side. Taller than he by a couple of


centimetres, and devastatingly feminine for all of the mus-
cle now clearly revealed to view.
'Today you learn to teach what you know, ' Toshiro 
said. 'Let her take her stance, and you make the correc-
tions. '
'Would you?' she asked. There was no mockery in her 
voice, but some part of him still just couldn't believe it.
'Zenkutsu-dachil' Toshiro barked. Trish bent her front 
knee, and leaned forward, straightening her rear leg. She 
wobbled badly.
'Oh, ' Edgar said, and just like that, his mind slipped 
into analytic mode. 'I see the problem. Your knee is leaning 
past your toes. And your hips are twisted wrong, see... ?'
Toshiro nodded approval.
The shower beat down on Edgar's back like a rain of 
needles, sluicing the sweat and dust from his body. It felt 
terrific. It just might have been the first time he had ever 
actually felt good after a workout. Before this, karate 
sessions functioned mainly to assuage guilt.
With the second half of the day's lesson devoted to 
teaching Trish, her wide, liquid-brown, humbly grateful 
eyes following his every move, he had actually got out of 
his head and done well! Maybe his punches and kicks 
weren't like Toshiro's - blur-fast and savagely precise -
but at least they were correct. And Trish liked what she 
saw. He could tell. A karate man knows these things.
'Toshiro?' he said dreamily, working the soap into his 
pudgy sides.
Toshiro was rinsing. He was smooth-muscled, his body 
like a swimmer's. Hard, flat plates rounded by a thin fat 
padding. For a startling moment Edgar realized that he 
could have a body like that.
Wow.


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'Yes, Edgar?'
'I really did all right today, didn't I?'
'You did fine. ' Toshiro grinned at him. 'I think that 
Trish would agree with that, don't you?'
Edgar's face felt hotter than the water beating against 
it. He thought about Trish again, and realized that he'd 
better change the subject before his body reacted too obvi-
ously.
'You figured out the karate stuff from the tapes, right?'
'Your dad was a help - he'd studied a long time ago. 
But mostly from the pictures. ' Toshiro's face was a little 
dreamy and distant. 'Some of it was difficult, but I had 
balance from surfing. The stances you just do until your 
legs get so tired that the only way to keep erect is to do 
them correctly. Then you experiment. I mean, they had 
thermographs and electromyographs of these old karate 
masters going through their moves, so you can make 
pretty good guesses about what was going on under their 
uniforms, but finally you just have to make guesses. '
'I think you did pretty well. '
'I wish they had recorded the Grandmaster Mas 
Oyama, in his prime. He could kill bulls with his bare 
hands. '
'No. ' His mind swam. Edgar Sikes, bull-killer. Master 
of Men.
Toshiro turned off his shower and towelled vigorously.
Edgar followed him. 'You know, you're really smart. '
Toshiro shrugged. 'You're the computer whiz. '
'But I never realized all the intelligence that goes into 
learning to use your body. I mean the yoga, and the surfing, 
and the karate... it's physical smarts, but it's intelligence. 
You must be as smart as Aaron is. Like Trish is as strong as 
he is. '
Toshiro looked at him, a touch of reserve leashing the 
energy in the black eyes. 'So?'


'So why do you both follow him? He calls the shots, 
doesn't he?'
Toshiro paused, and Edgar thought that he saw the 
muscles along his jaw bunching tightly. Then his friend 
and teacher relaxed. 'I guess I'm a little like Justin, ' he 
said. 'Neither of us wants to be a leader. Justin doesn't 
think anybody has to be leader. I'm realistic, but it won't 
be me. Give me the sand and the sun. And time to work 
on the old Samurai stuff. Hat!'
Toshiro's left foot whipped up and at Edgar's jaw. That 
wasn't full speed... Edgar was thinking and then realized 
that he had blocked it, automatically, with his right hand.
Toshiro smiled. 'Some must be students. Otherwise 
there could be no teachers. Who wants to live in such a 
world?'


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16 - Three Seductions
The surest way to prevent seditions (if the times do 
bear it) is to take away the matter of them.
Francis Bacon, 'Of Seditions and Troubles',
Essays (1612)
Weeks passed, and a semblance of normality returned to 
the colony. The Star Born mostly brooded at Surf's Up 
and avoided interacting with the Earth Born. Justin stayed at 
the Bluff. When Jessica came home from Surf's Up she 
rarely spoke to her parents, although Cadmann tried to 
reach out to her.
Then, on a day when Geographics satellites warned 
that storm clouds were sweeping in from the mainland, 
Jessica called her father to ask if she could come for dinner. 
There was no mention during the call of any of the 
unpleasantness. In fact, there had been little public protest at 
Zack's proclamation. And that, in itself, should have 
warned them.
Ruth Moskowitz adjusted her chamels harness for a little 
more give around the shoulders. The beast's name was 
Tarzan. All six of the tamed chamels were males. The 
females were too large and irritable to domesticate, and 
they'd captured only one before the expeditions into the 
forests northeast of Deadwood Pass had ceased.


Male chamels were horse-sized and had the exagger-
ated grace of a praying mantis. They were intelligent and 
fast, with excellent pack instincts. Only three of them 
were really tamed, but there was every evidence that 
Tarzan and the other two might just be the first of thou-
sands. There were some very special reasons why tamed 
chamels might be ideal hunting mounts.
Ruth had never seen a kangaroo, although the Chakas 
were thinking of developing one from the fertilized ova 
banks, but Tarzan reminded her of those in Cassandra's 
pictures. Tarzan looked like a kangaroo with feathery 
antennae and stronger forelegs. He was tan with a greenish 
tinge, but his back was changing colour even now to 
match Ruth's blue denim outfit.
Tarzan balanced himself on his strong hindlegs and 
reached around to snap at her irritably. She tugged her 
reins expertly, and spurred him with heels to the ribs. He 
whistled in exasperation and galloped around the corral 
for the fiftieth time that day.
She wove him in between carefully-spaced stakes, 
wheeled him, jumped him first over a low gate and then 
over one a metre in height. They were into golden grass 
now, and Tarzan's coat was turning to gold.
Chamels jump oddly. They would hit the ground, sink, 
seem to pause for an instant, and then unwind from that 
deep crouch and spring into the air as if from a standing 
position. Their hindlegs are so powerful that they land 
with no shock at all. She loved Tarzan, and everything 
about training him.
She and Tarzan were getting into a rhythm now, speed-
ing around the four-hundred-metre perimeter exhilarat-
ingly fast, occasionally dipping into the centre of the pen 
to try weaving and jumping manoeuvres.
She finally began to register a flat, regular clapping 
sound. Flushed and sweating, she turned in the saddle to


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see Aaron Tragon, mounted on a grey horse, just the other 
side of the gate.
'Bravo, ' he said, striking his palms together.
She smiled shyly and trotted Tarzan over to him. 
Aaron's horse was a mare, a quarterhorse named Zodiac 
with a raucous disposition. The mare tossed her mottled 
head and eyed Tarzan suspiciously. Horses and chamels 
existed in an uneasy truce at best.
'You're really bringing him along, ' Aaron said. His 
golden hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore a 
loose buccaneer-style shirt cut almost to the navel, criss-
crossed with leather thongs. His lips were half-opened in a 
lazy smile.
'What brings you out this way?' Ruth asked. 'I thought 
you were out at Surf's Up. '	"
'Man does not live by wave alone, ' he laughed.
'So what brings you here?'
He looked at her for about thirty seconds without 
speaking, and Ruth felt her cheeks start to burn. She had 
to look away.
'To tell you the truth, I just wanted to ask you on a 
picnic. '
She snapped her head up. Her throat felt constricted. 
'Me?'
'Sure. We had a great catch last week, and we've 
smoked it. I made fresh bread last night, and I have 
enough sandwiches for a small army. You look hungry 
enough for a division. '
She felt her heart speed up, had the terrible, crazy 
thought that she must be dreaming. She felt as if she were 
falling down a deep well, and made a powerful effort of 
will to bring herself up sharp.
'Well?' he asked. There was a world of insinuation in 
his question. His eyes twinkled. 'I tell you what, ' he said. 
'I'll race you to the grove. '


'Winner?' she asked.
'Takes all, ' he answered, and her cheeks burned again.
Edgar Sikes slept alone in his room off Comm Control. He 
had another domicile, out at Surf's Up, but spent little 
time there. Most of his personal possessions - such as 
they were - were here in his little cubbyhole. It was clut-
tered and overstuffed. He rarely had visitors. Most of the 
time he was in the computer centre or in his room reading. 
He'd been reading a James Bond metabook when he'd 
fallen asleep.
Something hit his door three times, hard enough to 
rattle it. He sat up with visions of SMERSH assassins 
dancing through his head.
Trish Chance was an impressive sight. A hundred and 
eighty centimetres of brown-skinned, feminine muscle, her 
body was almost - but not quite - a parody of the female 
form. When he opened the door she brushed past him, 
buttocks sliding pleasantly across his as if she were dancing 
with an inexpert partner. She turned as if posing. The 
muscles in her arms and shoulders shifted and separated 
like the coils of a spring.
In the crowded environs of this room, she was damned 
near overpowering. The only girl who had shared a bed 
with Edgar Sikes, once and nevermore. She smiled at him, 
and closed the door behind her.
She wore a form-fitting pair of black denims and a 
white ruffled shirt so tight across the chest that her breasts 
threatened to explode through the cloth. She smiled at 
him, lips curling up at the corners like a jungle cat who 
has spotted something extremely edible.
Edgar's throat tightened until he could barely swallow. 
'Ah - hi, Trish, ' he said, startled by his own daring. Why 
was she looking at him like that?
She crossed the room, sitting beside him on his narrow


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cot. It creaked at their combined weight. He sat, too, and 
her thigh was only a couple of centimetres from his. She 
wore some kind of sweet, musky oiled essence. Her skin 
had a soft, almost golden sheen in the dim light.
Trish was part of Aaron's inner circle. What was she 
doing here? 'Is there something I can... do for you?'
In answer she leaned forward. What happened next 
was so shocking and so powerful that when she finally 
pulled back it took almost a full minute for his brain to get 
back into gear. He had never been kissed like that. His 
experience with kissing - or anything else to do with 
women - was scant. Yet he would have wagered either 
kidney that no more thorough kiss had ever been given -or 
gratefully received - in the history of the universe.
He leaned forward urgently, hands questing for some-
thing to hold on to - preferably Trish's extraordinary 
breasts. She held him away gently but firmly. In that 
instant he verified what he had always suspected that Trish 
was much stronger than he was. Why didn't that make 
him less a man?
Because his masculinity was so painfully self-evident 
that it could have withstood anything short of a hurricane 
without withering noticeably; and because Trish was say-
ing, 'You're going to get everything that you want - and 
more. ' Her hand slid between his legs. She started a silky 
stroking movement.
He whined. He hated to hear the sound of it coming 
from his own throat, but undeniably, there it was. Oh, 
God - he hoped he didn't start to whimper and beg.
'Please... ' he whimpered. Maybe strong women liked 
whimpering. He was in a state to try anything. Dammit, she 
wouldn't let him any closer. If she kept stroking like that, in 
another moment it wasn't going to make any differ-
She stopped, fingertips still touching. He felt like a violin 
string in the last moments of a Vivaldi concerto. A


weird notion danced through his head: that Trish in his 
room was some last legacy from what he could not cease 
to remember as a neat array of clean bones... from the 
woman who would have been his father's wife. For just 
this once, for Linda, he would believe in life after death.
'First, ' she said softly. 'First I need to know what kind 
of man you are. '
'Whatever kind you want, ' he said, and believed he 
meant it.
'I want to know, ' she said, and her eyes bored into 
him. 'I want to know if you're the kind who believes in 
revenge. '
He withered. She couldn't know why. And he was 
thinking again. Not Linda. Aaron must have sent her; 
nothing else could have. And Edgar Sikes did believe in 
revenge.
Oh God. Her hand felt so good. She smelled so good. It 
had been so long. He pulled back a little to see her face.
'Yes, ' he said. On Aaron Tragon!
'Good, ' she said, and began to unbutton her blouse. 
'There's something that Aaron wants you to do. '
'Aaron... ?' he asked inanely. But then she had bent 
him back flat on the bed, and her hands were unbuckling 
his belt with practised precision, and her left nipple was in 
his mouth. And all he could think of was: /'// believe in the 
Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny, or Dianetics... but not in 
Aaron Tragon. But Trish, Trish, you don't have to know 
that! Not ever.
Ruth could see that Aaron was reining Zodiac back, let-
ting her win. Chamels weren't quite as fast as horses and 
Aaron was a fine horseman, but by the time they were 
halfway across the ploughed field, she knew that she was 
going to win.
She knew it. Knew it! Well, whatever his little joke


247    !
246
 


was, she was going to get full measure of satisfaction from 
her victory. She'd make him take her to one of the noto-
rious Surf's Up bashes, that's what she'd do. She would 
arrive with him, on his arm-
'Hiyahhh! She looked around and saw that Aaron had 
suddenly stopped playing. He was letting Zodiac have her 
way, and the mare was charging powerfully, head down, 
feet digging into the soil and ripping up great clods of 
earth. Aaron bent into the saddle, urging the Appaloosa 
on and on.
Ruth heard a little yip of fright escape her throat. For a 
time Tarzan kept his head, and then Aaron slipped past 
just as they entered the shadow of the grove, and she had 
lost.
She reared Tarzan around and brought him to a halt. 
One thing at least: chamels could change direction or stop 
faster than horses. She slipped from his back and patted 
his muzzle, calming him, stroked the great, trembling 
hindlegs. Tarzan stretched and folded down into a sitting 
position. Where shadows dappled his back, his colour had 
begun to change.
Aaron returned on foot, leading Zodiac by the reins.
'You know, ' he said, 'I think that chamels will actually 
be better for hunting than horses. They're more flexible in 
the brush. '
'And almost as fast on the straight, ' she said.
He was very close to her. God, her whole body was 
shaking. She wasn't certain that they had ever been this 
close together. Not alone, anyway. He was breathing very 
hard and sweating. His sweat smelled very... male.
'So, ' she said, a little frightened by her own daring, 
'exactly what reward do you claim?'
He leaned nearer until she thought that he was going to 
kiss her. She moistened her lips, and tilted her face up, and


when his face was only a centimetre away, he said: 'I want 
you to serve the food. '
She felt her face drop, her entire body freeze with dis-
appointment.
Then he added. 'First. '
They spread the picnic blanket. Aaron handed her his 
backpack.
Her hands were shaking. She was trying so hard to do 
everything perfectly, to bring a dancer's grace to each tiny 
motion. But every part of her was too aware that he was 
watching, every centimetre of her skin was too sensitive, 
felt his touch even though they were a metre apart. She 
kept speeding up and he, with infinite patience, kept 
reminding her to slow down.
'We have all the time in the world, ' he said.
She set out the carefully packed plates, and the carefully 
wrapped food, and the carefully wrapped utensils. 
'Slowly, ' he said. 'You have to make sure that everything 
is in its place. Everything is exactly where it needs to be. '
She nodded, feeling feverishly hot.
They ate. There was no moment when his eyes met 
hers, and she wanted to scream, wanted to throw the food 
down and throw herself into his arms, wanted to feel his 
lips and hands and tongue all over her body, just like 
she'd read in the books, seen in the holos. She longed to 
do the same for him. Please God, please, let this be the 
time, now, here...
But her silent pleas went unheard. He continued to 
concentrate on his food, eating as slowly and carefully as if 
it were a tea party.
She watched his hands. So large and strong. They 
moved with such certainty. Such strength. Hands like that 
could do anything, could take anything that they wanted.
She thought she was going to die.


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249
 


Please...
'Excuse me, ' he broke the silence for the first time in 
five agonizing minutes.
... touch...
'Would you hand me the butter?'
... me. I love you so...
She nodded silently, and grasped the small platter, 
extending it to him. His hand reached out, and their fin-
gers met.
And their eyes. And she was falling forward.
And then their lips.
And then it was everything, every moment she had 
hoped for, so exhilarating that even the brief, sharp pain 
as he eased into her only increased the impact as dream 
crossed over into reality. A fierce, tender, laughing, tearful, 
all-consuming experience.
His lips and tongue. And God, his hands. So gentle. So 
strong.
Hands like his could do anything. Take anything they 
wanted.
She thought she was going to die.
Trish Chance was bored. Aaron had a plan, sure he did, 
but right now his plan was to do nothing... and meanwhile 
they were trapped on the island, unable to go to the 
mainland, under suspicion but forced to be polite to the 
First.
Trish left Comm Control wearing a wide grin. Smile 
and smile and be a villain, she thought. She didn't have to 
spend all her hours sulking. Edgar was an eager student -
and so grateful, too. And everyone was so surprised! 
Comm Control was centrally located, which meant it was 
near everyone's place, and if Trish kept visiting Edgar 
everyone on the island was going to know it.


Her grin faded when she saw Carolyn McAndrews 
approaching with a purposeful look. Carolyn had tried to 
adopt Trish in the early days when no one was quite sure 
how to raise the Bottle Babies. Trish had been ten years 
old and eager to have a permanent home rather than the 
communal nursery. But not that eager, not in that home.
Now Carolyn was coming at her. 'Trish!' she called.
Trish slowed, hoisted a smile into place. 'Hi, Carolyn. '
'Have you got a minute to talk?'
'Sure. What's up?'
Carolyn quietened as Julia Chang Hortha and Manny 
Halperin strolled past in deep conversation. When they 
were out of earshot, she said: 'I'm sorry things didn't work 
out for us, earlier-'
'It was a long time ago, Carolyn, and you had your 
own children to take care of. I can't blame you for putting 
them first. '
'Did I? I suppose I did, ' Carolyn said. 'It comes of - of 
living alone. Trish, I think you've fallen into a - well, a 
kind of role. '
'A role?' Trish was genuinely puzzled. 'What kind of 
role?'
'You and Edgar. And before that, Derik, and Terry -
you were their first, sort of the initiator. '
Trish giggled. 'I guess I kind of fell into that, yes. Edgar 
too. ' Her smile went exotic and mysterious. She assumed 
a thick and flagrantly faux accent. 'I like to teach the 
young ones zee arts of love. '
She laughed, then let it die when Carolyn didn't join in. 'I 
did that, Trish. I slept with any man who didn't have a 
partner. None who did, at least not that I knew of, but a 
lot of men. And look what it got me. '
Trish shrugged, genuinely missing the point.
'I'm alone, Trish. '
'What do you mean, alone? Everybody likes you. '


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251
 


Nobody listens to you, she thought, but who would? 
Smile and smile... 'You're one of the heroes of the 
Grendel Wars. Carolyn and the horses. '
'Trish, every man would sleep with me, but none of 
them wanted to take me down the rapids. Now I'm getting 
old, and no one wants to live with me. '
Sudden understanding. She must think she's my 
mother. 'Oh, that. That's not what I'm looking for, 
Carolyn. '
Carolyn grasped her arm. Trish looked at the hand, 
and decided to let it remain there.
'Trish, it's a bad thing to be alone. Don't you want to 
belong to someone? To have someone who belongs to 
you? You have nothing but casual relationships-'
She laughed in Carolyn's face. In a world with fewer 
than five hundred people, there is no such thing as a 
casual relationship. We're all family. '
'Imagine yourself alone, with no defenders, at my age, ' 
said Carolyn.
Trish was incredulous. 'Defenders? Defend from what? 
Do you think I'm going to starve in the snow without a 
man to protect me? Nobody starves on Avalon. Nobody 
goes without. And I'm tougher than I look, lady. I'm 
stronger than almost any man here - and men aren't any 
better at hunting or producing or anything else than 
women are. Didn't you get the word? There was this thing 
called the Industrial Revolution. That made us equals, 
that and Zack Moskowitz's grendel guns. And then there 
was birth control. Maybe your mother forgot to mention it 
to you. '
Carolyn smiled, not a thin smile but with genuine 
warmth. 'You might be surprised at what my mother 
taught me. And Trish, dear, my sister and I did win places 
on this expedition, and we didn't owe a damn' thing to 
any man for that, either!'


'That's the spirit. I have to go now. '
'No, wait, this is important. Trish - it's a terrible thing 
to be alone-'
'It's also a terrible thing to have ice on your mind, ' 
Trish said, and made as if to leave. Carolyn blocked her 
path, but Trish knew that she had scored a direct hit, and 
for the first time felt a tiny trace of remorse. She wiped it 
from her mind. Who gave her the right to lecture me on 
morals?
'I don't seem to be explaining this very well, ' Carolyn 
said. 'I know they call me a hysteric, but there's more to 
this than you think. ' She struggled for words. 'Sometimes 
hysteria has nothing to do with ice crystals in the brain. '
Change in conversational direction, or change in tac-
tics? 'Sure, you can be scared into it. What was it that got 
you, Carolyn? Grendel fever? Seems to have done it for 
everyone else. '
'No, not grendels. That was awful, but... it was ear-
lier, Trish. When Ernst came out of cold sleep and he was a 
m-moron, and he barely remembered m-me. And old 
friends were dropping dead all around me. It turned out 
half of us were damaged and we couldn't be sure of the 
rest... It was Hibernation Instability. Ice on our minds, 
we said. We were trying to be polite!' Her eyes defocused, 
as if she had forgotten she was talking to another person. 
'We were trying to be polite... '
Trish had heard it before, too many times. This wasn't 
insulting, it was pitiful, and just plain boring. 'Excuse me, 
Carolyn. ' She pushed past the older woman. 'I'm almost 
sure I have something to do, somewhere else. '
'I'm trying to help you, ' Carolyn said. 'You're playing 
with something you don't understand. '
'And you do?'
'I understand more than you do. '
'Carolyn, I doubt that. '


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'I know you do. When I was your age I was sure I 
knew everything, too. '
'And you didn't?'
'Of course not. '
'But that was back on Earth. I've watched some of the 
old Earth dramas. I once did sixty hours straight of 
General Hospital! That was Earth, Carolyn, and this is 
Avalon, and life isn't like that any more!'
Carolyn laughed. 'It never was like that, but never 
mind. Trish, I know this much. Men and women don't see 
sex the same way, and that's wired into our brains. It's not 
something you can ignore just because you want to. Trish, I 
know. '
'Then I guess I'll just have to find out, won't I? Excuse 
me-' She started to walk away at a fast pace, too fast for 
Carolyn to catch up without running.
Behind her Carolyn was still talking to herself. 'We'd 
jumped light years between stars, the whole universe was 
ours for the taking, and it was all going wrong. Ice on our 
minds... '
'More greens?' Mary Ann said, too briskly. A bright and 
terrible smile had glazed her face during the entire visit. 
Only when she kept herself busy did it fall away, did a 
genuine mask of concentration replace it.
She served her family, bustling about as if work were 
the only thing that stood between herself and damnation. 
The very constancy of her motion was an irritant to 
Jessica. 'Mom, ' she said. 'Please. Let me help you. '
Mary Ann turned and her expression was diamond-
clear and hard, and just as emotionless. 'No. No, dear. I 
think you've done enough, don't you?'
Cadmann sat next to Justin. Without anyone saying 
anything explicit, a line had been drawn in the house.


'I was in the arboretum a little while ago, ' Cadmann 
said, 'I noticed that some of the cacti stems are broken. '
Jessica shrugged.
'Do you know anything about that?'
'Not particularly. ' She avoided his eyes.
'I've been told that a powerful hallucinogen can be pro-
duced by its leaves. '
'Really?'
'Yes. Katya said that once. I believe that Aaron is the 
real expert. '
Justin felt his stomach knot. The subject had been 
approached from a dozen different directions over the 
past weeks.
Sylvia was very quiet. Mary Ann had politely but 
firmly excluded her from most of the kitchen duties. She 
smiled and whirled, bringing pans of biscuits and rolls 
and an entire wild turkey to the table. She had worked 
since morning to prepare everything, and she would 
probably be clearing the table, washing dishes and cleaning 
up until after midnight. Then, perhaps, she could fall 
exhausted into her queen-sized bed and cry herself to 
sleep. Justin wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't. No 
one could. Cadmann hadn't slept in her room since the 
funeral.
After steaming wedges of French apple pie, Jessica 
excused herself and went into the guest bathroom.
'It's been good to have you here, Justin, ' Cadmann 
smiled.
That goes for both of us, ' Sylvia said. She paused. 'Has 
it put any strain... ?'
Justin gave a long, sour exhalation. 'Surf's Up is pretty 
well split right now, ' he said. 'Aaron's kaffeeklatch has 
pulled pretty tight. A lot of grumbling. '
'They'll get over it, ' Cadmann said.
'They think I'm consorting with the enemy. '


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255
 


Cadmann laughed. He tamped his pipe down and gave a 
long draw, exhaling aromatic smoke.
'Everyone makes his own choices, ' Cadmann said.
'Except in the sense that Aaron suggested: we didn't 
decide to come here, and there's no place for us to go. So 
John Locke's implicit social contract doesn't really apply 
to us, does it?'
Cadmann chuckled. 'You've been studying again. 
Damn' nuisance, an educated son. ' He tapped his cigar 
against the ashtray, and his big sun-browned face wrin-
kled in exasperation. 'Where is that girl?'
Almost on cue, Jessica reappeared. She smiled uncer-
tainly.
'Well - it's been lovely. If I'm not mistaken, I hear 
Aaron's skeeter. '
Mary Ann appeared in the kitchen doorway, apron 
flapping. 'It's a good surprise, seeing you. We'd like it 
more often. '
'You're always welcome, ' Sylvia chimed in.
Mary Ann looked out the dining-room window, a 
vast northern expanse of clear, seamlessly cemented 
plastic rectangles. The clouds were darker now, and the 
first drops of rain spattered against the plastic. 'Are you 
sure that you won't stay the night? That storm looks 
serious. '
Cadmann nodded. 'Cassandra says that it's a big one. 
The first of the season. There's always a free room. The 
bunkhouse is available if you and Aaron would like your 
privacy. '
'No, thank you. ' She wrapped a woollen shawl around 
her shoulders. 'Justin - are you sure you're staying?'
He nodded. 'Yeah. '
A decided coolness there. Cadmann thought that she 
was about to say something, but at the last moment, she 
just smiled.


The door opened, and big Aaron stood framed by the 
darkening, cloudy sky.
He had aged since the return from the mainland. The 
last of his boyish qualities were gone, replaced by a rangy, 
impenetrable quality. 'Cadmann, ' he said.
'Aaron. ' They shook hands, hard. Aaron's eyes were 
frozen. Before now, Cadmann had always had a sense of 
who lived in there, back behind the blue eyes. Now he 
didn't know. From time to time he wondered if he had 
ever known.
'Are you ready to go?'
Jessica nodded.
Aaron kissed Mary Ann's hand and held it for an extra 
moment, gazing into her eyes as if trying to make a con-
nection of some kind.
Then they were gone.
The skeeter rose up into the orange-black sky. Tau Ceti 
was near the horizon, and night would be upon them 
within minutes.
'Did you plant it?' Aaron asked. His big square hands 
were calm and certain upon the controls.
His hands were always sure, she reflected. Always calm 
and strong.
'Yes. It will trigger in' - she looked at her watch -
'eighteen minutes. '
'I love it when a plan comes together, don't you?'
Jessica was silent.
They swooped down toward the colony.
Little Chaka saw the way Edgar's face lit up when he 
spied Trish Chance. It fell as he saw Chaka in her 
shadow. Chaka smiled and held up a satchel. 'Coffee, 
too, ' he said.
'Excellent, ' Edgar said, and ushered them in with


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257
 


wobbly grace. When his head turned away, Trish mimed 
Chaka a shrug. Did Edgar delude himself that he and 
Trish would be making the beast with two backs during 
this critical period?
Not likely. Aaron had ordered a storm and put it in 
Edgar's charge. Chaka said, 'I'm here in case you run into a 
last-minute glitch. If "Dragonsnatch" has to be aborted, I'm 
one of the not-many who can stop everything in its 
tracks. Got an outlet?'
There. '
Chaka pulled out fine-ground dark-roasted coffee, a 
flask of milk, mugs and an espresso-and-steamer device, 
which he plugged in. He measured water and coffee and 
set the thing running. Edgar Sikes wasn't in the kaffee-
klatch, any more than Ruth Moskowitz was, but both 
had tasted coffee. Ancient tradition spoke that a nerd must 
have caffeine. Aaron might sometimes follow an ancient 
tradition, if it amused him.
And Trish was rubbing Edgar's neck and shoulders, 
flirting, maybe, but doing a damn' good massage too. 
Chaka had felt her magic touch. She stepped back as 
Edgar stretched, yoga fashion.
'Looks good, ' she said.
Chaka asked, 'Didn't you used to have a bad back?'
'Broken. It's healed pretty well. Toshiro's taught me 
some yoga. ' Edgar sat down and summoned up a holo-
gram - an abstraction, it seemed. No, it was a hurricane in 
infrared, as seen from Geographic. They'd beamed it to 
the National Geographic Society on Earth, a complete 
recording of another world's major storm. 'This was from 
last year. I'm going to jazz it up a little. Chaka, I'm ready 
for that magic fluid any time. '
The coffee was beginning to flow. Chaka filled the cups 
with milk. He was thinking, Toshiro's a good man. He's 
teaching me karate... But Chaka shouldn't say that even


to Edgar, and if he said it in front of Trish, she would tell 
Aaron.
Many things involving Aaron went unsaid. Nobody on 
the planet is stronger than Aaron, except Little Chaka 
Mubutu. So when we go to the mainland, I carry the cook 
pot. If a grendel came among us, the last man to use a 
weapon would be Little Chaka. Someone would have to 
protect me... someone like Aaron Tragon. Little Chaka 
doesn't compete.
Little Chaka doesn't know how to fight.
The steam howled like a fighter jet. Trish jumped: her 
back was suddenly plated like an armadillo's, and she 
turned with her eyes bugged. Chaka loved doing that... but 
Edgar never even twitched. When Chaka had the chance 
to look up, Edgar was moving a whirlpool of cloud over a 
map of Avalon.
'We want it where people can't see it, ' he said. 'Or can't 
see it ain't there. So. But the fringe, here, that'll raise hell 
around Robor. This arm we'll taper off a little... there... 
matches what Cassandra's predicting. Now here's how it 
looks from Surf's Up. '
Surf's Up was being torn to pieces. Anything lighter 
than a block-house was already gone, fragments floating in 
the huge waves, or flying through the air.
'Like it? Here's the view from Cadmann's Stronghold... 
Nope, they'll see it isn't there. OK, watch this. ' He had the 
whirlpool, the view from orbit. It bent east a bit, and 
shrank. Back to Cadmann's Stronghold... 'And that 
matches the Cassandra prediction, which she based on my 
data. Aaron's too antsy, Chaka. This is the easy part. '
'Damn, ' Trish said. 'You're really good. '
Edgar preened. He was, and everyone knew it, but he 
had something else going here.
Trish likely hadn't found Edgar Sikes impressive.


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258
 


Chaka knew her style, and it was domination. But here 
and now, Edgar Sikes was no schmuck, no more decora-
tion for a woman. This was Aaron Tragon's wizard, and a 
wizard makes a risky servant.
'Hey, Chaka? Do you know about a crab that lives in 
the tops of horsemanes?'
'Sure. '
'I wondered why the grendels didn't eat them all. '
'Grendels never did climb the big horsemanes. They 
knocked down smaller ones and ate the creatures. 
Anything that lived in the top of a big one might survive. 
These do. Dad's studied them. They spread by getting the 
attention of the pterodons, who see a wiggle of prey in the 
top of a horsemane, and dive and get eggs on their feet. '
Edgar's fingers were still moulding the shape of a hur-
ricane. 'What brought it to mind was my back. When 
Aaron and I climbed that tree. Raced for it. I was winning. I 
got just in reach of the top, and something with teeth 
flashed right at my eyes. I dropped right past Aaron. '
He watched the hurricane raging at the hangars. 
Nodded to himself. He said, 'I was a long time healing. 
Cassandra was still relearning the old medical techniques 
she lost to Greg's fire. Trish, Chaka, this should do it, and 
it's set to go. I should be on duty throughout. '
'Then we'd better get on the stick, ' Chaka said. 'Here. ' 
He'd made Edgar a second cappuccino. Trish set it down 
for him, and kissed him. Chaka watched that for a bit, 
then stepped outside.


17 - Edgar's Storm
But the king covered his face, and the king cried 
with a loud voice, O my son Absalom, O 
Absalom, my son, my son!
And Joab came into the house to the king, 
and said, Thou hast shamed this day the faces of 
all thy servants, which this day have saved thy 
life. In that thou lovest thine enemies and hatest 
thy friends.
// Samuel 19: 4
Hendrick Sills winced, watching Cassandra's view of the 
coming storm. It was a nightmare swirl of reds and blacks, 
pressure zones and cold fronts, sweeping down from the 
north. Within a few hours it would be hammering the 
island, the worst storm in a decade.
The onboard barometer had yet to drop far, but fat 
raindrops were splashing against the windscreen. The dirigible 
was anchored down tight, and he was making a final check 
of all compartments. Make sure that all equipment is 
secure, triple-check the mooring lines, and then scoot to 
shelter.
Toshiro Tanaka scrabbled briskly up the chrome ladder 
connecting the command deck with the cargo hold. He 
saluted, half-seriously. 'We're secure, sir, ' Toshiro said. 
Good kid. They were all good kids, really. Pity Zack had 
landed on them so hard, but it was for their own good.


260
261
 


'All right, ' Hendrick said. 'I'm getting back to camp 
before that storm hits. You probably don't want to stay 
aboard - it won't be fun if the wind picks up. '
'Aye, aye. '
Hendrick left Toshiro there in the control room and 
climbed down the ladder to the main level. He paused at 
the door, trying to remember if there was something, any-
thing that he had left undone. It felt as if there was 
something. But he couldn't put a name to it.
Oh, well...
He climbed down the gangplank. The great reptilian 
bulk of Robor loomed above him. Clouds were gathering, 
but it still didn't look like a nightmare of a storm. You 
could never tell about these things. Better to trust 
Cassandra.
He hopped into his skeeter and revved it, spinning up 
into the darkening sky. He dove at the mountains, whip-
ping through the passes, hitting each beacon in turn. 
Despite his odd feeling about the storm warning, the air 
was choppy. He didn't want to have an accident.
There were no guards at the main supply depot. None 
were needed. Technically, there were no guard duties any-
where in the camp.
But on the other hand...
Twenty years ago Cadmann Weyland had taken dogs 
and supplies and a skeeter and begun his own encamp-
ment up on the Bluff. On two other occasions colonists 
had emulated him, starting branches up in the eastern 
mountains without formal permission. All three incidents 
had followed disagreements, arguments, harsh words at 
Camelot. The Star Born were certainly upset, and there 
was precedent for, well, freelance requisitioning.
So in the evenings it was not uncommon to find Earth 
Born busying themselves at special duties around the live-


stock, the landing pads, the central supply depot...
Tonight Carolyn McAndrews had drawn the short 
straw.
She counted cartons of Concord grapes shipped in from 
the eastern slopes.
She heard something behind her and turned. The ware-
house was shadowed, and she touched a button on her 
belt, turning the lights up. 'Zack? That you?'
The Governor had been in a couple of hours earlier for a 
sour exchange of opinions. Zack had been irritable, 
stubborn and unreasonable, wanting tomorrow's ledger 
results yesterday. 'Zack?' she called out. 'You know, 
you're not going to get things faster by bugging me every 
couple of minutes, you know?'
No reply.
She walked down the narrow corridor. She could swear 
that she had heard something back there. The camp was 
relatively quiet, folks settling in for the evening. She could 
hear rain beginning to patter against the roof and the wind 
was picking up. Good weather for putting your feet up in 
front of a fire and-
A shadow detached itself from the others along the 
corridor, a small female shadow, and Carolyn felt sudden, 
swift joy. 'Ruth! What brings you out here?'
Ruth smiled hesitantly. There was something different 
about the girl. Carolyn had noticed it in the past week. 
She walked a little differently, combed her hair a little 
more carefully. Rachael had noticed it too, she was certain, 
but there had been no conversation about it. Carolyn was 
pretty sure she knew what the tell-tale signs meant, and it 
was hard to repress a grin.
Welcome to the other side, sweetheart. Who was he? 
Was he nice to you?
'Hello, Ruth. What do you need? The avocados have 
turned ripe-'


263
262
 


'I'm sorry, ' Ruth said. Her face had changed. The smile 
had been a mask. There was sorrow and fear there - and 
something else. Excitement.
Carolyn had only a moment to think: Ruth?
Then light exploded behind her eyes. Pain, so abrupt it 
barely had time to register before she fell over onto her 
side, unconscious.
Trish dropped the grendel gun to her side. She stepped out 
of concealment and stared at Carolyn with eyes that were 
cool and unconcerned. An hour of sleep and she would be as 
good as new. The capacitor darts had been very carefully 
adjusted.
Ruth stood with her hands clasped very tightly 
together. She looked white as a ghost.
'You did fine, honey, ' Trish said. 'Just fine. '
She gave a low whistle. Little Chaka and Derik 
emerged from the shadows. Chaka bent to roll Carolyn 
out of her contorted position and push her purse under 
her head. He looked at Ruth and might have spoken, but 
set to work instead.
Little was said in the next few minutes, although much 
was done.
Hendrick was twisting through one of the last mountain 
passes when he caught a glimpse of something travelling 
north, in from the main encampment. Two skeeters, 
locked for heavy cargo, carrying a pallet of some kind. It 
looked heavy.
They were lost in shadows before he could see any-
thing else.
Hendrick triggered the radio. 'Hello. This is Skeeter 
VI. Skeeter... ' He checked their IDs on the dashboard 
display. They were VIII and XII. Skeeter VIII was regis-
tered to the kids at Surf's Up, the other to the main


encampment. He felt mild curiosity. 'You guys better get 
settled in. Looks like a bad one. '
Aaron Tragon's voice came back. 'Thanks for the 
warning. We'll be down in twenty minutes. See you when 
this mess is over. '
'Roger and out. '
Hendrick headed in toward camp.
Carlos Martinez wandered into the main communications 
centre. Edgar Sikes was the only one on duty, and that 
bothered Carlos. The boy had grown more introverted 
since his father's death. He tended to hang out at Surf's 
Up more, and talk to the First a little less, perhaps. But the 
big change was that he had become an absolute work-
horse, burying himself in his job as if it were his only 
salvation. And, since most of Comm Control could be 
handled by one energetic operator, he spent an inordinate 
amount of time alone.
Carlos stood in the doorway, watching the screens as 
they displayed images from the various satellites. 
Geographies skeletal framework hovered a little above 
the blue mist of Avalon's upper atmosphere. From a dif-
ferent angle, Tau Ceti was just sinking below the 
horizon.
Another image was of gathering storm clouds, swirling 
just off the subcontinent. The storm was of almost hurri-
cane dimensions, possibly the storm of the decade.
So far, only a few droplets.
'Edgar?' he said quietly. 'Muchacho, aren't you pushing 
yourself a little hard?'
Edgar almost jumped he spun around so hard. 'Carlos! 
Give a guy a heart attack, why don't you!'
Carlos chuckled. Edgar was definitely working too 
hard. But why so jumpy? On the other hand, with a storm 
that large coming in, nervousness was easy to understand.


264
265
 


'Everything battened down on the coast? The waves 
could get pretty rough. '
'We're OK. We can pull up into the foothills if there's 
any problem. '
Carlos nodded. 'Do we have a live feed from Surf's 
Up?'
'Well, yes, but they control it. The Star Born have their 
secrets, Tio Carlos. They'll let us know if they see a prob-
lem. '
Carlos nodded, and ordinarily would have let it drop, 
but something was nagging for his attention. What, then? 
'How about Robor? That's on our line, not Surf's Up's. '
Edgar switched in an image from one of the coastal 
security lines. Rain was falling out at the beach. Robor 
looked secure, and in the night vision its dark, drag-
onesque bulk swayed ponderously in the increasing wind. 
Everything looked secure. The side door opened and a 
man hurried down the gangplank. Hendrick Sills. Carlos 
shrugged. 'Well, amigo, if you're happy here I guess we're 
happy to let you. When did you get in?'
'About five this morning. '
'Long day. ' Ah, that smell was what was twitching at 
his mind.
'I like the work, ' Edgar said.
'Goes better with coffee, doesn't it?'
'You should know, Tio Carlos. '
Carlos nodded. Til see you later. '
Carlos left the bungalow, looking up at the sky. The 
sky was drizzling, but not as badly as it had been at the 
beach. He adjusted his collar.
Hendrick must be more immune to rain than he was, 
Carlos thought. Hendrick hadn't turned his collar up as 
he'd come down the gangplank, out of the shelter of 
Robor.
He walked back in the direction of his studio, mind


already drifting toward the work to be done. He won-
dered where Edgar got his coffee. Even if he was in hiking 
shape, and that would be nice, Edgar had still been too 
busy-
A skeeter's low roar beat down on his head. He 
stopped, looking up at the sky, and let the rain patter 
against his open eyes. He blinked.
He looked back down, at the buildings around him, 
their shadows melding with... shadows. On the screen, 
Robor's shadow had been darker than the surrounding 
night, and it had stretched on the ground as if Tau Ceti 
had yet to disappear below the horizon.
But Tau Ceti had set. It didn't make sense.
The skeeter had landed. Carlos wanted to ask the pilot 
about the weather out on the coast. He was two-thirds of 
the way to the landing pad when he met Hendrick Sills 
coming the other way.
He blinked. There was no way in hell...
'Hendrick, ' he hailed, raising an arm. 'When did you 
leave the beach?'
'Twenty minutes ago?' Hendrick wiped water out of his 
eyes. 'Why?'
Sunset. There was still light. Hence, the shadow. But it 
was a darker video image, hence Edgar had tampered with it.
'Was it raining out there yet?'
'Not much. A few drops. '
On the screen it was pouring.
Alarm bells were cascading in Carlos' head. 
'Something's wrong, ' he said. 'Was there anything unusual 
about the beach? Or Robor?'
'Nothing. Battened down nicely. ' He thought. 'I saw a 
couple of skeeters heading toward the beach. Carrying 
heavy cargo. Thought that was a little odd, considering 
the storm coming in. '


266
267
 


'Bad one, ' Carlos said cautiously. 
'Supposed to be. '
As if on cue, the rain died to a light patter. 'Let's go over to 
Supply Central and see what was so damned important. '
Carolyn Me Andrews had made it to her hands and knees. 
She was shaking her head like a big, sick dog. 'Merde, ' 
Carlos said. 'Hit the alarm. '
Carolyn said, 'Ruth... mm... Moss. Sorry, ' dropped her 
head and tried to vomit.
The rain was picking up as Carlos ran across the camp. The 
alarm buzzers sounded and colonists poured out of their 
houses. 'Someone robbed Supply!' he yelled as he raced 
back to communications. 'Get over there. Help Carolyn!'
His mind buzzed. Who? Why? Jesus... what was going 
on?
He made it into Comm Control in another twenty sec-
onds. Edgar saw his face and turned his chair from the 
screen, his lips pursing in an unhappy whistle.
Carlos grabbed the pudgy boy by his shirt and lifted 
him up out of the chair, pivoting and slamming him into 
the wall. 'What the hell have you done?'
Edgar's lips worked without producing any sound. 
Carlos hit him, quite hard, with his right fist, in the centre 
of his fat little mouth.
Edgar licked his lips. He waited, politely it seemed, to 
see if Carlos would hit him again. Carlos held back, some-
how. Edgar said, 'Something killed my dad, and Linda 
too. You Earth Born have been trying to track it down 
with computer games. It can't reach you from the main-
land, whatever it is, so it's all very, very safe, but you 
must have ice on your minds to think you can-'
'We're trying!'


'Do you think you know computers better than I do, 
Tio Carlos?'
'Don't call me "Uncle". No, I don't. '
'Joe Sikes and Linda Weyland are still dead. Whatever 
killed them is still running loose. You can't find it with 
computer games. You need data for that. '
'Jesus. ' Carlos wiped water out of his face, and hit the 
communication board. 'Cassandra. '
'Yes, Carlos. '
'Patch me to Cadmann. '
'There is interference on that frequency. '
'Speculate. '
'Artificial origin. It seems that someone has deliber-
ately scrambled that frequency. '
'Cabron!' he shouted.
Blood bubbled from Edgar's nose, but in his eyes was a 
quiet challenge. Edgar had pulled it off. The mad genius 
had faked a fucking storm, right down to the rainswept 
image of Robor. Supplies had been stolen, and the com-
munications link with Cadmann had been broken. 
Precious time was lost. What else did they have planned?
'Dios mio, ' he said. 'They're stealing Robor to go back 
to the mainland, aren't they? Aren't they, you little shit?' 
Edgar didn't answer. Something had to get through the 
boy's armour. 'You've taken back the mainland for Aaron 
Tragon!'
That stung, maybe. 'Ooh, no, ' he said, and stopped.
Zack and Harry Sipe appeared in the doorway. 'What's 
going on?' Zack asked, staring at Edgar.
'He'll tell you, ' Carlos said. 'Tell them all about it, biz-
querno, or I'll break every soft bone in your head. I'm 
going for Cadmann. '
Carlos jumped into Skeeter III and pushed the button -
and nothing happened.


268
269
 


He jumped out and tried Skeeter I. Nothing. They had 
sabotaged the skeeters. He threw his head back and 
screamed frustration to the clouds.
Wait. Hendrick had just come in. It was likely that the 
saboteurs hadn't had time to damage his machine. He 
tapped his collar. 'Hendrick. What was your skeeter num-
ber?'
There was a moment's pause as Cassandra routed the 
call, and then Carlos heard: 'Number VI. What's going on 
here?''We've got big troubles, that's what. Get a posse 
together. I'll be back in touch in ten minutes. '
Carlos raced across the skeeter garage, and found VI. 
He punched the button, uttering a short prayer of gratitude 
when it coughed to life. He taxied it across the garage and 
revved, gathered speed along ten metres of paved runway, 
and took off.
He wiped his forehead, only it wasn't rainwater now, it 
was sweat. Where was the radio blockade? 'Hello, 
Cadmann. Come in, Cadmann. '
Nothing. No reply. 'Calling Command Centre. Can 
you hear me?'
'Loud and clear. What's the problem?'
'The problem is that, whatever this interference is, it's 
on Cadmann's end. '
He had gained the altitude he needed to dive down 
toward Cadmann's Bluff, hitting the red line. The engine 
couldn't be cool yet. Hendrick had barely brought it in. 
He rose up over the edge of the Bluff and dropped down to 
land off-centre on Cadmann's skeeter pad. He hopped out 
and had made it halfway to the house before Cadmann 
met him at the door. 'What the hell is going on?'
Justin stood behind him in the doorway.
'I've got to talk to you, ' he said. He didn't want to say


what he had to say in front of Justin, and that made him 
feel even worse. *
Cadmann nodded and said to Justin, Til just be a 
minute. '
And closed the door behind him.
'Listen, ' Carlos said as soon as they were alone, 'Edgar 
fixed the weather report to get us off-guard. Supplies have 
been stolen. Most of the skeeters have been disabled. '
'Is Robor secure?'
'No way of knowing. Communications are sealed - we 
couldn't even contact you. '
Cadmann ran, yelling back at Justin: 'Bring the other 
skeeter, Justin. We've got trouble. '
Cadmann was at Carlos' skeeter before the blades had 
stopped spinning, and Carlos could do little save hang 
on. Below them, he saw Justin rev up the other autogyro, 
and take it into the air.
'Justin, can you read me? Testing, Justin. '
'Static clearing up now. ' Justin's voice crackled and 
then clarified.
'Cassandra, interference originating from the house? 
Please track my message to Justin, and its rate of recep-
tion, and give a probable epicentre for disruption. '
Cassandra barely paused. 'The main house. '
'Thank you very much. Justin, get down to the colony. 
Pick up Cheech and get someone on skeeter repair. We 
need shock rifles. Meet me at the beach. '
They aimed the skeeter into the wind and flew north-
ward. The distant mountains laughed at them.
Jessica looked back toward the mountains as if expecting 
that any moment they would part and her father would 
appear.
Aaron's hand touched her shoulder. 'Jessica. It's time to 
go. '


271
270
 


The loading was done. Radio messages from the main 
colony were sheer chaos. It would be hours before any 
effective force could be mounted against them. They had 
prefabricated huts, weapons and a year's worth of food 
for twenty people. They had all of the instruments and 
apparatus needed to found a research station. There was 
mining equipment on the mainland.
Jessica carried her bags up the gangplank. Robor was 
theirs, by stealth and by subterfuge. She had planted the 
disrupter in her father's house. By the time anything could 
be done, they would be far from land. Any negotiations 
could be carried out by radio.
It was bad. In some deep sense it was even wrong. But 
the Earth Born had left them with no options.
The door slammed behind her. On the roof of Robor, 
the skeeter engines whirled to life. The big craft lifted 
from the ground.
'Edgar, ' Cadmann mused. 'He set it up before we took 
him off-watch. He's got them monitoring the lines. All 
right. Cassandra, Code Beowulf. Are personal code lines 
corrupted?'
'Code Beowulf acknowledged. Voice pattern Cadmann 
Weyland acknowledged. Request second password. '
'Ragnarok. '
'Acknowledged. Your line is secure. Standard emer-
gency frequencies are not under my control. '
'Thank you. Secure line message to Justin Weyland. '
'Can you trust him?' Carlos said nervously. 'He might 
be a mole. '
'Not in him, ' Cadmann said darkly. 'This is Jessica's 
doing. And Aaron's. But Justin's not involved. I know it. 
'
They swept in through the mountain passes and looked


down onto the half-deserted village of Surf's Up, the rain-
swept thatch roofs glistening in the clouded moonlight.
Some small figure pointed up at them, but then they 
were over the water and swinging south to the dirigible 
dock.
'What are you going to do?' Carlos asked nervously.
'Talk some sense into them, I hope. ' He cleared the 
ridge of coast and saw what he had feared - a black emptiness 
where Robor had once nested. Waves crashed against the 
sand and the concrete pad was completely empty.
'Damn. ' Cadmann swung the skeeter north. Carlos 
cleared his throat. 'Cadmann - we're low on fuel, ' he said. 
'We need to go back and get a new cell. '
'We can't, ' he said grimly. 'We don't have time. We're 
the only ones, Carlos. If we turn around, by the time we 
get to the colony and switch batteries and get back out 
here they'll be out of skeeter range, and that's our only 
link to the mainland. It's now or never. '
'And to the mines, ' Carlos said absently. 'But is it 
worth what this will cost, compadre? They are our chil-
dren. '
'They're running without lights, ' Cadmann said under 
his breath. 'Cassandra, can we have a trace on Robor?'
'I'm sorry, ' she said coolly. 'That information is not 
available at this time. '
'Damn!'
'Damn indeed, my friend, ' Carlos said quietly. 'We're 
almost out of juice. '
The rain pelted against their windows and wind buf-
feted them. The storm might not have been Edgar's 
fictional typhoon, but it was no summer breeze. Lightning 
flashed on the horizon. A fist of wind slammed into the 
skeeter, knocking them sideways, and Cadmann almost 
lost control. His knuckles were white on the wheel, and he 
cursed under his breath.


272
273
 


There was nothing to be seen below them but black-
ness. 'Getting altitude isn't going to help us. If the engine 
quits, we can autorotate, but we won't glide. '
'Let's do it anyway, ' Carlos said mildly. 'It will give me a 
few extra seconds to pray. '
'If you want to confess all the sins on your conscience, 
you should have started last Tuesday. Nevertheless... '
Cadmann started to climb.


18-Robor
Nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle 
won.
Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, Despatches 
from Waterloo (181S)


It was a power relay switch. One piece, carefully removed. 
The problem had to be diagnosed, and new parts brought 
from Electronics. No real vandalism, just a twenty-minute 
stall.
Justin was airborne, with Zack and Hendrick beside 
him. He was almost blind with anger. The entire camp 
was in a frenzy, and there was just no telling what could 
come of it.
Zack looked at Justin for the tenth time. 'And you 
knew nothing about any of this?'
'Not a goddamn thing, Zack. '
'According to Cassandra, someone placed a very pow-
erful disrupter in your father's house. More delay tactics. 
Who could have done a thing like that?' Zack's voice was 
cracking.
Jessica.
'I don't know, Zack. And I won't make irresponsible 
guesses. '
'No, I don't suppose you would. '
They headed into the mountain passes.


274
275
 


The alarm buzzer sounded. They had only a minute or 
two of juice left in the fuel cell.
Cadmann flicked on the radio. This is Cadmann, 
Skeeter VI, calling Robor. We are almost out of fuel, and 
cannot return to land. Please advise us of your position for 
emergency landing. '
Nothing. He repeated his message, and then sat back, 
arms rigid against the wheel, listening to the static.
Jessica heard her father's voice, and then heard it cut off. 
She ran down the corridor, just in time to see Trish turn 
away from the controls. 'What was that?'
'A bluff, ' Trish said. 'And not a very good one, at that. '
'What did he say?'
'He said that his skeeter was almost out of fuel, and 
asked for permission for an emergency landing. '
Jessica's mind spun. It was a bluff. It had to be. A 
freshly-charged skeeter had more range than that. But 
what if it wasn't charged? Christ... ?
'Trish,... ' she began.
'Aaron ordered radio silence, ' Trish said flatly. 'And 
that's what we're going to have. '
A shock wave hit Skeeter VI and they jolted to the side. 
Wind and rain and an ugly labouring in the engine all mixed 
together. They plunged about a hundred metres before 
Cadmann managed to regain control. Carlos wiped his 
hand against the windscreen, clearing away condensation, 
peering out. It was hopeless. There was nothing to be seen.
'I'm sorry, ' Cadmann said.
A flash of lightning, very close by, too close. It split 
their universe, blinded them, and Cadmann let some inar-
ticulate sound of effort and anger and fear escape, and 
they plunged so low that they were momentarily out of the 
clouds. Another flash of lightning and...


'I see it!' Carlos yelled. 'Damn it! Two o'clock. There. '
An arc of fire rolled along the underbelly of the cloud, 
lightning swelling in its belly. And there, gliding like a 
great dark predator, was Robor.
Cadmann gritted his teeth and took the skeeter up into 
the cloud again. 'We can make it, ' he said.
'If we don't, can I quote you?'
They rose up above the flat top of Robor and Cadmann 
hit the lights. They were dim, all emergency power draining 
to the batteries, but enough to illumine the top. There were 
docks for four skeeters up there, and three of them were in 
place.
'All right, ' he said, 'I'm setting her down. You take the 
right-side mooring cable, I'll take the left. If either of us 
makes it, we're safe. '
The engine quit.
'See?' Trish said, laughing. 'No SOS. It was a bluff. '
Jessica stared at the control panel, and then looked out at 
the storm. A bluff. She hoped it was a bluff. She freezing 
prayed it was a bluff. Otherwise...
They slammed into Robor's landing deck just as another 
lightning flash tore a hole in the sky. Robor jolted, and 
then stabilized. Its gyros would compensate and keep the 
deck level. It was slick, though. They skidded for a metre 
before coming to rest.
Cadmann wrapped a mooring cable around his arm and 
reeled it out. He hopped down to the deck. The wind 
slammed into him. Carlos was out the other side with the 
right-hand cable. There were docking rings countersunk in 
the deck in numerous locations. The trick was finding one.
A violent shudder struck Robor, and the skeeter started 
sliding again. Cadmann backed up, slipped to his knees,


277
276
 


slid across the deck and toward the edge. The damaged 
strut collapsed and the skeeter slid across the plates, right 
at him. He screamed as he went over the edge, the skeeter 
right on top of him.
Carlos was on his hands and knees, and his face smashed 
against the metal sheeting as the skeeter behind him 
crashed onto its side. He knew in that moment that he was 
going to die.
It pulled him toward the edge, and his knee hit the 
anchor ring. He scrabbled for it in the darkness and found 
it, flipped it up and clipped the line into place. It snapped 
taut in the next instant... and behind him he heard a 
scream and a grinding crash, and he knew that Cadmann 
had gone over the side.
He was on the verge of muttering a prayer when he 
heard the groan.
'On my way!' he sang. He followed the cable to the 
wrecked skeeter and climbed around it, finding handholds at 
every step of the way. He came around to the other side and 
heard a thump. He peered over and saw Cadmann 
hanging there, the cable tangled around his arm.
Jesus. 'Cadmann!'
His friend looked up at him. Stunned, not injured. 
Weyland shook his head, like a water buffalo trying to 
clear itself, and looked down at the ocean, black and slow, 
far below him, and then back up at Carlos. 'Help me, ' he 
whispered.
And Carlos extended a hand to him, and helped him 
up.
Trish found Aaron in the main galley, supervising as the 
crates were hauled up from the hold and opened. 
Provisions and equipment, mostly; he had chosen well. 
'We've got a problem, ' she said. 'We've lost power in


engines two and three. We're running on a single engine 
now. '
Aaron's head snapped around. 'What?'
'It's true. Five minutes ago. We lost-'
Her collar speaker crackled. 'Trish. We just lost engine 
one. We have no power. '
'What the hell!' Aaron seemed to grow, his face red-
dening and his entire body bulking even as they watched. 
'We'll be blown back toward land, dammit!'
'I'm afraid so. We have the rudders and stabilizers-'
'I'm going up, ' he said. 'Something is very wrong up 
there. '
Carlos slapped Cadmann's shoulder as the first trace of a 
human figure appeared over the side of Robor.
The wind howled around them, and Cadmann had to 
scream.
'Get back, dammit. I have a grendel gun, and I'll use it. '
'Cadmann?' Aaron yelled back cautiously. 'Damn. 
How did you-?'
'Power of human stupidity. Just get back down. '
'We'll crash if we don't have our power, you know 
that. '
'No, you won't. I'll give you engine one again. You 
are going to use it to turn around and head back to land. 
And then you are going to put down. '
'Cadmann. Your daughter died. We have to do some-
thing. We have to find out what it was, or her death will be 
for nothing. '
Cadmann was tired and sore. His shoulder throbbed. 
'Listen to me. We can't talk about that now. I don't have 
any choice but to turn you around. Let's not let this get 
any worse than it is. '
'Worse than it is. All right. '
There was a flicker of movement behind him, and


278
279
 


Carlos suddenly screamed, his entire body arching. 
Cadmann spun and fired at a figure against the clouds. 
The grendel gun bucked in his arms. He fired a dart 
directly into Toshiro Tanaka's chest. Toshiro's hair flew 
out in a corona and his teeth clamped on his tongue. 
Blood shot from between his clenched teeth and his hands 
lost their grip on the port access ladder. His body arced 
backwards and he fell screaming and twisting, to the sea 
far below him.
'Toshiro!' Aaron screamed.
Cadmann, cursing, checked Carlos. He was fine. Damn 
damn damn! The children had dialled their grendel guns 
down to stun. He had been too damned tired, too trigger-
happy.
Toshiro would plunge five hundred metres to the water 
below. And from that height, the water might as well have 
been concrete.
'One dead, Aaron, ' Cadmann said. He could barely 
speak. His teeth were chattering, and not just from the 
cold. 'One dead. Let's end this. '
'You killed him, Cadmann, ' Aaron said. 'He's dead, 
and you killed him. Why don't you tell your people about 
how you did this to save lives? All right. We're turning 
around. '
Aaron climbed back down. Cadmann collapsed against 
the wet cold plate of the deck and closed his eyes, feeling 
the rain pelt against his skin.


PART TWO
Grendels
Which way I fly to hell; myself am hell; And in the lowest 
deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens 
wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667)


280
 


19 - victory
Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want 
to test a man's character, give him power.
Abraham Lincoln
The whole colony was assembled in the meeting hall. In a 
few places entire families, First and Second, sat at one 
table, but most of the Second sat together and away from 
the First. By accident or design they had chosen tables on 
the highest tiers on the speaker's left.
There was no entertainment tonight. The circles of con-
versation went abruptly quiet when Zack Moskowitz 
came in from the adjacent council room. He was followed 
by six others: five of the First and Katya Martinez. Zack 
went to the podium. Katya came down from the stage, 
looked up at the other members of the Second, and went to 
sit at the table with Cadmann and her father.
Justin barely saw her. Carlos smiled at her, then looked 
up at the Second. 'Montagnards, ' he said.
Sylvia looked the question at him.
'From the French Revolution, ' Carlos said. 'The 
Jacobins sat in the highest seats in the meeting hall. They 
called that "the Mountain". Katya, are your friends con-
templating bloody rebellion? Guillotine L'ancien regime?'
'Not that they told me. ' Katya sat between Carlos and
283


Justin, across from Cadmann. Cadmann was flanked by 
Sylvia on one side, Mary Ann with the baby on the other. 
Cadzie was wrapped in a dark blue blanket.
Cadzie Blue, they were calling that colour. The blanket 
was an exact copy of the one that had been wrapped 
around Cadzie at Deadwood Pass. There were hundreds 
already, and more were being claimed as fast as they could be 
manufactured. Mary Ann had wanted to keep the original, 
but that was being analysed as no bit of synthetic wool 
had ever been analysed in human history, and she had to 
settle for a duplicate.
Invisible death had stripped every living thing at the 
minehead - Avalon crawling and flying crabs, Joeys, the 
scrubby bushes, Earth mammals, Linda's straw hat, 
leather belts and cotton cloth - everything but one baby. 
Was it the blanket? The colour, the scent, the texture, the 
inorganic origin? The cocoon geometry of a blanket encir-
cling a baby?
Dark blue flashed here and there in the meeting hall. 
Nearly every nursing mother had an Orion blanket in 
Cadzie Blue.
Katya took Justin's hand for a moment, and looked 
up toward Jessica. Jessica conspicuously was not with her 
family but with the Second, at Aaron's table on the 
Mountain. It was a large table, with room for Edgar, Trish 
and Chaka and, surprisingly, Ruth Moskowitz. Katya 
thought it over. She could ask Justin, she determined, 
later.
'What did you decide?' her father asked her.
Katya shook her head. 'Zack wants to make the 
announcement. ' She looked from Carlos to Cadmann, 
then at Justin. 'It's all right. '
Zack Moskowitz was at the podium. 'This is an official 
meeting of the members of the Avalon Colony to hear the 
decision of the special commission investigating the death


of Toshiro Tanaka, a member of this colony, ' he said. 'I 
call this meeting to order. '
There was a hushed and expectant silence.
'The commission has unanimously reached the verdict of 
death by misadventure, ' Zack said. 'For those without a 
legal background, this means that it was an accident. A 
majority of the commission has also determined that no 
further action is required, and the case is therefore closed. '
There was another moment of silence. Then Carolyn 
McAndrews stood up. Missster Chairman! This wasn't a 
misadventure! That boy was killed as a consequence of his 
own criminal actions! He had accomplices. They should 
be punished! All of them!'
There were a few scattered murmurs of approval, and a 
couple of shouts of 'Sit down, Carolyn!' One of the 
Seconds said, loudly enough to be heard all over the room, 
'Ice on her mind. '
'The commission considered that, Carolyn, ' Zack said 
evenly. 'The suggestion was rejected. '
She looked around for support and found none. Her 
children were looking at her strangely. Sharon 
McAndrews had been at a second-tier table with other 
Grendel Scouts. Now she came down to Carolyn's table 
and put her arm around her mother.
'You'll be sorry, ' Carolyn announced, and sat down 
with infinite weariness. Sharon hesitated for a second, 
then sat next to her.
There was a stirring at the tables of the Second. Trish 
was standing. Posing, Katya thought. 'There should be a 
trial, all right, ' she shouted. 'But not of us! Mr Chairman, I 
charge Cadmann Weyland with murder! You First have 
been telling us what to do, treating us like children or 
slaves all our lives! Now you've killed Toshiro, and you 
think you're being generous when you don't charge the 
rest of us with murder?'


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'You're out of order, ' Zack said.
'Is she?' Carey Lou Davidson demanded. The others at 
his table, all recently graduated Grendel Scouts, 
applauded. 'I know we won't win a vote, but we would if 
there was any justice!'
Trish had been sitting next to Jessica. Jessica Weyland's 
head was bent, face half-hidden. Trying to make herself 
invisible, Katya thought. What kind of grief was that girl 
buying? Justin looked as embarrassed as Jessica did. Katya 
massaged his neck one-handed, but he didn't look up.
Twice now, Jessica had entered her father's home to 
commit sabotage or theft. Now she sat with her father's 
accusers. She hadn't yet alienated all of her family, Katya 
thought, but she seemed to be working on it...
Katya saw Aaron reach around Jessica to take Trish 
Chance by the wrist. He whispered in her ear. Trish nodded 
and settled back in her chair.
'Vote!' Carey Lou shouted.
Aaron Tragon stood. 'Mr Chairman, may I be recog-
nized?'
Zack hesitated, then nodded. 'The chair recognizes 
Aaron Tragon. '
'Mr Chairman, with your permission-' He turned to 
Carey Lou. 'Sit down, please. '
'I still say-'
'No, you don't say, ' Aaron said. 'Sit. ' There was ice in 
his voice. Carey Lou sat.
'Thank you. Mr Chairman - Uncle Zack - everyone 
here regrets what happened, and it is utterly pointless to 
portion out blame. Yes, we tried to mount an expedition to 
the mainland. We made a lot of mistakes, but we didn't kill 
anyone-'
'You just shut up!' Mary Ann shouted.
Cadmann shook his head. 'Let him finish, ' he said 
softly.


'But-'
Cadmann took her hand. 'He can't hurt us. Let him 
talk. '
'We didn't kill anyone, but Toshiro wouldn't have died if 
we hadn't acted as we did, ' Aaron was saying. 'I think the 
commission has acted very wisely. "Death by misad-
venture, " they said, and death by misadventure it was. 
The important thing is that there shouldn't be any more 
misadventures!
'We still have to go back to the mainland. It's more 
important than ever, ' Aaron said. 'You all know that Tau 
Ceti's flaring up. Another Avalon Surprise, and already 
we've seen changes. Eels. Weather. Edgar says there'll be 
more-' he glanced down the table, waited for Edgar's 
nod. 'You've got more on that, Edgar? Good. '
'Mr Chairman, ' Julia Chang Hortha said.
'Please, ' Aaron said. 'I'd like to finish. '
'You have the floor, ' Zack said.
'It's doubly important to understand what happened to 
Joe and Linda now, ' Aaron said. 'We need the supplies 
from the mines, and it will take years to find and develop 
new mine sites as good as the ones we had. ' He had been 
speaking directly to Zack, but now he turned to include 
everyone in the room. 'We're all concerned because there 
aren't enough raw materials. If we don't get a new supply, 
we'll be making hard choices soon enough! And, in case 
anyone doesn't know, there are no suitable mine sites on 
Camelot Island and the only mainland sites anywhere near 
as good as Deadwood Pass are far in the interior or down 
at levels where grendels live. Deadwood has both organics 
and metals. It will take years to bring a new site up to the 
production we had from Deadwood Pass. '
'But Deadwood's a wreck!'
Aaron didn't look to see who had spoken. 'Yes, but not


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a hopeless wreck. There's a lot of machinery there. We 
could have it back up to production in a few months. '
'How do you know that?' Hendrick Sills asked.
'Edgar Sikes helped me direct Cassandra to do a study, ' 
Aaron said. 'Edgar?'
Edgar Sikes stood. 'The minebit mommy isn't that 
badly damaged. It's not at the tunnel nexus - it's backed 
off into a side corridor. The programming might have got 
shook up, but Cassie's got a duplicate on file, and that's 
unharmed. I looked. Ask for Operation Restore Deadwood. 
It's all there, at least in preliminary-'
'I've looked at much of it, ' Zack said from the podium. 
'I think he's right about that. I'm not sure I share his con-
clusions but, even if we picked another mining site, we'd 
have to move that entire minebit factory-'
Katya leaned close to Justin. 'He's got it all worked out, 
hasn't he?'
'Pretty much, ' Justin said.
'Which makes it more important than ever to under-
stand what happened at Deadwood Pass, ' Aaron said. 
'But we will never understand that in isolation. Whatever 
killed Joe and Linda doesn't live up there. We won't know 
what it is until we understand far more of Avalon's ecology 
than we do now. ' He turned to face Big Chaka, who sat 
with his son down among the First. 'Sir, don't you agree?'
Big Chaka stood. Standing, his eyes were at a level with 
Little Chaka's. 'I do agree. ' He and Little Chaka nodded 
in unison.
'Everyone in this room regrets what happened to 
Toshiro, ' Aaron said. '"Death by misadventure". The mis-
adventure was this senseless distrust between First and 
Second, Earth Born and Star Born. If Toshiro's death has 
any meaning at all, it's to serve as the end of that! Mr 
Chairman, I move that volunteers go back to the mainland


to reclaim the mines and more, to claim what is our own. 
Let us honour Toshiro's memory by completing the work 
we should all be doing together. I so move. '
There was a moment of silence, then Big Chaka said, 
carefully and distinctly, 'Second. '
Trish relaxed, stretching unobtrusively, merely listening. 
Toshiro had taught her more about relaxation than she 
would ever have learned on her own. She was going to 
miss him terribly.
The vote was going Aaron's way. They'd be returning to 
the mainland with the blessings of the First... with 
obvious exceptions. Aaron himself looked relaxed, 
almost sleepy. What in hell did he have in mind? It was 
only for her own amusement that Trish had accused the 
First of murder. Then Aaron had reached behind 
Jessica's bent head and taken her by the wrist and, irre-
sistibly, pulled her close enough to speak directly into 
her ear.
Trish dear, I've got everything I want here. If you 
throw it away for me I'll kill you. ' And he had smiled 
reassuringly and let go, let her settle back in her seat.
He means that. What does he think he has? Trish 
watched Edgar watching Aaron. They'd known each other 
since childhood, been raised together for some years by 
Joe Sikes, while Trish was bouncing from family to fam-
ily... What was going through Edgar's head? Trish 
kicked a shoe off and reached under the table with agile 
toes. Edgar jumped, then grinned at her.
"... weather, ' Zack said. 'Aaron - Edgar - maybe you 
haven't seen what happened at Surf's Up? It looked like 
our movie hurricane turned real. Edgar, for twenty years 
camelot got weather like California without the god-
dammed quakes and the rioters. ' Zack was pleading.


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'What's going on? I looked through your Fimbulchaos 
file-'
Aaron nodded at Edgar. Edgar stood up. He'd started to 
do that anyway, Trish noted, but the illusion would be that 
Edgar obeyed Aaron.
And Edgar let that notion stand. 'Cassandra, give us 
Fimbulchaos. ' He didn't wait for the computer's response. 
'Citizens, for over a billion years life on Earth has been 
studying the sun. Astronomers have six thousand years of 
records, if you allow the Egyptians. Three hundred years 
ago, the sun had been around for only a few million years, 
because God hadn't invented fusion yet-'
Cassandra had two suns floating beneath the communal 
hall's high ceiling. As Edgar talked, the two shrank to stars; 
more stars blinked alongside.
'Two hundred and fifty years ago they found resonant 
shockwave patterns in the sun. Sol is ringing like a great 
bell. About the same time, astrophysicists first detected a 
supernova by the neutrinos blasting from the star's core, 
so all the telescopes on Earth were pointed at the Larger 
Magellanic Cloud before the light from the actual explosion 
even reached Earth. It's two hundred and forty years since 
we sent our first probes over the poles of rotation of a star. 
The thing is, almost all of that study was of Sol. Sol! We 
had only twenty, thirty years of close observation of other 
suns before Geographic left Sol. What we know about Tau 
Ceti is pitiful. '
One bright star expanded to fill the dome. A wedge of 
the fiery globe disappeared, and a dissected star rotated 
for Edgar's audience.
There were little pockets of conversation all through 
the hall; Cassandra was amplifying Edgar's voice above 
background noise. 'Tau Ceti runs a fifty-year sunspot 
cycle, maybe. We've seen only about twenty years of that, 
so it's really just a guess. We can detect shockwaves in


Tau Ceti's interior. They're not like Sol's, but the cells are 
bigger, and the surface storms where the shockwaves meet - 
Cassandra, my Fimbulchaos Sunspot Four - they're more 
violent than Sol's. ' Flame arced out from Tau Ceti for 
hundreds of thousands of kilometres before the stream bent 
back to kiss the surface. 'They're getting more energetic as 
we near the peak of the sunspot cycle, but they don't reach 
as far out as Sol's would. Tau Ceti's got more powerful 
magnetic fields.
'What's happening to Avalon's weather is this. The sun is 
hotter, and the corona is way hotter, and it's reaching 
further into space. It's heating Avalon's outer atmosphere. 
The atmosphere expands. That sets up jet streams going 
west, and turbulence pockets, too. The Avalon ecology is 
trying to cope with the hurricanes, increased ultraviolet 
and some higher-energy radiation. Not everything has 
evolved to survive that. Some of what the Chakas have 
been finding just breed like mad and then die-'
He caught Trish's eye on him, pretended he hadn't, but 
she could see his belly flatten as he stretched to play with 
the cursor. Edgar was looking good. She grinned, 
waited... He glanced her way, and she casually crushed her 
plastic cup, flexing her arm muscles. He stuttered, just for a 
moment.
She tried to catch him as he made his way out of the meeting 
hall. He was surrounded. Everyone wanted to talk to Edgar 
Sikes.
This was a drag. Even if Edgar was loving it. Trish 
thought it over, then went to Little Chaka and borrowed 
his code and key.
When Edgar got back to the Sikes house Trish was in the 
bedroom, cross-legged on the water bed. She turned off 
Disney's Aladdin as he came in.


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He smiled, showing no surprise. 'Are we granting 
wishes tonight?'
'There's always a catch, remember?' Trish stood as if 
levitating. She looked around and smiled. 'You've been 
working. '
He said, 'Maybe a little, ' but it was pretty clear he had 
been doing a lot of work on the room that had once 
belonged to Joe and Linda. The big ornate bed Carlos 
had given them was gone, replaced by a classic water bed. 
Linda's pictures were gone from the walls as her clothes 
were gone from the closet. The adjoining room had been 
Cadzie's nursery; now it was filled with computers and 
workbenches. The open door to the bathroom showed 
that it too had undergone a transformation. The small 
living room was nearly empty, with some weights and 
rolled mats stowed along one wall.
The surprise was that, except for the computer room, 
everything was neat and clean. Was that for me? 'I like it, ' 
Trish said. 'You're looking pretty good yourself, Soft One. 
Drop your shoes. Let's do some sun salutations. '
He followed her into the living room and took the Tree 
position - Attention, in military parlance.
In five minutes he was gasping. She made him slow 
down, stop to breathe when he needed to. He studied her 
stance and tried to correct her.
'Hold that pushup pose. Your ass comes up more, your 
spine exactly level. Now go down with your elbows back 
along your ribs. '
'You can't do that. '
'Hell, no. But I can stand on my head, ' he said.
'Without a wall?'
His teaching had amused her at first. Then she had 
begun to understand that he actually knew more than she 
did. Edgar was a fast learner.
He'd learned some self-control. When she'd first started


coming here, he'd have leaped at her within seconds of 
getting her into a room with a bed. Now - he was antsy at 
first, but then she hadn't been around for a week. She felt 
curiosity and anticipation. Edgar remained eager to please, 
and it was flattering to think she was probably the only 
human in the Universe who could get Edgar's undivided 
attention for even a few minutes. . He was smirking at her 
upside-down.
Edgar had a father. Trish could nearly imagine bonding to 
one human being, or two; never needing to guess the 
thoughts of a townful of people, each of them in control of 
a child's life. One human being, all-knowing at first, later 
his teacher, later nearly his equal. Now his father was dead, 
stripped to the bone, murderer unknown.
Had he loved Linda too? More likely worshipped her.
The First knew of his betrayal, and many would not 
forgive; and Edgar lived and worked among the First in 
Camelot.
Trish had wondered if he would survive at all.
Edgar's breath became uneven. He came out of the 
headstand slowly, one leg horizontal; toes touched the 
floor; he knelt.
Trish rolled out of her own headstand. That must have 
been two minutes. Soft One, I'm impressed. '
'Don't come down so fast. One leg straight out, then the 
other, then touch down. We done? Want some coffee?' Edgar 
asked.
'You've got coffee?'
He smiled.
'Later. ' She rolled to her feet and had her shoulder in 
his midsection before he could quite decide to evade. She 
stood up with Edgar over her shoulder. He was laughing. 
She rolled him, still laughing, onto the bed. 'Now I'll show 
you why it's a good idea to warm up first. Get your heart 
pumping, your blood flowing. Soft One, do you really


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want to get on top?' She rolled them both. 'Just one wish. 
Just one at a time. '
Later she followed him into the electronics room and 
watched as he ground fresh coffee beans. 'Smells different, 
' she said.
'Darker roast, ' Edgar said. 'Different beans, too. These 
are from higher up the mountain. '
'Interesting. Who got them for you?' Under the omni-
oven was a small terminal. The screen caught the corner of 
her eye.
Edgar's grin faded as he said, 'Couple of Carolyn's 
kids. You know, the First were treating me like dog meat 
for a while. But Cassandra isn't nearly as, as agile without 
me plugged in, and they're starting to realize it. It wasn't 
me that whacked Carolyn-'
'It was me. ' RUTHFIX, said the top of the screen. Trish 
couldn't read the smaller print below, but there wasn't 
much.
'Ah? Anyway, with dad gone they've got some interest in 
keeping me happy. Even if they don't trust me. ' Edgar 
poured boiling water into a glass cylinder, pushed a metallic 
filter grill steadily down from the top to strain out the 
grounds and poured two cups of coffee.
She smiled faintly as, both naked, they sat down at the 
breakfast table. His cleaning project hadn't got this far. 
There wasn't a square centimetre of horizonal surface 
showing. Trish perched her cup on a stack of printout. 
'They'll have to trust you now, what with this expedition. 
For that matter, so will we. '
'We?'
'The expedition. Aaron. '
'Oh. Of course, you'll be going. Aayeee!'
'I'll be back once in a while. Or you could come with 
us'


'No, that doesn't work, ' Edgar said. 'Even with getting 
in better shape I wouldn't be much use camping out. 
Better I stay here and watch out for you. '
'We'll have a base. Let us get set up, then come over. ' 
She grinned. Aaron will hate that. He doesn't like me having 
so much control over our wizard. But it's more than that, 
there's some real bad blood between those two. He just 
plain doesn't want Edgar happy. She let her grin spread 
into something else, a sultry smile copied from an old 
movie she'd seen. It had turned Robert Redford on, and it 
was having the same effect on Edgar.
'Who all's going?'
She kept her eyes fixed on his as she shook her head. 
'Not entirely sure. Aaron, of course. He'll be in charge. 
Me. '
'Why you?'
'It's where the action will be, ' Trish said.
'Action. You mean power games. '
She shrugged.
'War specs, ' Edgar said suddenly. 'You won't have any-
thing to hide from the First this trip - right?'
'I'd say so, ' Trish said cautiously. 'Aaron might have 
something. So?'
'So you can give up binoculars and go back to using 
war specs. Get me over there and I'll maintain the links 
with Cassandra. '
'There you go, ' Trish said. She stretched elaborately, as 
she did before she made love, and made sure Edgar saw 
her doing it. Now she was sure she had his full attention. 
She moved closer to him. 'What's your interest in Ruth 
Moskowitz?'
Blindsided, it took him a moment to remember the ter-
minal. He said, 'Something Linda... no, never mind that. 
Have you noticed what Aaron's doing to Ruth?'
'Somewhat. He thinks we need her-'


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'Nah. He wants her involved. Because she's Zack's 
daughter. He's going to hurt her. I wondered if there was a 
way to fix it. '
'Why?'
'Linda once told me I... never get to know anyone. I 
guess I'm getting to know you, Trish, but you, you're bul-
letproof. It's hard to see you needing help. If Ruth keeps 
rubbing up against Aaron Tragon, she's damn' well going 
to need something. '
That was crazy. Edgar could barely help himself... 
Trish dismissed it. 'You know Aaron better than I do, I 
bet. What was he like when he was a kid?'


20 - Scribeveldt and Eden Hill
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
all chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
all discord, harmony not understood;
all partial evil, universal good.
Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man (1732-4)


Three months later...
Little Chaka watched as his father took another careful
step toward the winged creatures they called birdies. Cane
first, then left foot, then right - all slow and smooth and
deliberate.
Three birdies clustered about a low bush whose per-
simmon-sized fruit had turned from blue to red within the 
last two days; only then had they begun to attract the 
flying Crustacea. With the deepening of summer, bushes 
and leaves, plants and grasses all through the forests were 
changing colour, ripening, exploding into a thousand hues 
of gold and red and deep, fertile green. Horsemane trees 
infested with a hundred varieties of parasite and symbiote 
blossomed as if offering welcome to a hundred more.
The largest birdie - a big purple flying wing with spiffy 
little white wingtips - swivelled an independent eye 
toward Big Chaka, now only a dozen metres away. Big 
Chaka was a small man, barely cresting a metre and a 
half in his tallest years. Time had crowded, shrunken, 
greyed him, spotted his dark face. His close-cropped,


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tightly-coiled hair receded from his temples and he 
needed corrective lenses to read and a cane to walk. A 
small, unwieldy pot belly swelled the front of his shirts, 
and his hands trembled when he wrote in the journals he 
had kept for nearly a hundred and fifty years.
But he could still move slowly and smoothly enough to 
approach animals more closely than Chaka would have 
believed possible. He was still Avalon's premier zoolo-
gist. And he was still dad.
The birdie watching Big Chaka began vibrating its 
motor wings. Its foreclaws anchored it to a branch and the 
branch began to quiver. A high-pitched whistling whine 
rose up. The other two birdies stopped eating and began 
rustling as well. They gripped branches with two forward 
claws, but the little paddle-shaped wings aft blurred with 
their vibration. The whine became louder and louder, 
until the trees rustled with it.
Little Chaka wasn't alarmed, not even when the call 
was taken up distantly by first one, and then a chorus. 
Communicating threat? Summoning help?
Big Chaka retreated a quarter of a metre, and then 
again, and the birdies began to calm once more. They 
returned to their meal. The distant droning died away. 
Silence returned to the forest.
An almost boyish grin wreathed Big Chaka's face as he 
stumped back to his son. 'Not exactly a colony - too much 
independent action for that. More like small family clusters 
- maybe three to six. Possibly three sexes, or two fertile and 
one neuter to watch the nest while the others forage, like 
Avalon Type 6 sea crabs. We'll get samples later. '
He linked arms with his son as they walked back 
uphill. 'And you call this Eden?'
Little Chaka nodded. 'It's where we take the Grendel 
Biters. There are things they need to learn about this 
planet and this is a good place for it. '



'I can hear running water. Are there grendels?'
'Always assume grendels. Trust me. We don't take 
chances. But there is a good overhang between us and the 
river here. The clearest path for a grendel to reach us is 
over a kilometre of bone-dry upgrade. We have motion 
sensors strung every twenty metres - nothing larger than a 
Joey can get up here without alerting us, and we have 
good people on the grendel guns. They're death. It's safe. ' 
He frowned. 'Of course, we thought Deadwood was safe, 
too. But nothing bad has ever happened here. '
Big Chaka nodded. 'Things are changing, though. ' He 
squinted up at Tau Ceti, a fuzzy ball through high clouds. 
'Things are changing. ' He walked carefully along the path. 
Every two or three metres he stopped to inspect a leaf, to 
study a scavenger insectoid hauling away a carcase five 
times its size, to scrape away a sample of fungus and deposit it 
in a glassine envelope. Then he made notes in his log and 
photographed the sample lying on the open pages of the log 
book, with the place he'd found it as background.
'You know, ' he said, thoughtfully, 'I wish that you 
could have been on Earth. Then you would understand 
the wealth spread out in front of you. Everywhere you 
look, all you have to do is reach out your hand and there is 
a new creature, a new plant. Something new, something 
new. ' With that faraway expression on his face Little 
Chaka thought his father resembled a wrinkled black 
Buddha. 'Earth had... run out of new. ' He smiled 
crookedly. The smile broadened as he spotted a tiny 
corkscrew tree growing in the shadow of its parent. 'Oh!' 
he cooed. 'A perfect duplicate of its parent - except see, 
it's a lefty, its trunk spirals in the opposite direction... '
He was that way as they headed back up to the mine, 
hobbling here and there, studying this, commenting on 
that - never complaining about the distance or the grade,


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although some of it must have been exhausting. Chaka's 
emotions were torn. On the one hand he was still nervous 
about the entire area. On the other hand it was wonderful to 
see his father every day, exploring with him and hearing 
him lecture, just as he had day after wonderful day when 
he was a child.
They were three kilometres from the mine, far enough 
around the first bend in the trail that they couldn't be seen. 
Big Chaka sat down on a rock and loosed one of his shoes.
Tired, father?'
'No, I think I have something in my shoe. Son, tell me 
about this base camp you're setting up. '
'Well, it's not so much me setting it up-'
'I know. Aaron seems to be in charge, and I have 
noticed that he needs no advice from my generation. ' He 
inspected the inside of his left shoe. 'Of course he wasn't 
offered much advice by Colonel Weyland. '
'I noticed that. '
'You and everyone else. ' Big Chaka sighed. 'Inevitable, I 
suppose. '
'Dad, it's no big deal. '
'Not to you. Of course not. But to us- Son, when we 
first came here, we ignored Cadmann Weyland's warn-
ings, and we were very nearly. wiped out. Since then we've 
got in the habit of consulting him. '
'Your talisman, ' Little Chaka said.
'Talisman, wizard - of course he is none of these things. 
But I am told you have decided on a location for your base 
camp. Indulge me by telling me of it. '
'Sure. It's something over two hundred kilometres 
northeast of here in the mountains but there's a large flat 
area. No big streams but a lot of springs and little streams. 
The flat is a meadow. '
'Yes, I know the area, ' Big Chaka said.
'Sir?'


'From the maps. It looks dangerous. There is a forest 
nearby. '
'Only a small forest, but it's a forest. Tender leaves. 
Very edible. Dad, there are Joeys in the rocks, and ground 
animals in the forest. I don't think a grendel has ever been 
there. '
'It will put you right at the edge of skeeter range. '
'Until we get the solar collectors set up, ' Little Chaka 
said. 'But it faces south, and we've got big rolls of Begley-
cloth. We'll get it spread out, and there's sunlight most days. 
It won't be long before we generate enough power to 
recharge the skeeters there. ' He rubbed his hands together. 
'Then we can do some real exploring. Another hundred and 
fifty kilometres and we'll be at the edge of the Scribeveldt!'
'That I envy, ' Big Chaka said.
'Well, you could come with us-'
Big Chaka laughed gently. 'You know better. I would 
not be welcome among your friends. ' He put his shoe 
back on and fastened it. 'Be careful, son. We don't know 
what killed Joe Sikes and Linda Weyland, but we are very 
sure of what killed nearly every one of us during the 
Grendel Wars. Don't be so concerned about an unknown 
danger that you ignore a known one. Now we ought to be 
getting back-' He stopped to look at a colourful lichen. 
'In a moment. '
Little Chaka was still a little nervous about these side 
trips. They were too far from Deadwood's reinforced 
kevlar shelters for his comfort. But Big Chaka won that 
argument, as his father usually did.
On their first day at the mine site, he had wandered far 
afield, to the very edge of the tree line. 'Chaka, ' he had 
said. 'Look at the density, only five hundred metres from 
the death site. Nothing has razed this. There are Joeys in 
the trees, and birdies and these little insect fellows.


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Whatever killed Joe and Linda also ate the dogs. Ate all of 
the organic material in their clothes. It was a freak occur-
rence. In truth, this is probably the safest place on the 
planet now - this particular lightning won't strike here 
again for quite a while. ' When his son seemed uncon-
vinced, he added, 'If you're worried, carry a couple of 
Cadmann's survival sacks with you. '
'I'm worried. Grendels can't bite through the kevlar, but 
a bite could still crush a bone-'
'You have grendels on the brain. You studied those 
skeletons as carefully as I did. No pressure had been 
applied. No broken bones. No tooth marks. Scrapes, yes, 
something scraped the meat from the bones, but it was 
small, not the teeth of a grendel. Whatever killed Joe and 
Linda was no grendel - unless that grendel had cooked 
them for hours and then sucked the meat off the bones. '
Chaka grimaced at his father's morbid imagery. So 
what was the danger? The kevlar sacks should theoreti-
cally protect from an acid cloud, or... or whatever the 
hell it was that had killed their friends. The current guess 
was something biological rather than chemical. A memory 
stirred in his mind, something from an old science fiction 
novel about giant protozoans lurching out of the swamps 
of Venus to digest unwary space folk. There were movies 
of large blood-sucking monsters among the stars.
He didn't really believe that, but invisible death had 
eaten two members of his family under Cassandra's very 
nose, and the only clue was traces of speed on the bones. 
Speed meant grendels, but how? A fascinating puzzle, if 
only it hadn't been real.
They made good time the rest of the way back to the 
mine. His father accepted little help, even when sweat 
beaded his brow and the breath whistled in his throat. 
Long before dusk they found themselves hiking up the


final approach. The hum of machinery was clear at half a 
kilometre - repair and restoration were well underway. A 
thin stream of smoke and screams of tortured metal told 
that some large piece of equipment was being ripped out 
and refitted. His father was blowing a little on the gradi-
ents, but Chaka had released his son's arm and was 
stalking bravely up the side of the hill.
Little Chaka was bouncing like a balloon. Free at last! 
He had forgotten what it felt like to climb around in the 
mountains without that damned cook pot on his back.
Sylvia Weyland waved her arms as they came up over 
the rise. Smelting metal was a sharp tang in their noses. 
Cranes and scaffolding hovered about the new mine 
shack. A dozen workers bustled about, carrying, loading, 
crafting. A new and stronger shed was being erected and 
Sylvia, biologist turned engineer, was the week's gang 
chief, and would rotate back to the mainland with the 
arrival of Robor.
'How was the walk?' she yelled.
'Great!' They were a little closer now and voices could 
be dropped. Sylvia looked tired and a little sweaty, but 
satisfied. She and her crew worked fast. Two new steel 
frames had been fitted into place on the structure that 
would house permanent, grendel-proof shelters for mines 
and miners. Atop it was an antenna to serve as a backup 
relay for communications between the mainland and the 
base camp Aaron called Shangri-La, now under construc-
tion two hundred and fifty kilometres away.
'I'm not seeing as much of the local biology as I'd like, ' 
Big Chaka complained as she approached him for a hug. 
'My son is just too protective. I'm not a child. '
'We're just taking the mountain back, ' Sylvia said. 'Our 
resources are still split. Let's just say that we'll all feel a lot 
better when you've categorized more of the life around 
here, but there are unavoidable risks attached. You're the


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only father Little Chaka has - is it surprising he's a bit' -
she grinned - 'possessive?'
His father looked up at Little Chaka owlishly. 'It 
wasn't so many years ago that I carried you up into the 
highlands on my shoulders. Now, you could carry me, 
and with less effort. ' Then he smiled. 'I suppose that every 
man wants his son to grow up. Mine just grew up a little 
further than most. '
Little Chaka glowed with pride, touched with only the 
slightest tinge of sadness. He was just beginning to really 
understand that one day his father would no longer be 
there to talk to, to share with.
But until that time, he could give thanks that they had 
had so much time together. That they had been able to 
share so much.
The Robor misadventure had not damaged their rela-
tionship beyond repair. He wasn't certain how he would 
have withstood that. Even now, there was a slow coiling 
of anger and resentment and self-contempt surrounding 
the whole issue. Self-contempt for allowing himself to be 
talked into it. Resentment toward Aaron Tragon. Anger, 
unresolved and smouldering, over the death of Toshiro.
But if his relationship with his father had been dam-
aged...
He didn't want to think about that. He would have felt 
far more self-contempt. Far more resentment.
Far more anger toward Aaron.
He wondered, somewhat darkly, what he might have 
done about that. But he had to get back to Shangri-La and 
plan the expedition to the Scribeveldt, and there was no 
time at all for such thoughts.
The Scribeveldt was a vast oval of highland plain that 
began at the foothills two hundred and twenty kilometres


northeast of Shangri-La base camp and stretched for over 
two thousand kilometres to the north and east from there. A 
long, sluggish river that someone had dubbed the 
Zambezi ran from north to south a little to the west of the 
plain's centre line. It was a river with a few tributaries and 
effectively divided the Scribeveldt into two unequal por-
tions. Both parts of the veldt were covered by thick grassy 
stalks that grew up to waist-high and were sometimes 
covered with tiny yellow flowers.
It was called the Scribeveldt because, when they first 
examined it from orbit, it appeared to be covered with 
cursive alien script written in broad lines with faded ink, 
close-mowed curving stripes that approached each other, 
merged, then diverged. They had to be animal tracks. For 
the past year the trails had hardly come together at all, as if 
they were deliberately avoiding each other.
The Scribeveldt ended in a forest that covered the 
foothills. A few year-round streams ran through the forest, 
none more than a few centimetres deep. The Scribeveldt 
and forest had been examined from orbit for years, and 
one thing was certain: there were a number of animals on 
the veldt and within the forest but, except for a narrow 
band near the big river, there were no grendels.
The hunting blind was at the edge of the forest. Jessica 
quietly pushed aside a wisp of brush that obscured her 
view and peered out at the peaceful herd of chamels grazing 
quietly half a kilometre away. Her war specs magnified 
them until they seemed close enough to touch.
One of the male chamels raised its head and looked 
right at her. Clever little sucker, aren't you? You can't see 
me or hear me. Do you smell me?
He had a gazelle's grace and the thin, sensitive neck of a 
giraffe. His feathery-grey insectile antenna trembled in


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the still air, sniffing. Would he alert the other eleven? 
Human beings were new to the mainland, but chamels 
often reacted with fear-and-flight response to any new 
stimulus. So far neither the males nor the heavy, rhinolike 
females nor the three St Bernard-sized 'pups' had pan-
icked.
Jessica lay in her blind pit as Cassandra analysed the 
image in the war specs and bounced data to Shangri-La a 
hundred and fifty kilometres away.
'Do we want it?' she whispered.
'I'm drooling. ' Chaka's voice was eager. He was in one 
of the other blinds, probably out of direct sight of the 
herd, but his war specs could display Cassandra's down-
link. 'Protective coloration's almost perfect. '
Jessica checked: naked eye, war specs, then naked eye 
again. Damned good. What did the chamels do? Scan the 
environment with their noses and adjust the protective 
coloration for a potential predator's perspective? The 
creatures were less conspicuous than their own shadows, a 
perfect predator-proofing strategy.
Strange, Jessica thought. We aren't just thinking about 
grendels any longer. There are other things out there. 
We've got to lose a whole generation's worth of boogie-
beast stories or we'll never survive.
'These are winners. Fast and strong, and senses are 
sharp. Hungry, too. Haven't stopped munching leaves 
since they arrived. '
Chaka's voice was thoughtful. 'The trick will be keeping 
the herd together. We want to protect the family 
dynamics, if we can. '
'Cassandra, ' Jessica whispered. 'Note the brush, and 
the type and quantity and maturity of the leaves being 
eaten. Special note of the grazing patterns of the little 
ones. '
They'd had to add modules to Cassandra in order to


keep up with the flow of data. That had sparked yet one 
more debate: should their computer power be used for 
information processing or manufacturing? It was settled 
only when Zack took the side of the Second. 'We can live 
without more consumer goods, but we can't live without 
knowledge, ' he'd said, surprising many of the Second. 
Everything was so new, so rife with possibilities and prob-
lems. Love this world as they might, Avalon had little 
tolerance for errors.
Aaron's voice: 'The net is ready. Repeat. The net is 
ready. '
She grinned. This was going to be fun. A week of 
preparation. And now...
'On my count, ' she said. Three... two... one... go!'
Four balloon-tyred dirt trikes exploded from meticu-
lously-constructed blind pits. The twelve chamels whipped 
about, startled and outraged to find they weren't Avalon's 
only masters of camouflage.
The beasts took off toward the east. Jessica revved her 
trike, hit a mound of earth and exploded up into the air. 
She slammed down with a spine-jarring bounce. The roar of 
the hydrogen engines, the exhilaration of the chase, her own 
adrenal flush - all dizzied her deliciously.
The chamels were wheeling like a flock of birds. Jessica 
spun around the outside to head off a move eastward. 
Chamel defensive strategy would keep the pups in the 
centre, actually making them easier to herd.
Hooves and wheels churned up clouds of yellowish 
dust, dimming Tau Ceti. Jessica fell slightly behind the 
herd as they thundered now toward the northern hori-
zon. She cleared her throat of dust and said, 'On track, 
Justin. '
' We're ready for you. '
The brush here was harsh and scraggly, unappetizingly 
brown except for tufts of tough purple grass. Even as she


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watched, the skin coloration of the beasts began to shift to 
match the sparse foliage.
Beautiful.
'Two kilometres from target, ' she yelled. 'Keep it tight!'
Justin wheeled the skeeter around the outside of the herd 
and drove a stray male back to the centre. The chamels 
traversed a long stretch of brown gravel. They changed 
colour wildly as the terrain changed, and from his aerial 
perspective it seemed the ground itself was flowing like a 
river. It was easier to track the herd by dust cloud than 
direct observation.
Everything was right on schedule. 'In position. Have 
visual contact with corral. '
'Yippie-yi-oh-tie-yay. ' Jessica's voice. He knew she was 
grinning.
Jessica dropped her plaid bandanna across her face as she 
cut toward the middle of the herd. They parted for her like 
the Red Sea. As the trike jolted through the grass, making 
almost sixty kilometres an hour, she could reach out to 
either side to touch a chamel. Damn, they were beautiful 
beasts! Fast, strong, agile - and intelligent. The pups 
darted through the herd seeking pockets of adult protec-
tion. The trike's roar blended with the steady rolling 
thunder of their hooves. They wheeled left to avoid a log 
and she jerked her handlebars to follow.
A commotion to the right: Aaron Tragon, mounted on 
Zwieback, the chamel Ruth had tamed for him. They 
burst out of the trees just ahead of the herd.
The herd wheeled, confused for a moment... and then 
followed.
Jessica yelped her pleasure. Damn. He had been right 
again. Chamels were extreme olfactory sensitives. Pouches 
on Aaron's mount carried an overwhelming dose of


chamel pheromones. Whammo - Zwieback became an 
instant Alpha. Their herding instincts and trainability 
boded well.
The trike jounced savagely as they crossed the last rise. 
Ahead of them was the corral, two metres tall and a quarter 
of a kilometre around.
'All right. Let's keep it tight, keep it tight-'
It was hardly needed. The chamels followed Aaron 
through the open gate. Jessica turned aside at the last second 
and the chamels charged past her into the pen. Once inside 
they realized they were trapped. They snorted and tossed 
their heads, but there was no way out but the gate and 
Chaka was already swinging that shut before Jessica could 
dismount and dash over to help him.
She ran up the short ramp leading to the edge of the 
corral.
The twelve had joined fifty other chamels captured over 
the previous week. The newcomers snorted restlessly, but, 
even as they did, their skin changed colour, matching the 
beaten ground beneath their hooves.
Aaron swung off his mount and grabbed for the ladder.
He slipped and fell back to the ground. Jessica's fist 
went to her mouth. For a moment, fear locked her into 
immobility.
The adult chamels reared back: unmasked, Man's smell 
was very different from their own. Two of the adults 
turned their backs and began to kick.
She had seen this behaviour before. A ring of chamels to 
protect a pup, the heavy, hard, sharp hooves striking out 
over and over again. It wouldn't work against a grendel, but 
cameras had watched the creatures surround a bear-sized 
predator and literally kick it into pulp.
Aaron scrambled up to the ladder, spun as one of the 
hooves caught him alongside the shoulder, and leaped 
upward. He got two rungs up before another hoof caught


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308
 


him in the thigh. He grunted but kept going and was out 
of range a moment later, lips curled into a satisfied smile. 
She could see where his jeans were dusted and cut by the 
striking hoof.
Chaka helped him up over the top and he thumped 
down heavily. He swept Jessica up for a big, warm kiss, 
then gave a victory wave to the circling skeeters.
Dust fluttered about them as the skeeters touched 
down, and the penned chamels brayed even louder.
Jessica climbed up the ramp to look down at them. 
'Get along, little Doggies, ' she sang to herself. 'It's your 
misfortune... '
'All right!' Justin said, slapping his hands together. She 
jumped, startled - he had made his approach silently. 
'What's left on the chart for today?'
'We've done enough work for today. ' Her back still 
ached from digging trike pits, but she had to love him. 
What an eager-beaver. It was getting easier to relate to 
Justin. The bad times, at least the really bad ones, seemed 
behind them.
'I think we've got time to lay for the spider devils. What 
do you say?'
She peered up into the sky. Tau Ceti was still bright 
and high. 'We've got five hours of daylight. Have a spot in 
mind?'
Chaka raised a huge finger. 'How 'bout the heavy 
patch, about two kilometres from where we trapped the 
chamels?'
'Some folks would say we were too close to water, ' 
Justin reminded him.
Jessica laughed. 'Older folks, I'd bet. '
'Yup. '
Chaka waved nonchalantly. 'We'll use motion sensors 
and a backup team. Thermal, if you want them, Justin. '
'Well... the spider devils seem to like the area. Grendels


would eat them if they could catch them. ' He pitched a 
rock off across the horizon. 'I guess we can handle it. '
Jessica slapped him on the back. 'That's my unbrother. 
Sounds like a plan. '
As Justin and Jessica ate lunch a pair of skeeters rose and 
swept away toward the east. Another came in with a load of 
chamel chow.
'Quite an operation, ' he said.
The fences were already sealed again. Unlike the main 
camp, here there were no passive boundaries - but they 
did have an electrified fence, twenty-four-hour guards, 
movement sensors and a fortified, grendel-proof shelter.
The shelter was Quonset-hut-shaped, and certified 
grendel-proof by Colonel Cadmann Weyland. Jessica felt 
an odd mixture of security and disgust when she remem-
bered the way he had tested the crystal-filament-reinforced 
plastic constructions...
Blackship Island was grey and rocky - just a spur, really. It 
held one of the relay stations constructed between 
Camelot and the mainland. A skeeter pad. Emergency 
supplies. A storm-proof shelter.
The waves shot foam high into the air where they 
slapped up against the rocks that day. Jessica looked up at 
her father where he sat beside her. His face seemed as 
grey as the rock, as grey as the sky.
They had said little to each other since the day she had 
planted the disrupter in his home. The day she had 
betrayed their relationship.
Two skeeters flew in from the north, their flight pat-
terns carefully timed and synchronized, one flown by Evan 
Castenada and the other by Aaron. Cargo hoists with 
specimen slings hung beneath each skeeter.


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311
 


Jessica's heartbeat accelerated at the thought of what 
was about to happen.
Cadmann spoke casually. 'Let's have Skeeter VII first. ' 
Aaron's craft hovered overhead and winched down its 
load.
Nearly three and a half metres of fang and grey scales 
and claws and spiked tail lay in that sling. A grendel. Type 6 
was the colour of grey mud; otherwise not very different 
from the now extinct Camelot grendels, but with a down-
turned double hook at the tail... and a solemn, brooding 
mouth, where holos of the Camelot horrors showed a 
demon's grin. Chaka strode up to it, hunkered down and 
peered into its eyes.
They were open, staring, sightless.
Or were they? Could anyone really say what was hap-
pening in the depths of its quasi-reptilian mind? They 
knew enough to be certain that a few volts of electricity 
trickling through its sleep centres would keep it quiescent.
The jaw, ' Chaka said. 'The hinges. See what I meant? 
Its bite gets more powerful leverage than the Camelot 
grendel, but it takes a smaller bite. '
Her father was holding his breath as he examined the 
grendel. Given any excuse, he would kick the grendel, 
shoot it, inflict some indignity upon it that would be one 
one-millionth as devastating as what had happened to 
him all those years ago.
But it wouldn't happen - her father was not a man for 
futile gestures. The grendel slumbered on.
Chaka nodded and Cadmann waved the motionless 
cargo back into the air. Aaron raised it, and then dropped 
the bundle down through a hatch in the prefabricated 
dome. If this test went well, these domes would eventually 
dot the mainland.
This dome was six metres in diameter and two metres 
high, made of prefabricated sections which slotted


together in minutes. They had spiked and chained it into 
the rock.
Cadmann cut the line. Skeeter VII spun away and 
landed on its triple-sized pad. Aaron bounded out, his long, 
tanned face intense.
'Any problems?' Cadmann asked.
'No. Not really, ' Aaron replied. A slight edge of anxiety 
belied his words. 'She's been on ice for seven hours, 
waiting for your call. Cassandra identified the grendel hole 
and then we just trapped the bitch. '
Bitch? Jessica thought. He's never called a grendel 
'bitch' before. He said that for dad.
Cadmann nodded. 'All right. Let's do this. '
Skeeter II swung into position. Its winch distended to 
lower a second grendel into the shelter. They detached 
the wire.
They sealed the shelter, closed the door and bolted it 
shut. Skeeter II landed.
Jessica noticed Cadmann's expression. No doubt about it, 
he was enjoying this. 'Shall we go?' he asked.
There was no hesitation. Chaka climbed in with Evan. 
Cadmann and Jessica chose Aaron's skeeter. The auto-
gyros retired to a prudent distance.
'Cassandra, ' Cadmann said. 'Visual. '
A square of holographic window opened. Suddenly, 
they were peering into the dome.
The two sleeping grendels were curled in their nets, 
looking almost peaceful. The larger one was grey, the 
smaller a mossy greenish brown. That one was a Type 3. 
Her tail was a crown of spikes. Her long toes were built 
for climbing trees. Unusual: most grendels couldn't 
climb.
She looked to be easy meat for the grey.
Cadmann cleared his throat. 'Cassandra, ' he said. 
'Please record all angles. '


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313
 


'Yes, Cadmann. ' It seemed to Jessica that Cassandra's 
voice sounded just a little like her mother's.
'Terminate current. '
'Yes, Cadmann, ' Cassandra said.
Cadmann took a deep breath. He seemed very peaceful.
'Trigger speed, ' he said.
A small aerosol can on the inside of the dome began to 
spray a pink mist.
Speed was the grendel secret. It was an oxygenating 
agent rivalling rocket fuel in potency, a chemical secreted 
in sacs in the grendel's back. Grendels running on speed 
burned energy faster than any creature born of Earth.
And the smell of speed was the smell of a challenger. It 
triggered a territorial response, a hyperexcited combat 
readiness more powerful than any mere hunting mode. It 
drove grendels insane.
The can hissed as its contents were released.
Above the dome, the humans hovered in their skeeters. 
Waiting.
The smaller grendel woke first.
They watched its eyes widen. Its tongue darted in and 
out twice.
'It should have flashed. ' Cadmann sounded puzzled.
The green grendel should have flown instantly to the 
attack. Instead, the first thing it did was retreat, banging 
into the wall, thrashing and hissing. It scrabbled, seeking a 
way out, finding none. Finally, it turned and faced the 
larger beast, its spiked tail raised a little from the ground, 
almost like a scorpion's.
'That's very odd, ' Aaron said quietly. 'It almost seems 
to be thinking, doesn't it? Judging the odds?'
'It knew it couldn't win, ' Jessica said.
Cadmann looked at them from the corner of his eye, 
but said nothing.
Then the grey grendel woke.


Its eyes snapped onto the green one, and in that 
moment the smaller grendel sprang.
The screen became a blur of blood and fang. Blood 
clotted the camera. They could see nothing.
'Cassandra. Aerial view. ' From above, the walls shud-
dered and shook but held.
'Take us down, ' Cadmann said.
By the time that they touched down, the screams from 
within the shelter were almost as loud as the rotor.
Cadmann took his rifle down from the side rack and 
examined the charge. Lethal.
The noises from the shelter were dying down now. One 
last sobbing roar rose to a hissing crescendo. Then there 
was a crack, followed by a series of wet crunching sounds. 
Then a single, dying hiss.
Jessica stared at the holographic image. 'Good God. '
'When two tigers fight, ' Cadmann said. 'One dies and 
the other is crippled. Chinese proverb. ' The raw satisfaction 
in his voice frightened her.
Aaron nodded. 'What now?'
'Open the gate, ' Cadmann said.
Aaron approached the dome. Scarlet oozed from 
between the cracks at the bottom of the dome. Something 
within the dome made a rhythmic wheezing sound.
'Open it, dammit. '
Aaron unbolted the door and swung it open.
The air thickened with the blended stench of speed and 
scorched alien blood.
The interior of the dome was smeared with viscera. 
The smaller grendel was reduced almost to chunks. The 
larger had been ripped open. Her intestines spilled out in 
grey coils. She bit at them, snapping and chewing with a 
blunt, bloodied snout. She made crying sounds.
The grendel raised its head unsteadily, staring directly at 
Jessica.


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314
 


Jessica raised her rifle and shot it once in the head with 
an explosive dart. With a short, sharp, ugly sound the 
grendel's head splashed open spattering blood and brains 
for metres in every direction. The ruined body quivered 
once, and then was still.
Cadmann peered inside and nodded in satisfaction. He 
slapped the outside of the dome.
'Every joint held, ' he said calmly. 'This dome is offi-
cially pronounced grendel-proof.
Jessica bent over and vomited.


21 - The Roundup
Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, seldom 
extinguished.
Francis Bacon, 'Of Nature in Men', Essays
(1612)


Justin sometimes felt as if he were tap-dancing through a 
minefield when he talked with Jessica. There were subjects 
which were simply taboo: her relationship with Aaron. 
Her relationship with Cadmann. Her relationship with 
Justin.
Ouch.
Katya had come over with a plate of beans. She 
pinched him again.
He let his pensive mood fade. 'Hi, Kat. '
She bowed and sat next to him. Her flannel shirt 
rubbed against his shoulder. Tau Ceti was particularly 
fierce, and the distant mountains wavered in the heat.
But this was safe - at least from grendels. Their dis-
tance from water guaranteed that. Whatever other dangers 
lurked out there... well, that was another question.
He drew a little horse-shoe in the dust with his toe. 
'All right, ' he said. 'Twenty-five kilometres west. Jungle 
starts there, but it's mostly fed by underground streams. 
The closest surface water is still eight kilometres distant. 
Lots of slow-moving ground animals, so we figure it's a


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316
 


grendel-free zone. We're going to find the spider devils. 
The question is the proper means of capture. Any sugges-
tions?'
All three of them stared at the crude map for a few min-
utes, then shook their heads.
Little Chaka strolled over. He looked larger than life, 
and dusty, and extremely happy. No question why! In the 
last month he had begun the generations-long process of 
categorizing the lifeforms on the mainland, shipping 
samples back to Camelot, a dirigible-load at a time. A 
labour of love, the beginning of a life's work.
He said, 'Father has some ideas about the spider devils. 
The first thing is... we're going to have to lose one of the 
piglets... '
'Ahh. '
'And I was just getting attached to the ugly little bas-
tards, ' Justin said.
'Well, go find the ugliest one and say your goodbyes. 
By this time tomorrow, it will be an ex-piglet. '
Jessica bounced up to plant a kiss on his cheek. 'Rest 
time is over. Let's go and take a look at this. '
'They're up there, ' Chaka said.
The sound sensors picked up the spider devils as they 
chattered to each other. Jessica, Justin and Chaka were 
eighty metres to the east, as close as they could get without 
scaring the creatures away. It was plenty close enough to let 
them pick up the chittering and constant, oddly sensual 
singing.
'All right, ' Chaka whispered. 'Let the piglet go. ' The 
snouter looked confused. It carried enough tranquillizer in 
its belly to stupefy a battalion of grendels; but the 
membrane holding the toxin had not ruptured. It also wore 
a collar of Chaka's design. A needle ran from it into an 
extremely sensitive cluster of nerve endings in its snout.


When the cage door lifted the snouter sniffed freedom 
and set off running. It got five steps when the first jolt of 
pain clobbered it. It flopped over onto its side and wobbled 
back up as if it couldn't quite believe what had happened 
to it. It tried running north again and got another shock.
Down it went.
'Meanie, ' Jessica whispered.
'That's me, ' Chaka agreed heartily.
The snouter turned and ran south. It got another eight 
paces before Chaka zapped it again. It fell over as if pole-
axed.
Now one very confused little snouter, this time it tried to 
walk west, toward the trees. It got six paces, and then 
stopped - sniffed as if asking the air a question.
'That's the direction, ' Chaka agreed. 'Nice snouter. ' If 
it hared offline, he zapped it, but softer this time, and it 
began going right where they wanted it.
It stopped just short of the trees.
'He's making visual contact with the spiders, ' Chaka 
said. 'Or vice versa. And there goes the music. ' It was 
louder now, and pitched lower, almost echoing the 
snouter's snorts.
'What do you think?' Justin asked. 'If an animal is 
raised or nurtured by its parents, what are the chances 
that it is conditioned to respond to something that sounds 
like its mummy's voice?'
'The spiders are singing it a lullaby, ' Jessica laughed.
'How quaint. '
The snouter hardly needed prompting. Dazed, it wan-
dered into the forest, one halting step at a time. It stopped to 
nibble on something green, then took another couple of 
steps and trotted happily into the forest.
Justin's war specs automatically followed the creature 
until it was swallowed by trees.


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'They'll be focused on the kill, ' he said quietly. 'Let's 
get a little closer. '
The brush had a jungle flavour to it - fan-shaped trees 
and spiky bushes, a dense tangle of greens and yellows. 
They crawled forward to a new position where they could 
see through the tangle of brush. Justin suddenly heard a 
snort of pain and betrayal, of sudden, massive fear.
The snouter was caught in a web. It was thrashing and 
twisting frantically, to no avail at all.
Justin focused in. The stands were green and white, 
and apparently quite strong. The snouter made a frantic, 
heroic effort and almost tore itself free before something 
dropped on it from above. Something broad and fibrous: a 
net, or a coarser version of the web.
Helpless now, it rolled over onto its side and quivered. 
They moved in from the shadows. One, two, three, four, 
five... six black stick-figures. Justin had wondered if they 
would be yet another type of Avalon crab, but they weren't. 
In motion, the web spinners did look like great spiders, 
with small torsos, tiny heads and four long, long limbs.
'Perfect, ' Chaka said.
The things were closer now, and the snouter had ceased 
struggling. They sang, and the song was hypnotic, in perfect 
tune with the snouter's own sounds. Calming. Dreamlike. 
Almost anaesthetic.
'Jesus, ' Jessica said. 'Kill it, will you?' Chaka  laughed. 
'You  have  no  sense  of drama. Cassandra, trigger the 
implant. '
The snouter heaved once, massively, crashed back 
down and was utterly still.
The largest spider devil came a little closer, probing. It 
didn't seem to like the sudden stillness, but the nearness of 
fresh meat was too much for it. It descended, sank fangs 
and went to work. The others followed and the scene


turned into a general feast. An entire colony of the spider 
devils was home for dinner.
After five minutes, Chaka stood. 'Let's go, ' he said. 
'Motion sensors?'
'Nothing larger than ten kilos. No sudden shifts in wind. '
'All right. Let's go. '
Rifles at the ready, they entered the forest in a modified 
wing formation.
Spongy loam underfoot. Smells of camphor and lemon. 
Everything seemed to smell more vibrant than the colours 
which exploded around them. The forest canopy wasn't 
particularly high here, but every tree limb was ripe and 
heavy with leaves and vines and fruit... or things that 
looked like fruit.
Just out of Justin's reach hung something purple and 
bulbous, like a cluster of fused grapes, or a blackberry. He 
reached out and prodded it with the tip of his rifle, and it 
dissolved into a colony of marble-sized purple leggy things 
that swarmed up the branch to re-form a couple of metres 
further away.
He wondered what would have happened if he had 
touched it with his naked hand.
That wouldn't be possible right now. They wore light-
weight membrane suits that covered their entire bodies 
with a thin, tough barrier impenetrable to all but the most 
determined attacker. An entirely reasonable precaution: 
Chaka had already categorized at least twelve deadly 
plants and identified three toxic species. Small things, with a 
biotoxin about a dozen times stronger than a wasp. Not 
lethal to an adult, they would still grant a few days of truly 
memorable sensation.
A couple of lizard-like things perched on branches. 
Unclassified. Cute. Venomous or worse.
They were in the clearing now. The light slanted down 
through the trees, giving a louvred effect.


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'Motion sensors?'
Jessica checked a wrist sensor. 'Nothing for a hundred 
metres. '
They knelt and examined their take. The snouter was 
both withered and half-devoured. The spider devils had 
first sucked his juice, then ripped him apart.
They lay on their sides, motionless. Their faces were 
tiny but manlike, lips slightly parted. One, the largest, lay 
on its back. Its legs closed feebly on Chaka's tongs when 
he prodded it.
'Alive. ' He picked it up and examined it. The four legs 
quivered. Legs and torso were covered with straight black 
hair. These were mammaloids, Joeys, though evolved in a 
drastically different direction. Wet-looking lips drooled 
something thin and milky.
'Close your mouth while you chew, ' Chaka said, and 
unfolded his basket to drop them in one at a time.
'All of them?' Justin asked.
'Sure. They might be some kind of hive mind. Might 
not even be able to survive separated. I'll get them ready to 
ship back to father. ' He grinned. 'Of course, they may 
have ice on their minds. '
Jessica and Justin examined the web. She was scraping 
goo from what seemed to be an enormous mat of thin 
vines and putting a bit of it into a sample bottle.
'What the hell is it?' Justin asked, scratching his head.
'It looks like a lattice of leaves, ' she said. 'They chewed 
up the connective fibres, leaving just this heavy venous 
stuff. Then they coated it with something sticky, probably a 
biological exudate. '
'So it's not a true web. '
'No. They're interacting with the environment. '
'A bit chancy. They're vulnerable to the quality of the 
materials. '
'No more than a beaver, ' Chaka said.


'Why would a tree want to make something useful to a 
spider devil?'
'Maybe they furnish the tree with high-energy drop-
pings. '
Her sample bottle had everything that it needed, and 
she snapped it shut. 'Let's get out of here. I don't feel all 
that comfortable. '
'Come now. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. '
'Yeah, right. But I have promises to keep. '
'Right. ' They undipped a rod from the side of the bas-
ket, extended it, and threaded it through loops at the top. 
Chaka hoisted it over one shoulder and Jessica took the 
other end. Justin kept his rifle at the ready, movement and 
thermal sensors tuned.
And they encountered no problems at all, all the way 
back to the trikes.
NickNack was a much smaller version of Robor, a cargo 
mover lifted by hydrogen sacks, large enough to carry a 
dozen people and small enough to be powered by a single 
skeeter. It was reliable so long as it didn't run into bad 
weather.
Cigar-shaped, it hovered above the animal pens. The 
spider devils were frozen, the dozens of plant and insect 
specimens neatly and safely stowed away. They would 
easily survive the eight-hour trip.
Eight hours as the pterodon flies. On the other hand, to 
paraphrase the old joke, if the pterodon had to walk and 
herd a group of recalcitrant chamels, it would take twelve 
times as long.
'Aaron will be back by morning, ' Jessica said. Then we 
can start them moving. Cassandra? Map. '
A contour map showing a quarter of the continent 
opened in the air before them.
'Close on our position, Cassie. Good enough. Group,


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we need to water the chamels daily, We need to clear the 
water holes of grendels before we get to them. Trikes, 
horses and skeeters are the ticket. We leapfrog ahead. 
Should take four days. Any questions?
Jessica leaned back against the log She could hear the 
chamels snorting in their pens. The males bonded readily 
to horses doused in chamel scent, and the larger females 
would follow the males. Her stomach buzzed with adren-
aline. A new adventure. What they had fought for, 
bargained for...
Died for...
She sloshed her coffee down on the ground, and stood. 
'Let's get a good night's sleep tonight and get started 
early. '
'Aye. '
'Aye. '
The fences, the generators, the shelters and a cache of 
weapons would be left behind. Eventually, there would be 
supply stations all over the southern tip of the continent. 
Forty-eight hours of juice in the fences, and enough 
weapons to make a hell of a stand before help arrived, 
with help never more than twelve hours away.
She high-fived Chaka. 'Good job. '
He grinned broadly. Chaka was just happy to be totally 
swamped with specimens. He wandered off to search for 
new fronds to tag.
Jessica and Justin remained by the fireside. Silences 
between them were strained these cays, ever since... 
what had happened. But that was the chance they had 
taken. If anything he seemed more uncomfortable about it 
than she did. And that, she decided, was appropriate.
'Looking forward to the week?'
'We'll see a lot of territory, ' he sail.
'Good find, ' she said. The females make good meat, 
and are decent beasts of burden. The males are almost as


fast as racehorses. Good stock. Imagine a hunt, on 
chamel-back. Some kind of camo shirts and pants, and 
riding one of these beauties. Sneak up on anything. '
'I've thought about it for weeks. ' Justin stretched. 
'Well, I think it's that time. Big day tomorrow. '
'Big day. '
He left without a backward glance. Jessica hunched 
her knees and stared into the fire. For all of her life she 
had treasured countless long, intimate conversations with 
Justin. She missed them more than she could have 
dreamed.
And yet... what she had done... what they had done 
was right. The only thing she regretted was Toshiro. He of 
the gifted hands and strong, golden body...
He had made his choice. As Justin had made his.
As her father had made his. And the colony theirs.
The fire crackled, grew higher and warmer, and then 
slowly began to die. It was well after midnight before she 
felt sleepiness to match her fatigue.
Justin woke at the stirring of the horses. For a bare 
moment he was disoriented, unable to remember where 
he was. In his father's house? He sat up in his bedroll 
and washed his face from a canteen. On the mainland 
every camp away from a base would be a dry camp. 
Tau Ceti was showing a bare sliver of red to the east and 
the air was pleasantly chill. The prairie was silent; the 
creatures that took the place of insects on Avalon were 
quiet.
The path ahead was clear. Three days' ride to the foot 
of the mountains, some through grendel country, but they 
had the technology to deal with those. Grendels wouldn't 
dictate their route. 'First one up makes breakfast, ' some-
one called. Justin grinned and poured powdered eggs and


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water into a pan. Others were stirring. Chaka came over 
to watch the dawn with him. 'Morning, cowboy. '
'Yippie-yi-oh-tie-yay, ' Justin said.
'Do you see any problems in working with Jessica for 
the next three days?'
Justin glared at him.
'I know that there have been some-'
Justin interrupted him. 'Listen. She made her choice. It 
wasn't totally right - but it wasn't totally wrong, either. I 
made my choice. We have problems, but she's still my... ' 
He thought about it. A dozen possibilities flashed through 
his mind. 'Family, ' he decided. 'She my family. We'll 
work it out. '
An hour later a skeeter buzzed in from the south. Justin 
frowned when he saw Aaron climb out of the cabin. He 
felt a flash of unreasoning dislike, even hatred, burning at 
the back of his brain.
Aaron. Everything that is good here would have hap-
pened anyway. Eventually. And everything bad... You 
brought. You always knew how to make the games come 
out your way, didn't you?
Jessica, still tousled but beautifully radiant, went to 
meet him. Aaron embraced her, then ast a broad smile in 
Justin's direction. 'Top of the morning sir. '
'Love sleeping on the ground, ' he said Aaron roared as 
if it were the funniest thing that h'd ever heard, and 
slapped Justin's shoulder. 'All ready a go?'
There was a chorus of Ayes.
I'm not being fair, Justin though Sour grapes. Selfish. 
And part of his mind whispered, You could have been 
the leader if you'd wanted to be. but you wouldn't do it, 
and now Aaron has that and Jessica oo.
NickNack was already out of sight. Skeeters went aloft to


assist in herding the chamel herd. Two hundred chamels, 
and ten horsemen to keep them under control. Shock 
prods and tranquillizers for the uncooperative.
Aaron grinned widely. 'Head 'em up! Move 'em out!' 
he shouted.
Someone answered, 'Rawhide!'
The chamel pen was made of nylon netting strung from 
poles. Two electric lines kept both chamels and predators 
away from it. Chaka opened the gate as Justin mounted a 
roan mare from the remount pool. They call it the remada, 
he thought. The word, like almost everything else they 
knew about cattle drives, came from recordings of Earth 
television shows.
Aaron stood in his stirrups. 'All right, we have thirty 
kilometres that've never been explored on foot, ' he 
shouted. 'The skeeters will scout it for us, but stay in 
threes! Stay together, stay alive. Nobody gets hurt, right? 
All right, let's move. '
'Heeyah!' Katya had ducked under the pen's netting. 
She waved her arms and shouted to drive the chamels out.
The males moved with light, birdlike, fast-twich 
motion, scenting the air and looking for an opportunity to 
escape. One made a dash eastward. Justin kicked at his 
horse and again wished for spurs. They weren't needed, 
but there was something about boots and spurs. He 
laughed and dashed after the stray, caught up and swatted 
it with a stun wand. The effect was astonishing. It 
dropped exactly where it was, quivered, and changed 
colours twice. Its huge eyes blinked three times, and an 
enormous tear rolled out of one. Then it scrabbled up 
onto its haunches and looked at him accusingly, as if to 
say: 'You beast!'
He prodded it back toward the herd. It returned slowly, 
damn' near dusting itself off first, its dignity untouched. It 
humphed like a society matron.


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Jessica reined up next to him. 'Shut your mouth, ' she 
said. 'You'll draw flies. Well. You certainly made a fan 
there, didn't you?'
He rolled his eyes, chucked his mount and kept the 
chamels moving.
Tau Ceti rose steadily in the sky but the air remained 
cool. They were close to the equator but heading into the 
high country, and this was winter in Avalon's northern 
hemisphere. In summer the high desert might be a blasted 
heath, but it was tolerable for now.
In fact, it was downright pleasant. There were vast 
beds of poppy-like flowers, and twice he hopped off his 
mount to snag samples for Cassandra's information 
banks. Her major task was cataloguing and analysis of 
all data on mainland animal, vegetable and mineral 
forms.
This is the way to tame a continent. You have to let it 
take its crack at you. Some die and merge with the new 
world. More are born to take their part of the future.
But all this would have happened, in time. Toshiro 
died because Aaron was in a hurry.
The way was lazy and long, the sun and the dust and 
the cool breezes were intoxicants. The chamels sang songs 
of sadness and loss. He tried to whistle their repetitive 
rhythm.
Chaka rode up next to him. He rode double with 
Wendy Powers, who often shared his bed.
'This is the life, eh?'
'No worries, if that's what you mean. '
'Right. Hakuna matata^ Chaka said.
They rode together for a while in silence. The chamels 
lowed and sang. The rumble of their hooves on the hard-
packed dirt was a music all its own.
Wendy shaded her eyes with one hand and with the 
other pointed at an irregular mound, man-high, a hundred


metres to the north. 'Another one of those bug hills, ' she 
said.
Chaka nodded. 'I've counted a dozen so far. Little flying 
crab things. Industrious buggers. God, dad would love it out 
here. So much to see. '
They passed another kilometre or so before Wendy 
spoke again.
'Do you ever wonder what's happening on Earth?'
'Sure. I guess. No way to know, though. '
'They just forgot about us. That's what I think. '
'Probably a book-keeping error, ' said Justin.
Chaka snorted and pulled his horse away. Before he 
did, Wendy swung athletically onto Justin's mount and 
wrapped her powerful arms around his waist.
They rode silently for a while, and then she said: 'Just 
like Clint Eastwood in Rawhide. ''
'Yeah. But the Indians didn't eat you. '
'You wouldn't know that from watching the movies, 
that's for sure. '
She was quiet for a while, and then said: 'When are you 
and Jessica going to forgive each other?'
'Taking up Julia Hortha's habits?'
'No, I'm really worried about you two. And don't 
change the subject. '
He shook his head. 'She made a fool out of my father. 
And then made him a killer. Not easy for him to forget 
something like that. '
'Not easy, ' she repeated. 'But hasn't there been enough 
trouble?'
'Are you trying to make peace?'
She kissed his ear, and blew in it warmly. 'Would you 
accept a peace offering?'
'How do you spell that?'
'Anyway you want. '
He laughed.


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'You know, ' she said, 'I'm not that different from you. 
You have a foster father, whom you love. I love a dream -
that's what I have instead of a family. '
'The whole colony is your family, ' he said gently.
'That's the same as having no family at all. Aaron is my 
family. Aaron's dream. If mistakes were made, they were 
made on all sides. We've got to let them go. '
'You guys. In some ways, you Bottle Babies seem 
like... one big body with two dozen legs and a dozen 
heads. Sometimes it seems as if you don't care about any-
thing but each other. '
'That's not true, and you know it. I fight with Stu 
Ellington all the time. Well, almost all the time. ' She 
smiled at him, and patted his cheek. 'If you're interested, 
you know where to find me tonight, ' she said.
She hopped off the back of his horse, and trotted effort-
lessly back to where one of the trikes was rounding up a 
stray female.
Justin hunched forward into his saddle. There was 
sortie truth in what Wendy said. There had to be a way of 
putting things back together. If he didn't see it at the 
moment, it might still be real.
Jessica nodded hello as he pulled up to the rear of the herd.
'Nice country. ' He felt cautious, and guilty about the 
caution.
'Beautiful. ' No other words followed.
'Jessica-' he said.
There was a security buzz on his collar, and he cursed. 
'Yes, Cassandra?'
'Weather reports have shifted. There is now a sixty per 
cent probability that heavy fog will shroud your intended 
campsite. '
'Is that right? Damn. What would you expect the tem-
perature to be?'


'As low as fifty degrees. '
'How close is the nearest running water?'
'Twelve kilometres. '
Twelve kilometres. Too damned close for comfort. 
Pity - they had chosen a beautiful site, near one of the 
wells. Shower facilities had already been erected, but...
Safety before comfort. We need a different route.
Even as he thought it, Aaron's voice was in his ear. 
'You heard Cassandra, ' Aaron said. 'We should change 
course. Those in favour of taking the mesa route please 
signify:
'Aye... '
'Aye... '
'Aye, ' said Justin.
'Motion carried unanimously. Let's do it. Skeeters II 
and VI - start flying in supplies. '
The air grew chill. The chamels laboured upwards. The 
flyers scouted ahead, then came back to lift trikes up to 
the top of the plateau. Two stayed, two others came down 
the trail they were climbing. Chaka and Derik pulled up 
next to Justin and revved their trikes. 'How's it going?' 
Derik yelled. He held out a stick of beef jerky.
'Nominal, ' Justin said, and bit off a chunk. The 
chamels struggled up the boulder-strewn path. Their hides 
were dusty grey now. It was beautiful to watch them 
change. They were like terrestrial chameleons with a touch 
of... well, of speed. Everything on this planet was sped up 
just a touch. Magical. The pace was fast. The trick was to 
keep pace, to think, to move, to feel just as quickly.
Aaron was right about that. They had to match the 
rhythms of the planet. Trying to impose Earth's rhythms 
was a losing proposition. They should stop counting in 
Earth years... though the change would be a major hassle.
One of the young chamels stumbled, its long and


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deceptively delicate leg turning badly. It slid back a metre or 
two, and could have fallen. Justin was off his horse and 
behind the chamel just a moment before its own mother 
got there.
He felt a horseshoe ridge of flat bone close on his 
shoulder, hard.
Chaka came in with the shock prod, and Justin said: 
'No!' He met the mother's eyes squarely, and kept push-
ing. She backed away, put her great head behind her 
child's butt, and pushed.
Together, they got the calf up the defile. She sniffed 
around her child and the bruised leg, and seemed satisfied. 
She eyed Justin suspiciously, got between Justin and her 
offspring, but somehow... somehow seemed less hostile 
now.
'Trying to gain their trust?' Derik said. 'I suspect that's a 
waste of time. They're just meat, right?'
'Not so sure, ' Justin said. 'There are lots of creatures 
we can use for meat. I think that these things are pretty 
smart, and they've got a hell of a natural advantage. How 
about hunting? Ever think of that?'
'Hunting. On a big chameleon?' Derik liked it.
The mesa's top was hard and flat. The trail lay across it 
for nearly a hundred kilometres before dropping into low-
lands again. Grendel country. They would skirt the river 
that carved that valley, then climb back again to the base 
camp Aaron had named Shangri-La. 'Exploring, ' Justin 
said aloud.
The northern wind whistled. Something hit his face. 
Cold rain, he thought, then corrected himself. Sleet.
'Flash storm, ' Evan said in his earphone. Justin could 
hear the burr of Evan's skeeter in the background. 'Just 
like the ones up on Isenstine. Secondary camp is only five 
kilometres. We're already setting up. You'll be here in an 
hour, I reckon. '


'Sounds good. ' Prefab corrals, fire, chuck wagon. This 
was the life.
The daughters of God, two of them, settled on the mesa.
Old Grendel watched from below, from the shade of a 
deep forest, fifteen kilometres from open water. The 
weirds had veered away from the river. They never came 
very close to open water.
Yet they needed water. A tiny rivulet trickled from the 
heights. It wouldn't cool Old Grendel on the naked rock 
slopes; but there would be water on the mesa, enough if 
she were careful. She sniffed snow on the wind.
Many nights ago the weirds had come down from their 
heights. Two or three tens of them had surrounded and 
killed one of Old Grendel's daughters. If those were prey, 
they didn't know it yet.
The river crabs were long gone, the local hunter-
climbers had learned to ignore her, and Old Grendel was 
hungry. If she couldn't find prey in a day or so she would 
have to attack the weirds.
They were an awkwardly long way away, but the hill 
above them showed trees; it would likely have water and 
cover for Old Grendel. Water or no, with the coming 
snow to cool her she could get above them. It looked like 
she could hit and run. Creep close. Seek out a loner. Go 
on speed, hook the loner with her tail, drag her to the cliff 
and let her roll while Old Grendel moved straight down 
into the stream.
Then watch. No need to go back right away. Would 
the loner call for help? Would she live long enough to do 
that? Would help come? What would they dot She was as 
interested in that as in a quick meal.
Weirds. The more she saw, the less she knew. The little 
flyers were not daughters of God. Rigid creatures with


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wings so fast they blurred to invisibility, they resembled 
the ubiquitous pattern of the Avalon crab, but God looked 
nothing like that at all. God was slow and wingless. She 
floated like a bubble, a bubble that changed its appear-
ance, attempting to hide itself like a puzzle-beast. God 
couldn't move without the little flyers to push. God had a 
true daughter, a smaller floating thing pushed by one little 
flyer.
There was cooperation here, as among beaver grendels 
and other species, too. Was it possible that God had 
tamed, enslaved, her own parasites?
And the little prey? The weirds rode God's little flying 
symbiotes like an infestation. Old Grendel knew about 
symbiotes and parasites. Some tiny lifeforms would 
weaken or kill a creature; some would make it stronger. 
She had wondered if there was a symbiote that would 
open a grendel's mind... but it would be too small to see.
Old Grendel had followed the weirds hundreds of kilo-
metres. She lost nothing in so doing. The river-laced 
meadows that had been her kingdom for most of her life 
were one vast swamp now. For two years, ever since the 
sunlight took on that spooky tinge, the rainfall had been 
increasing. The damned lakes overflowed; water covered 
the flats. Old Grendel had left the southland to her daugh-
ters, and good luck to them. She would follow the weirds 
upstream.
One branch of the river came near their primary nest, 
the heights where God customarily dwelt. The main river 
branch ran here, where Little God carried supplies that fed 
the weirds.
From the moment her mind opened, Old Grendel had 
known how much more there was to know. There was 
this about the weirds: no other grendel, no other kind of 
grendel, had studied them like she had. When Old


Grendel understood the weirds, they would be her prey 
alone.
The wind had picked up and was already blowing the first 
small flakes their way. The chill was noticeable despite 
their cheery campfire. 'Chamels should be all right. ' 
Chaka had slipped into a fur-lined jacket. 'We've observed 
them as high as three thousand metres, and at temperatures 
ten degrees lower than anything we're likely to get tonight. '
'Good, ' Justin said. 'There was something about that 
calf, and the way it looked at me. I'd never seen that in one 
of them before. '
'Well? What do you think?'
'I think that there was somebody home. Dog-smart, 
maybe. I don't know. I liked it. And the way the mother 
nipped at me, and then seemed to understand what I was 
doing. I can't help feeling that she was aware. A little. 
More than those males we had back at Camelot. '
Skeeters had whirled in and out for the last hour. 
Supplies arrived from Shangri-La. All but a dozen of the 
herders took the opportunity to go back to the base camp for 
a shower and a night's sleep.
Jessica came into the firelight with her arm around 
Aaron. The giant's laughter boomed loudly enough to fill 
the entire territory. He had won. The First had lost. He sat at 
the fireside and lifted his voice against the driving snow. His 
voice was baritone, and easily penetrated the driving wind:
In fourteen hundred and ninety-two This gob 
from old I-taly Was wan'dring through the streets 
of Spain A-selling hot Tamal-e...


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Everybody knew the words, and began to sing along 
with the refrain:
He knew the world was round-o His 
beard hung to the ground-o, That 
navigating, copulating, Son-of-a-bitch 
Colombo...
Justin was quiet, but Jessica caught his eye. They shared a 
smile and, at her urging, he joined in.
He met the Queen of Spain and said: 'Just 
give me ships and cargo And hang me up 
until I'm dead If I don't bring back 
Chicago. ' He knew the world was 
round-o...
Katya came up behind him and slipped her arms 
around his waist. He leaned back and looked up at the 
stars, at the constellations.
'Still pretty much the same as they were for my great-' 
grandmother, ' Katya murmured.
'Yep. Ten light years doesn't go as far as it used to. '
For forty days and forty nights They 
sailed the broad Atlantic. Colombo and 
his lousy crew For want of a screw were 
frantic...
Katya was working her hands under his clothes, gig-
gling breathily. It was getting harder to concentrate on the 
song.
Why qualify that? Justin thought in a happy daze. 
Truth was, it was just plain getting harder.


They spied a whore upon the shore 
And off went coats and collars. In 
fifteen minutes by the clock She 
made ten million dollars...
By the end of the song (in which Christopher Colombus 
returned to the Old World with an impressive assortment 
of New World micro-organisms), Justin and Katya had 
retired to their sleeping bag. He protested that he was 
actually much too sleepy to be of any service to her. Her 
clever sculptor's hands soon made a liar of him. Within a 
few minutes he found himself rolling on a warm and 
familiar tide, one which swept him slowly to the peak and 
then dropped him swiftly, but gently, into the fires below.
And finally he lay at the edge of sleep, enfolded in 
Katya's arms. He murmured, 'Thank you, ma'am, ' into the 
hollow of her throat.
'You're welcome sir, ' she chuckled dreamily, and some-
how managed to effect a curtsy right there in the sleeping 
bag.
She said something after that, something about won-
dering if there wasn't a river the two of them could find, 
here, on the mainland. He gave her some kind of answer... 
river equals grendels, you little idiot... And the next thing 
he knew he was dreaming of childhood, of games with 
Jessica and Aaron and Chaka.
Games which Aaron always seemed to win.


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22 - Ghosts and Weirds
Take, for instance, a twig and a pillar, or the 
ugly person and the great beauty, and all the 
strange and monstrous transformations. These 
are all levelled together by Tao. Division is the 
same as creation; creation is the same as destruc-
tion.
Chuang-tzu, On Levelling All Things 
(4th-3rd centuries BC)


better chance in the hunt. While the prey 
scattered, fleeing the others, she could lie in 
wait and pick one off. She'd done it in the past.
Puzzle-beasts, and something else: she 
could smell them, too. The weirds were here. 
The world was turning weird, and these were 
part of the weirdness. They, too, were 
chameleons of sorts: they tottered on two legs, 
but they could change their skins and they 
could ride floating or flying things, or puzzle-
beasts, or creatures as fast as grendels on 
speed, that smelled of tar.
Caution.
Slowly she inched forward.


Downslope, motion in the falling snow. Old Grendel held 
her breathing slow and even. The snow was melting on 
her. She was cold, and that was a rare thing. But if speed 
flowed in her arteries now, she would die.
Again, the flurries rippled. Old Grendel raged. The 
weirds were hers. But she was alone, she had always been 
alone, it was the way of her kind. She could do nothing 
but observe. There were grendels in the snow.
The snow grendel waited with her sisters. The fires within 
them were banked and cooled by a mantle of snow, so that 
the smells of courage and danger were faint. Cold One 
knew there was meat hereabouts. She knew it by its smell.
These were the ones who could vanish. A puzzle-beast 
could stand only a speed-sprint away, meat for the taking, 
and be gone in the next instant, neither seen nor smelled. 
But puzzle-beasts could be taken if the wind was in your 
face.
Ordinarily she didn't like sisters nearby. But puzzle-
beasts would feed all, and in fact her sisters gave her a


Justin came awake in two stages. In the first stage he was 
halfway between sleep and wakefulness, and still aware of 
his dreams. He dreamed of dancing fire, and of snow 
smothering the flame.
Then the dying flame began to whinny, sounding much 
like a chamel. A chamel terrified almost to death.
He popped awake almost instantly, his hand curled 
around the grendel gun at his side. 'Get the skeeters up, ' 
he yelled. Katya was dressing and rolling out of the sleeping 
bag at the same time, out of the tent in less than ten 
seconds.
He crawled out and scanned the chamels. Whatever 
had frightened them was still in the outer darkness, far 
enough away that it hadn't triggered the movement sen-
sors, but they still whinnied in terror.
His collar beeped. Cassandra. 'Six grendel-sized masses 
moving toward the camp. Alert. '
He slipped on his war specs. Cassandra automatically 
gave him thermal and starlight scope. Nothing. A mantle 
of snow covered the ground, and more drifted from the 
sky. Was there really anything out there? Dammit, they


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were fifteen kilometres from open water...
The chamels ran in circles. When they got to the edge 
of the pen their electronic collars gave them pain for the 
efforts - but the pain was nothing compared with the terror. 
They screamed. Their hooves threw up small bits of snow.
Snow.
Freeze me blind. 'Cassandra, ' he whispered. 'I want a 
weather report. '
'Mild storm front moving in from the north. '
'Where is the largest body of water south of us?'
'A lake approximately twenty kilometres south. '
'General comm circuit. Everyone, up and at 'em! 
Grendels coming. The wind has carried our scent and the 
storm has let them get here. Grendels in the snow! General 
alert!'
'Right, ' someone answered.
'Perimeter defence, ' Justin said. 'War specs on thermal. 
Auditory updates to everyone else, on the minute. We better 
use local nodes - don't risk bouncing the signal topside in 
this weather. '
More information, but less computing power for reso-
lution. It would probably balance out.
'Get our best pilots up. Katya, get airborne. ' She was a 
superb pilot. This would be her most severe test.
He checked the charge on his grendel gun. She wasn't 
the only one who would be tested today.
Jessica pulled the chamel pup back into the herd, got it to 
huddle against one of the females. Her war specs revealed 
four heart-shapes crouching in the outer darkness. They 
were waiting. Cooperating? Or did they merely tolerate 
each other when there was meat to share? The chamel 
scent was strong enough to attract every grendel from 
here to the river. End it now.


She touched her collar. 'I don't want to wait for them, ' 
she said. 'This thing will get out of control. I say that we go 
find them. '
'I like that idea, ' Aaron said. 'Skeeter I, Skeeter VI. 
Let's go hunting. '
Justin adjusted his war specs. They were synchronized 
with the rifle sights - making not quite a smart gun but 
close to it. Visual, enhanced infrared and motion-sensor 
data were coordinated with the rifle in overlapping lines of 
pale green and red. When the images aligned he had a 
lock. And the grendel was moving.
There! Grendelflash, alignment-
It ran straight at him, faster than he'd have believed 
possible, faster even than the grendel images in their com-
puter training classes, faster than a living thing could 
move, and it was coming for him, hot death on the run.
If he hadn't been prepared for it, if he hadn't trained for it 
in computer simulations a thousand times, he would have 
been caught flat-footed. Damn but it moved fast, and 
straight for him. Every instinct told him to run-
The sights were aligned. He fired. The capacitor dart, 
travelling at twice the speed of sound, hit the grendel and 
dumped its juice. The grendel's nervous system flashed 
and its brain was a char, even though its legs carried it on 
into the herd. Physics supersedes biology. The chamels 
scattered, but inertia carried the grendel into the herd and 
one chamel went down under its bulk. Even in death the 
grendel closed its jaws on the chamel's throat. The other 
chamels ran until their collars brought them to a halt. 
They bleated their terror.
'They're coming in!' Derik screamed. His sleeping bag 
had been next to Justin's, and now he was standing just to 
Justin's left. 'Here they come!'
The   snow   spumed   up   in   criss-crossing   lines.


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Grendelflash. At least four. Justin sighted, locked, fired -a 
clean miss. He blinked and the grendel was a hundred 
metres closer, nearly atop him. Lock! He fired again, and 
Derik fired also. One of the darts struck the grendel dead 
into its throat. It ran on toward them. Physics supersedes 
biology...
Justin rolled one way and Derik the other. The grendel 
ploughed through the centre, right where he had lain. Its 
legs scrabbled in the air as it made a terrible pierced-boiler 
squawking sound.
A skeeter flashed down from above. Aaron was 
belted into the doorway, and had mounted a gun there. 
Armour-piercing rounds stitched across the snow, then 
along a grendel from tail to head. Blood sprayed the 
snow. Everyone expected a second grendel to attack 
the wounded one. They had seen that in recordings 
made in the Grendel Wars. A grendel was wounded 
and others turned on it, sometimes generating a frenzy. It 
didn't happen here. The other two grendels charged 
onward.
Hungry, Justin thought. Hungry, and wary, and they 
cooperate! The snow keeps them cooled off, and they 
cooperate.
Christ.
Skeeter II. Katya's voice. ''Grendelflash south-south-
west. '
'Targeting?'
'Negative. '
'Jessica? Can you engage?'
''I've got it. ' Justin had never been happier to hear her 
voice. She was to the south. He and Derik had the east, 
Chaka the north. Who was to the west? He didn't know. 
Nothing I can do anyway. Hold my sector, and hope the 
others hold theirs. This is what dad meant about the First. 
They had to trust each other...


Skeeter II buzzed close overhead. Katya's voice: ' We've 
lost visual. We've got Cassandra reconstructing our 
infrared images. The storm is interfering with transmis-
sions. I'm not sure our on-boards-'
There was a moment in which the sound rose to a 
crackle, and then it died out. Dammit. Justin heard the 
skeeter overhead, coming in too low. The snow increased, 
another flurry driving itself against him, and he cursed. He 
couldn't see anything.
The earphones crackled again. 'Trying to see-'
And then-
Stu leaned out the door of Skeeter II. Too much was 
happening too quickly to let him keep the whole camp 
under observation. He wasn't worried. They had grendel 
guns far better than the ones the Earth Born had used to 
win the Grendel Wars, and the Star Born were better 
trained, had better reflexes than the First. They'd 
rehearsed this in simulation, skeeters and Cassandra and 
the gunners operating together to bring maximum fire-
power to bear.
That was in simulation. This was different. Here the 
weather kept Cassandra blind and he was nearly so, and 
his heart pounded and he sometimes forgot to breathe. He 
peered into the snow, but he couldn't see clearly.
'Stu, where the hell are they?' Justin's voice yammered in 
his earpiece. 'Bring it down a little closer, ' he told Katya. 
'Justin needs help. '
'Right, ' she said. 'Uh - I can't-'
'Yes?' he shouted.
'Nothing. I'll get in closer. '
The meat milled right in front of Cold One, but the stink 
of death was in the air, and an alien chemical reek.


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There was much that she didn't understand here.
She bucked and snapped at the sister next to her, 
receiving a warning snap in return. It might have turned -
into a death match then and there, but for the meat - so 
much! - and for another thing. Others of her kind, others of 
her own brood, had died here, and the stench of speed and 
grendel blood filled the air.
The air was filled with smoke and thunder as her sister 
burst open, spewing blood and bone and shredded flesh 
and speed. Something like blind panic hit her. She couldn't 
begin to comprehend what had just happened, but she 
had once seen the sky flash with light, rainfire, and that 
light climb down from the clouds to strike a tree. The tree 
had burst into flame.
And this was something close to that. The meat! The 
meat! So much of it. Yet the world was turning upside-
down and she smelled death in every wind. The world 
was changing. Hell was coming, and any strange thing 
might be worth her life.
Like this: looming abruptly out of the sky was a bur-
ring thing that Cold One had only glimpsed between 
flurries, a birdie big enough to eat grendels, its wings invisible 
on speed. It swung down, then drew back as if suddenly 
aware that it had come too close to earth. A threat! A 
challenge!
Speed flooded through her body. A grendel would 
attack what it feared.
Justin saw Katya's skeeter come in low, circle, come back 
even lower. The sound and pressure of its rotors bore 
down on him and swelled until they filled the entire world. 
Suddenly it was only a few metres over his head. 'Sleet!' he 
yelled, reflexively flinging his hands up in a doomed 
attempt to ward off disaster.


Katya was already trying to correct. The skeeter headed out 
into grendel territory, and began to rise. 'God, ' Derik said. 
'They're going to make it-'
The skeeter struggled to gain altitude against the wind and 
snow. The low power light winked on as Katya threw full 
power to the engines, but the craft tipped downward and 
fell. 'Stu - we're going in, ' she had time to say.
Snow exploded, a white cloud against the windshield. 
The skeeter didn't want to respond to the controls, and a 
pale shape was coming at her eyes. She screamed and 
crossed her arms in front of her face as jaws came across 
the ship's nose. The grendel smashed through the front 
viewscreen. The skeeter banked violently to the left, and she 
lost all control. The autogyro fell into the snow bank. She 
had time to hope that the fall would crush the grendel, but 
then the rotor caught and threw up a shower of snow and 
dirt, and they cartwheeled forward and over, crashing down 
nose-first. Her harness straps dug into her flesh but they held.
'Stu-' she shouted. 'Stu, it's not dead!'
Stu wiped blood from his eyes. He'd lost his grendel 
gun in the crash. Up forward the slim torpedo head and 
much of the grendel's body were halfway through the 
shattered left-hand windscreen. The jaws opened and 
closed. Snow heated by the internal heat of its speed 
steamed up from its snout and jaws. Those jaws snapped 
shut no more than a metre from Katya's face.
The grendel had been stunned by the fall but now it was 
coming awake. It was like a scene from one of their 
recorded Hallowe'en movies, a serpentine ogre coming back 
from the dead. A long strip of the windshield's frame had 
torn loose and partly eviscerated the grendel. It left a trail of hot 
blood and steaming intestines as it inched toward Stu. The 
stench of its dragon breath was nearly overpowering.


345
344
 


Katya screamed. The thing whipped its head around 
and stared at her as if affronted by her noise, her motion, 
her very mortal fear. Stu saw the grendel, impaled, dying, 
work its way in through the window, saw its jaws close on 
her head. He closed his eyes, and wished that he could 
have closed his ears as well, the terrible cracking-ice wet 
crunching sound, the sudden explosive stench of blood 
and brains...
He blinked, hard. Katya was still alive - the grendel 
hadn't reached her yet. He threw off the quick-release 
buckles and dived forward. He screamed 'Hey!' and 
swung his fist, connecting solidly on the side of its head. 
He felt his knuckle break against its armour, cursed and 
swung again, at its eye.
It roared, deafening in the confined space, and turned 
to snap at him.
Stu screamed, suddenly registering the insanity of what 
he had done, and jerked his safety webbing loose. He 
rolled out of the skeeter, spilling into the snow, and kicked 
the door shut behind him. The enraged grendel was coming 
through the plexiglass windscreen. Ignoring the 
hysterical Katya, it pounded its way through the door and 
flowed after Stu like a shark through water.
How could the dying beast move at all? Stu staggered 
flailing through the snow. He'd left his gun... he never 
would have had time to reach it, but how could the beast 
still move? It flashed into speed and was on him. He'd 
gone no more than a dozen metres.
Justin was moving even before the skeeter struck the 
ground. The snow was driving now, a sudden flurry that 
blinded, but it would confuse the grendels as well.
'Justin!' Derik yelled behind him. He didn't care. Katya 
was in mortal danger and there was no way that he could 
leave her to die.


He pitched forward into the snow and peered out 
through his goggles.
Feasting, near the skeeter. He recognized Stu's jacket.
Justin clamped his mind down on nausea and fear and 
grief. Business now. Mourn later. Think.
That grendel was busy. It looked to be dying, ripped 
open, for that matter. It might even warn others away: its 
natural territoriality would protect Katya for a few minutes.
He heard Katya whimper, and almost lost his resolve. 
Almost. There was a plea, a cry of Justin! Help me! He felt it 
reach right under his logic, and twist.
He remembered what Carlos had said about his bride, 
up on the cliff. That he had never forgiven himself. That 
he had learned something about himself at that moment.
Justin could pull back to the safety of his encampment 
and let whatever happened happen. Wait for the storm to 
abate or for the grendel to finish its meal, and decide what to 
do about the whimpering woman.
And find out whether or not he could live with it, later.
Closer.
'Justin-' Katya screamed.
And-
Grendelflash.
Memory. The Learning Centre, the domed building in the 
very middle of the colony. Cadmann sets four-year-old 
Justin in a bucket seat in the hollow of something that 
looks like a big half-eggshell. Cadmann sits down next to 
him, touches a button.
Now they're next to a river. It's a cartoon, not real at all, 
and everything is moving slowly.
Suddenly, something ugly pokes its head out of the


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346
 


water. Not real ugly: comic-book ugly, exaggeration ugly, 
with pop-eyes and blacked-out broken teeth and an idiot 
expression. If a grendel had been in Dumbo's circus, this 
would be it.
Cadmann pushes a button, and a green ray shoots the 
ugly thing. It rolls over, thrashes and kicks its legs. It holds a 
daffodil between its stubby paws.
Justin claps, delighted.
'Now your turn, ' Cadmann says. And he's laughing, 
but little Justin wonders at a queerness in the sound. 
Daddy wants something out of this.
The thought passes. Little Justin takes the control. This is 
fun.
At twelve, the virtual game is a regular thing. Every 
week Cadmann takes him. Every boy and girl in 
Camelot competes in the Game. It is simple. There are 
hunting simulations. Climbing scenarios, mining expe-
ditions. Simulations all. They form teams or play 
alone.
And at some point in the Game (and there might be a 
dozen other objectives within the game) there will be a 
grendelflash.
Every week for years, a different component of skill has 
been nurtured. Instant response. Aim. Relax under pres-
sure. Multiple targets. Automatic scanning for a second, 
third, fourth predator. On and on.
The intent is to groove one neurological response pat-
tern.
Cadmann has told him:
The grendel depends upon its speed. But unless you 
have been foolish indeed, you will have a second or two 
before it is on you. We will train you to respond in less 
than two-fifths of a second. We will train you to bring 
your weapon to bear, to evaluate risk, to fire twice in


precisely the correct pattern. It will be a reflex, completely 
unconscious. We can give you this gift. You will survive.
Pale death came at him in a whirl of snowspray. Justin's 
hands moved faster than his brain could follow, lining up 
with perfect coordination. The thing accelerated to over 
one hundred and twenty kilometres an hour in the time it 
would have taken him to blink. If he had blinked. But that 
was training too. Calm breath. Don't blink. Fire twice.
The first bullet tore into the grendel's throat, carrying 
enough shock to drive it sideways, off-line, so that he 
wouldn't be bowled over by its charge. The second was an 
incendiary round, heat for the heated, to jolt the beast 
across an invisible metabolic line.
It reeled back, torn, bleeding, dying. Its eyes locked 
with his, its feet splayed, bright red blood staining the 
snow which whirled and pelted between them.
Grendelflash, left! He shot it again, between its eyes, 
and tore off the top of its head. He spun left-
The grendel above Stu was gone. Not gone: he caught 
its madly whipping tail following it into a snow bank.
Someone fired from behind him, twice. Derik. Justin 
said, 'Hold off. '
'Why?'
'All the other grendels are hamburger. ' Justin was still 
taking it in. A mistake in judgement here could be terribly 
embarrassing.
Stu's ravaged corpse lay in a pit in the snow. The grendel 
had been terribly injured; he'd seen its intestines hanging 
in coils. Its spraying blood, nearly boiling, had melted 
cubic metres of snow. Three or four more dark pits led to the 
snow bank: more splashed blood. The grendel had 
disappeared into snow there, and Stu's two exploding


349
348
 


bullets were interlocked pocks right in the middle of that; 
but Justin had seen snow shift to the right, and now he 
saw it shift again. The grendel wasn't moving now - hud-
dling, he thought - but the heaped snow was melting.
Justin said, 'I'd like to give Chaka an intact corpse. '
'It's still dangerous. '
'Sure, we have to kill it, not study it. Do I hear the' 
voice of Zack Moskowitz? Cover me. '
Rifle at the ready, he ran to the skeeter as Derik cov-
ered him. Katya was cowering in the back, somehow 
wedged behind the seat. Her arms were wrapped around 
her chest, and a rictus of terror distorted her face.
She looked at him without seeing. He put his hand 
across hers. 'Come on, ' he said. 'You're safe. '
She clutched at his hand. He bent to the floor of the 
wrecked skeeter, picked up Stu's grendel gun and wrapped 
her hands around it.
And that settled that. The weirds did cooperate.
Speed was seeping into Old Grendel's blood despite all 
she could do. In all her life she'd never seen anything like 
this. The Cold Ones too could cooperate, it seemed, when 
there was prey enough to feed all. But against the weirds-
The last of them had fled. The smallest, she hadn't even 
tried to kill anything. The small Cold One had watched, 
and now, steaming with speed, was fleeing up toward the 
highest snow bank on the hill. Toward Old Grendel, 
buried in snow but for snorkel and eyes.
Old Grendel smashed into her flank, sank teeth just 
ahead of her hindleg and ripped flesh away. The snow 
grendel, turning with the impact, smacked sideways into 
the snow bank. In a blur of snow she clawed her way out, 
but Old Grendel was a blurred hot streak, receding.
She went straight downhill in the shadow of a gully.


The weirds would not see her. Dying snow grendels and 
their own wounded would hold their attention. She was 
running over heaped snow, but the snow stopped at the 
trees.
Short of that point, Old Grendel turned and rolled. 
Snow was not enough - she really wanted water - but it 
would do. She spun across the snow, exhilarated, boiling 
with speed. Her roll stopped in a snow bank. As the snow 
began to melt, she looked back for the first time. The 
snow grendel was far above her. It lurched toward her, on 
speed but terribly clumsy, spraying blood from her flank.
All grendels had that in common: on speed their hearts 
churned like the motor wings of an Avalon birdie. They 
lost blood fast. Old Grendel let the speed seep from her 
blood. She crawled backward now, over snow that melted at 
her touch, backward and into the shadowed forest. The 
snow grendel floundered after her, slowing; obscuring her 
track.
Would the weirds bother to track the last snow grendel? 
They might. Weirds left no question unanswered. If they 
looked, they would not find Old Grendel: only her prey. 
If they did not, a day from now the snow grendel would 
make fine eating.
Old Grendel was beginning to believe God had not 
trained her parasites. The answer was madder yet.
As meat the weirds were no longer interesting. The 
weirds had enslaved God. Old Grendel intended to learn 
how to do that.


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23 - Conquest
Now what about those incidents in which some 
person seems to go beyond what we supposed 
were the normal bounds of endurance, strength, 
or tolerance of pain? We like to believe this 
demonstrates that the force of will can overrule 
the physical laws that govern the world. But a 
person's ability to persist in circumstances we 
hadn't thought were tolerable need not indicate 
anything supernatural. Since our feelings of pain, 
depression, exhaustion, and discouragement are 
themselves mere products of our minds' activities 
- and ones that are engineered to warn us before 
we reach our ultimate limits - we need no 
extraordinary power of mind over matter to 
overcome them. It is merely a matter of finding 
ways to rearrange our priorities.
In any case what hurts - and even what is 'felt' 
at all - may, in the end, be more dependent on 
culture than biology. Ask anyone who runs a 
marathon, or ask your favorite Amazon.
Marvin Minsky, The Society of Mind
The storm blew out and the sky cleared. In those two 
hours Aaron had used the remaining skeeters to round up 
the male chamels while Justin established a defensive 
perimeter complete with motion detectors. That work kept 
them busy for hours. When it was over, when the last 
reluctant chamel had been restored to the herd, the Star 
Born returned to the grim reality of torn, bloody snow and 
the tarp-shrouded body of their friend.


Justin knelt beside the tan shroud, brooding. 'I know 
you, Stu. You'd want us to remember that our defences 
worked. '
Aaron nodded agreement. 'When the Earth Born first 
encountered a grendel, it was a massacre. This was just 
war. We lost only one of ours. '
'One too many. ' The toe of Jessica's left boot dug at a 
bit of dark, gummy snow. The head-shape beneath the 
tarp was misshapen. Even draped, the body seemed... 
broken. Shrunken.
'Does anyone want to say something?' Justin asked.
Katya nodded, and bowed her head slightly. 'Stu. ' Her 
breath plumed from her mouth like a whisper of steam. 
'You died for me. ' Justin rose and put his arm around her 
shoulder. She clung to him.
There was a long pause, everyone expecting someone 
else to speak first. There was no sound but the wind, the 
distant skeeters and the lowing of the chamel herd.
'Do we send him back to Camelot?' Jessica finally 
asked.
'No, ' Aaron's reply was unexpectedly fierce. 'He came 
to take the continent. Let him be buried here, where he 
fell. We'll mark the spot with stones and let Cassandra 
record it. Send him to wind and sky and sun. '
'But-'
Aaron wasn't listening. 'His real monument will be at 
Shangri-La, the place he helped to build. This is our land 
now. All of this. Not Camelot, not Surf's Up. This is our 
land. '
The midday sun melted enough snow to expose an evis-
cerated grendel corpse - Stu's killer. Aaron fired a 
biotoxin load into it and it didn't twitch. Then Skeeter V 
set down carrying Jasper Doheny and the expedition's 
chainsaw. Chaka moved in with the deadly humming


352
353
 


wand. He began his autopsy with a beheading.
Now he pulled at torn skin, measured teeth and tail, 
jotting everything down in a little notebook. 'You know, ' 
he said quietly, 'the interesting thing is that they didn't just 
tolerate each other's presence. That would have been 
remarkable enough - but they actually seemed to cooperate. 
'
'That's a pretty depressing thought, ' Jessica said.
'Alarming is more like it. ' Chaka wiggled the broken 
jaw, then ran his hands over the misshapen, not quite 
symmetrical skull. 'The ability of grendels to organize - at 
all - implies a level of intelligence or social organization 
which we haven't experienced before. That's going to take a 
lot of thought. '
Justin squeezed Katya's hand. She had clung to him 
almost continuously for the past hour. 'What do you sug-
gest?'
'Let the snow cool the head a bit more, then get it back 
to Shangri-La and freeze it. Then back to Camelot on the 
next transport. I want my father's opinion of the brain. '
Aaron nodded. 'The kind of thing that they'll love. A 
puzzle. ' He ran a hand over his long face. 'I've had enough 
of this place, ' he said grimly. 'Let's get the hell out of 
here. '
Old Grendel had seen them taking a snow grendel apart, 
treating each part in some different way. They had eaten 
none of it. Uneasy, she had moved downhill.
The snow grendels had frightened the weirds, and they 
were far too likely to investigate what they feared. Old 
Grendel didn't consider it safe to spy on them. She 
stopped and buried herself above the corpse of the snow 
grendel she had killed. Watching that should be safe.
The daughters of God rose into the air and flew east.


The puzzle-beasts moved west in a great mass, with 
weirds all around them.
The weirds were going... were gone. They hadn't 
found the last snow grendel. Old Grendel circled wide, 
looking for traps and spies. There were several of the little 
boxes the weirds sometimes posted where the view would 
serve a spy, and Old Grendel would not pass in front of 
those.
Presently she settled in to feed.
The weirds didn't know everything. Old Grendel was 
oddly reassured.
The herd was moving again, and they were making good 
time. Justin could see an edge to the plateau. Beyond, 
never yet seen by the naked eye, was a savannah covering 
a third of the continent. They were as far as any human 
had been from Camelot without actually achieving orbit.
After the skeeters had buzzed in to take away grendels 
and human casualties, Katya swore that she was steady 
enough to drive a trike. Twice now she'd spun up next to 
Justin to blow him kisses. A bandage covered half her 
face, with a blue slash and stitches underneath twisting her 
laugh into something wild.
She can hardly wait for nightfall, he mused. All of that 
'my hero' stuff. Should be... interesting.
He wondered, then, if she'd have nightmares. After 
what she'd been through, another woman might have been 
catatonic. But he'd be there to hold her.
Skeeter scouts found the route of descent from the 
plateau. It was checked first by horseback, and then by 
chamel. The herd descended three hundred metres to the 
grasslands. It was flat down there, a vast tabletop that 
seemed to run forever, brownish-green growing gradually


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greener with the descent. A wide brown river meandered 
in S-curves. Here and there were patches of trees.
The descent took five hours. There was still enough 
day left to make a few kilometres before camp.
The grass was almost waist-high, blue-green and rich. 
The trikes ploughed furrows in it as they jetted around.
Justin's mare chewed happily at the grass. Analysis had 
shown it would be digestible; they wouldn't need to bring 
much animal feed in by skeeter. Justin leaned down and 
plucked a strand, took a tiny bite and tucked it back 
between his rear molar and his gum. It chewed sweet-
sour, not bad at all.
In the future, this would be cattle country. Trikes 
zipped about, stopping here and there to make recordings 
and snip samples for Cassandra to muse over later.
The computer whispered in his ear. 'I see an odd 
flower. Turn to the left again, please. '
He did, and couldn't see what Cassandra was talking 
about. But: 'There we are. Would you get one of those, 
please?'
The herd was behind him. If the computer wanted 
something he was going to have to get it now, before 
hooves and teeth destroyed it.
The flower was in the middle of a patch of blue grass, 
and there was a bug-like thing crawling around it.
'What is it, Cassandra?'
'Closer... '
He got closer, and suddenly saw something of real 
interest.
The beetle was tearing at a fibrous bulb on the plant. 
The bulb, on the other hand, seemed to be made of an 
interwoven web of fibres... and some of the plant's 
fleshy leaves were composed almost exclusively of those 
fibres, but pointed skyward.
A tiny lizard-like thing, not much larger than the tearing


insect, climbed the stalk and attacked the leaf. Almost 
immediately, the leaf began to change colour, from fleshy 
red to blue, oozing a blue exudate.
The lizard like thing tried to escape, but the exudate had 
it caught. The fibres stirred. They wound about the lizard, 
catching it tight. The lizard's struggles slowly bowed the 
plant, and the leaf bent and turned upside-down.
Fascinated by the process, which had taken no more 
than five minutes, Justin took another look at the beetle, 
still working hard at the other leaf. It was in there now, 
and it was... eating something.
'Wow, ' he said. 'Cassandra, what do you see?'
'A microecology that needs study, ' she said calmly.
'I see a scavenger hijacking a flesh-eating plant, ' Justin 
said for the record. 'Pretty sneaky, I'd say. '
'Sample, please. '
Justin shook the plant, and the little bug suddenly 
noticed him. It turned - and spread disproportionately 
large jaws. It couldn't have been larger than his thumb, 
but the wings trebled its size. It shot off toward the hori-
zon so fast it nearly disappeared.
Faster than hell. So fast that...
'Cassandra. ' He didn't like the stress in his voice. 'Was 
that bug on speed?'
'It is possible, ' the computer said. It sounded like an 
admission.
'I believe we have found another speed-using species. 
Correlations? Conclusions?'
'Observed data indicate this is a scavenger. No other 
conclusions valid with existing data. '
That made him feel a little more comfortable, but not 
much. He summoned a trike to take the specimens.
'Skeeter reports a large animal in your vicinity, south-
southwest of you, Katya. '


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He and Katya putted along in the two-seater trike. The 
loss of Stu weighed on all of them, but especially on 
Katya. She had clocked over a thousand hours with him in 
that skeeter. It had to hurt.
Her night had been filled with bad dreams. This morning 
she didn't remember. She was brisk and perky, as if she'd 
slept better than Justin.
They had buried Stu where he'd fallen. They all wanted 
some kind of ceremony, but Aaron didn't agree. 'We will 
remember him at Shangri-La, ' he said. Stu was a Bottle 
Baby, never adopted. No relatives among the First. Aaron 
and the others were the only family Stu had, and they let 
Aaron speak for them...
Now they were taking back the trophy, their only 
intact grendel head. A poor trade.
He found his hand creeping to cover hers. She widened 
her fingers to accept his. The small motion seemed some-
how more intimate than the times she had welcomed him 
into her body. Her eyes, golden with flecks of green, 
sparkled at him. The bandage was still in place.
'Let's take a look, ' she said.
Justin said, 'Cassandra, give us a local scan for gren-
dels. '
All of Cassandra's considerable eyes and ears were sud-
denly concentrated on the area. A relief map glowed on 
the hologram stage, blank at first, filling in rapidly.
There were no grendel-bearing water sources short of 
the river thirty-five kilometres away.
They would avoid the river. The herd would water 
tomorrow. Their skeeters would have plenty of time to 
clear out the waterhole before the herd arrived. Now, 
where was Cassandra's 'large animal'?
Justin popped the clutch and headed out toward the 
site, south-southwest. The grass grew higher than his 
head. He tried to keep one eye ahead and one on the little


holostage where Cassandra had given them a skeeter's-eye 
hologram. It showed a cleanly geometric trapezoid, pale 
brown on a baize background. An Avalon crab, Justin 
thought, seen from nearly overhead. Where were the legs? 
They must be underneath. That looked like tufts of hair 
along the edges. And he ought to be getting close.
He could see pterodons circling overhead... and nothing 
ahead. He was looking through a curtain of grass. Then 
he wasn't, because they'd driven out of the grass into a 
neatly cut lawn. He grinned, speeded up, enjoying the 
view. High grass to left and right. Still he saw nothing of a 
mystery creature, until Katya spoke.
'We're looking at the aft end. Justin, we've found a 
Scribe!'
Scribe? Perspective came. It was almost half the hori-
zon, a geographical feature moving slowly away from 
them. It was camouflaged, but that wasn't it. He hadn't 
seen it because it was too big!
Katya was laughing at him. He'd gasped like a dying 
man. Justin said, 'Cassandra, sanity check. Could this be a 
Scribe? One of the things that draws the paths we see 
from orbit?'
'It leaves a path identical to the Scribe tracks, ' the com-
puter said. 'Absent conflicting data this is a valid 
conclusion. '
They moved closer. No sign of eyes, this side of the 
beast. Not much detail at all, just the edge of a tremen-
dous shell, the colour of bare earth, moving slowly away.
It didn't waddle. It cruised. In its wake the grass stood a 
few centimetres high, dotted with truncated haystacks a 
little over half a metre tall. Droppings?
Something like a tremendous flattened crab, moving 
no faster than the Scribe itself, slid up to one of the heaps 
and over it without a pause. A juvenile?
Talking to himself, talking for Cassandra's records,


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Justin drove the trike into the grass again. Three 
pterodons were circling high above him. He rode half-
blind through the prairie grass, swinging wide around the 
now invisible beast. 'Don't want to startle it, ' he told 
Katya, and was suddenly whooping.
A small fist whacked him between the shoulders. 
'What?'
He could hardly speak for laughter. 'Pictured it rearing 
up. Pawing the air. Don't mind me. '
He must be far ahead of it now. There was a stand of 
horsemane trees, uphill. He pulled the trike into their 
shade, turned off the engine and waited. The pterodons 
were still with him. A fourth came to join them. One 
peeled off and flew toward the Scribe.
A thing that size... it wouldn't try to plough trees 
under, would it?
They were on a^light rise, three kilometres ahead of the 
chamel herd. Down below them, now more than two hun-
dred metres away, was the largest creature Justin had ever 
seen in his life. A crab... clearly derived from a crab shell, 
like the Avalon crabs, like the fixed-wing birds. But you 
could have built a city on its back! Or a village anyway...
In fact, a pterodon was landing on its back to join more 
than two dozen others. Five merged circles, a communal 
nest, sprawled along the front of the shell.
A deep blue line ran across the front of the Scribe at the 
level of the grass. It seemed to ripple. Lips, or just a lower 
lip... maybe.
Otherwise no part of the beast was in motion. It slid 
along like a raft on a wide river. Any movement must be 
taking place beneath the shell. Others of its kind, Avalon 
crabs and bugs and birds, made do with four motive limbs 
and endless ingenuity to the shapes of their shells.
Katya rose from her seat, lifted a pair of war specs and 
gave a low whistle. She nudged him and passed them over.


The beast was even more impressive when seen through 
the glasses. As large as... 'Cassandra, is this the largest 
animal we know of?'
'Negative. The blue whale is larger. This is comparable 
in size to the largest of the herbivorous dinosaurs. '
'Thank you. ' The edge of the shell dipped to become 
skids or skis. Half a dozen snouters grazed placidly along 
one flank. The beast was as large as half the main colony, 
and flat. It must have nearly the mass of a blue whale, but 
flatter, and wider than it was long.
There: eyes. Justin had thought they'd be higher. They 
were bedded in the long blue lips, too low to give the 
Scribe a decent view. He zoomed in on one eye, and it was 
looking back, examining Justin and Katya, utterly uncon-
cerned.
It wasn't until Justin focused the lenses more carefully 
that he saw what Katya was excited about.
There were grendels hanging from the shell. Two... no, 
three distorted grendel-shapes hung from the front and 
side of the shell, like hanks of hair. Mummies, not quite 
skeletons, but long dead, he judged.
Katya was saying, 'Looks slow. Let's take a closer 
look. '
The Scribe continued on its placid way as they 
approached. Five pterodons rose to circle above them. 
Snouters scurried away around the curve of the stupen-
dous beast. They didn't seem terribly worried. The little 
Scribe, if that was what it was, hadn't been afraid either. 
But those dried corpses were grendels!
'Cassandra, ' Justin said, 'backtrack. '
The trike's little holostage sprouted a relief map of the 
locality. Cassandra recreated the beast's path as it 
meandered among similar paths in the grasslands. There 
were other curves and loops of lighter grass on the flat 
prairie background, and they crossed only rarely.


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'How close does it get to running water?' he asked, but 
he saw the answer as he spoke: the path dipped to touch 
the river, and lingered there.
Cassandra said, 'Quite close, and frequently. The path 
often parallels waterways. '
'Does it enter known grendel territory?'
'Affirmative. '
'Thank you, ' Justin said. 'Hallelujah. '
'There are things that aren't afraid of grendels, ' Katya 
said.
'Obviously. Not this creature, nor its young. Not the 
pterodons nesting on its back. '
'And the snouters?'
'Don't know. Maybe they stay on the veldt when 
Mama Scribe drinks. '
Justin stood up on the seat of the trike to watch the 
creature. It drifted like an island, placid and unconcerned, 
as if it had never been threatened in its life. Indeed, it was 
difficult to imagine what could harm such a beast.
He raised the binoculars and focused on one of the 
mummified grendels.
The four mummies looked about the same state, the 
same age. That might have been a coordinated attack, for 
all the good it had done them. Each was hanging by its tail.
'Its defences seem to be passive, ' he said. 'Its sheer size, 
and something about the shell that traps grendels. '
Katya asked, 'Some sort of mucilage?'
'More like velcro. Maybe. I want to see. ' He levered 
himself off the trike and walked through the high grass 
toward the Scribe. He pulled his microphone aside and 
told Katya, 'You could put a castle on this thing. Come, I 
will make you Queen of the Scribeveldt. '
The shell was all pentagonal plates, like shields half a 
metre across. Shields, and white tails hanging between the 
edges, here and there. Bones?


Cadmann had spoken of Roman army shields: the war-
riors held them in a closed array, each warrior's shield 
guarding the man next to him, in the days of swords and 
spears. Roman shields would trap enemy spears... like 
velcro; he'd been right about that.
Katya said, 'Not a castle. Tents. A pavilion, a summer 
palace. The serfs will have to wear special shoes. '
'Yeah, wouldn't want to hurt the shell. '
He was vaguely aware of a skeeter's buzz, far-off and 
insignificant, and almost didn't register it until he heard 
the voice in his earphone. 'What in the hell are you 
doing?' Jessica asked.
'I'm getting closer, ' he said. 'This thing couldn't care 
less about me. '
'You don't know that. ' Her voice was irritated.
'It's good to know somebody cares, ' he said.
Jessica brought the skeeter closer and watched Justin and 
Katya approach the mountainous Scribe. The lawn behind it 
stretched to the horizon. It was easy to imagine such a 
herbivore trolling the entire continent, perhaps looking for 
a mate, collecting a herd of animals who hid beneath its 
shell for safety.
It was impossible to imagine a carnivore of equivalent 
size. Even blue whales, while technically carnivores, were 
passive filtration feeders. The malevolent Moby Dick had 
been their little brother. So Justin was probably safe. 
Probably.
Still.
She was irritated. She wanted to be mad at him. He had 
sided with Cadmann against them, against Aaron, and was 
a traitor of sorts, dammit. And he wasn't really her 
brother, for all the talk about two mothers and a dad. 
Justin's father was Terry Faulkner - he wasn't related to


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Cadmann at all - and yet he'd sided with the Colonel 
against the Second. She wanted to stay pissed off at him, 
but hated the way her chest hammered in response to the 
visual input.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. Only Justin and... and 
Aaron. Only the two of them could drive her this crazy.
He was six metres from the creature now. Its eye, more 
than a metre across, with a black iris - its tiny-seeming eye 
was on Justin and it just didn't care. To Jessica he looked 
so small. She could see his point. He was nothing in com-
parison to a beast such as this. Why should it pay him any 
mind whatsoever? And yet... and yet... Avalon Surprise.
The pig things snorted and ambled away. They were 
rooting around in the grass, moving when they had to stay 
ahead of the Scribe's long blue lip.
She brought the skeeter in for a closer look, and a 
snouter looked up, more alarmed by the whirring, flying 
thing in the sky than it had been by Justin's presence.
'What are you doing now?' she demanded.
'Getting closeups for the record. Jess, Chaka is going to 
absolutely love this! I'm looking at the bones of a gren-
del's tail, with a couple of vertebrae still attached. The rest of 
it could have fallen off years ago. The spikes on the tail are 
caught between the edges of the plates of the shell. It 
catches their tail spikes and they can writhe themselves 
into a coma for all the good it does them. These bones, 
they're cracked-'
'Cassie!' Jessica howled. 'Where are your safety over-
rides?'
'Working, ' Cassandra said, and went silent.
It came to Jessica that checking all of Cassandra's pro-
tective measures might be the work of months, or 
lifetimes. 'Cancel that last question. You hear me, Cassie?'
'Cancelled. Justin is safe by my current parameters, ' 
Cassandra said. 'I have backtracked this creature over the


past year. It is not an aggressor. Grendels do not survive in 
its domain. I find no other local predators thus far. '
Current parameters. 'When were your current safety 
parameters updated?'
'Eighty-seven days ago. '
Three months ago. Edgar had been fiddling with 
Cassandra, likely at Aaron's instigation, giving the Second 
more freedom to explore.
'Might as well join the madness, ' she said, and brought 
the skeeter down a hundred metres away from the living 
mountain. The Scribe didn't look able to move quickly, 
but she didn't want it accidentally changing course and 
crushing her skeeter.
She was glad to see Katya up and around and looking 
so damned chipper. She didn't completely agree with 
Justin's choice of woman but, what the hell, she didn't 
really have anything to say about it, did she?
The wind came cleanly through her lungs as she jogged 
toward them through armpit-high grass. The rapidity of 
her approach seemed to attract Mama Scribe's attention, 
and it turned its eye sluggishly toward her. Taking her 
time. It was impossible to imagine something like this having 
any potential for speed.
Justin was only three metres away from it, playing his 
camera over four sets of trapped bones. One set was as 
he'd told her, no more than several joints of a grendel's 
tail bones. The others were distorted mummies.
It seemed clear what had happened. Mama Scribe had 
approached the river to drink. Each grendel in turn, or all 
together, had made a suicidal charge and become stuck. 
Each had thrashed... that one seemed actually to have 
torn some of the plates loose, but it had done it no good. It 
hung limply, its bones cracked, as if it had shattered itself 
in those final convulsions. As if it had been too powerful 
to live.


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The great herbivore's lip rippled steadily, mowing two-
metre-high grass.
'We have to see what's going on under there, ' Justin 
said. 'We could drop a camera-'
'Harden it, ' Jessica said, as if they'd been talking all 
along. 'It'll get chewed up. '
'Yeah, hardened, with a light-'
'A little light. Camera set for low light. '
'Right, it must be permanent night under there. We 
don't want to blind... a whole damn' ecology under 
there, I bet. Cassandra, we need that camera. How long to 
make one up?'
'That will depend on priorities. The practical answer is 
that I can fabricate it in Camelot and put it aboard the 
next supply shuttle. '
Tell Edgar. '
One of the pig things came close, evidently embold-
ened by the nearness of Mama Scribe. Jessica took a step 
toward it and it scampered away.
Justin's expression was hard to read. He said, 'Watch 
this. '
Katya echoed that. 'Watch this, ' she said, nearly glowing 
with pleasure as Justin crouched, extending his hand. It 
held a handful of balled grass. He was very still.
At first the snouter just stared at him, but then it came 
close, and then closer, and then she couldn't believe it but 
the thing was eating out of his hand. It had actually begun 
to lick his hand when it suddenly shook its head, startled 
at its own boldness, and backed away.
Justin brushed his hands off on his pants.
'What was that all about?' she asked.
'Dunno. '
'You taste like a meat eater, ' Katya said, and licked his 
ear. He laughed and put his arm around her.
Jessica found herself feeling enormously irritated.


'Well - is it safe to bring the herd through here?'
'Safe as houses. '
'We've got a waterhole up ahead. Half a day. ' She 
didn't know why she said the next thing, but she did. 'It 
was mapped as a grendel hole last month. You want to be 
in on the kill?'
'Sure. ' He kissed Katya briefly. 'Katya - you take the 
trike, I'm going for a little skeeter ride. '
Katya looked at Jessica, smiled, then pulled Justin 
around for a real honey of a kiss, long and deep and sincere 
as hell.
Jessica decided that she definitely didn't like Katya.
The long, low sweep of the hills tilted and tilted again as 
the skeeter bobbed on the air currents, carrying Justin and 
Jessica to the east.
'Well, ' Jessica said finally, after about five minutes of 
silence. 'It certainly seems as if the two of you are getting 
along well. '
'Well, somebody's got to be a sex object around here. 
Jess, how about calling them "Harvester" instead of 
"Scribe"? Now we know what it is. '
She grinned mildly, her hands tight on the control. A 
flicker of evil intent tickled the back of Justin's mind, and 
he decided to push onward. 'I think maybe she's feeling 
her age. You know, some women feel that if they haven't 
had a child by twenty they're missing out somehow. 
Ridiculous, of course. '
She glanced at him as if to say: Do you think it's going 
to be that easy, Bud?
'Personally, I think that a woman's got until at least 
twenty-five. What about you and Aaron?'
She snorted. 'Oh, you know better than that-'
'Well, you wouldn't even have to carry the child your-
self. You could donate an egg, and he could donate a


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sperm -1 assume it would take only one, I mean, as stag-
geringly virile as Aaron is, simply seething with vital 
hormonal secretions-'
'Oh, shut up. '
'But Geographic has everything that you'd need... '
They were passing a stand of trees and coming up a 
river that ran into a lake. It was a sparkling ribbon of blue 
beneath them, girded with trees. She hovered, and 
Cassandra produced maps to show where grendel-sized 
heat sources had been spotted during earlier fly-bys. They 
only confirmed what her father's training and Jessica's 
imagination had been painting.
Open water equals death.
Jessica had grown quiet. The skeeter's steady hum was 
the only sound. They were alone up there, hovering above 
the grendels.
'Cassandra, ' she said quietly. 'Shut down. '
The privacy circuit, inviolate in the camp, went into 
effect. No one could hear them, no one could eavesdrop 
on them. The circuit was dead.
Jessica put the skeeter on autopilot. They were alone in 
the Universe. She turned toward him. 'We really haven't 
talked much since... that night, Justin, ' she said.
'Been busy. Everything happened so fast. '
'But we didn't talk about how we felt. We always used 
to talk about that. I miss those talks. '
He tried to smile, but it flickered out. 'You don't need 
my approval. Never did. '
'No. But I need you. Dad won't talk to me. Even when 
we tested the shelters, he barely spoke to me. '
'Jess, you betrayed him twice in his own home! When . 
Trish yelled for dad's head, you were sitting next to Trish, not 
dad. You won't be back until somebody's funeral!'
Her cheeks flamed. She wouldn't look at him.
'So you can't go home again. The question is, can we


get him to talk to you? Over a comlink card, or in the 
meeting hall? And that's a maybe. He was suffering after 
Toshiro - after he killed Toshiro. '
'We all were. '
'Was Aaron? I didn't see it. '
'How could you say that?' Her cheeks reddened. She 
had to remember that this flight, this conversation, was her 
idea. 'Toshiro was one of Aaron's closest friends. '
He said carefully, 'Sometimes I think that Aaron 
doesn't have any friends. '
'How could you say that? You've always been his 
friend. '
'Have I?' he asked, softly. 'Look at what happened. Dad 
is stalemated. The Firsts don't give us orders any more. 
We can have anything we want as long as we carry those 
damn' blankets everywhere. All because dad shot Toshiro. 
'
'You have a point?'
'I've spent too many nights thinking about it, ' Justin 
said. He hadn't told anyone this, not even Katya, and it 
suddenly felt like he'd been carrying a live grenade in his 
chest. 'There wasn't any way Aaron could lose! The plan 
was to take Robor to the mainland. If nobody comes after us, 
we win. But suppose someone comes. Suppose dad and 
Carlos die at sea because Aaron's left orders not to do any 
rescue work, or suppose Carlos drops dead because 
Toshiro fires a lightning bolt through him. It's hardball 
then, with Aaron in charge of a war. If dad or Carlos kill 
someone, Aaron gets the moral high ground. Even if dad 
forces Robor back to Camelot, Aaron gets what he wants. It's 
a cause, then, and the First would have to start talking again, 
and Aaron is one fine debater. '
'How could you say that? How can you think it?' she 
whispered again, astounded.
'All right. Answer me a question: would you have a


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Bottle Baby? Would you take your egg and someone else's 
sperm, and raise it in one of the incubators?'
'Of course... '
'Then why haven't you?'
'I have had eggs removed, ' she said, suddenly bitter. 'In 
the case of my death, my percentage of the wealth will go 
to raising my child. I have listed possible donors-'
She looked away from him suddenly and her cheeks 
flushed again. Suddenly, wildly, Justin wondered if his 
was one of the names on the list. 'But as long as I'm alive, 
that's something I would like to try on my own. Someday. 
Not now. '
'Not now, ' he echoed.
'No. ' She combed her hair with her fingers. 'Justin, 
what this is all about is the chance to declare a truce. 
What do you say?'
He thought about it. There were so many things that he 
wanted to talk about. But all of them faded into insignif-
icance when compared to what really mattered - his 
relationship with Jessica. Here, with the two of them, it 
seemed more important still.
'Truce, ' he said. And held out his hand. Hers was firm, 
and dry, and warm.


24 - Mistress
What we call a mind is nothing but a haep or col-
lection of different perceptions, united together 
by certain relations and suppos'd, tho' falsely, to 
be endow'd with a perfect simplicity and identity.
David Hume (c 1741)
The Builders lived in groups of six to eight, rarely more 
than ten. The lake was their world, and the lake was of 
their own making. They were fast and black and muscular. 
They could strip a tree in minutes to create new timber for 
their constructions.
They were still slow in comparison with the other, the 
Queen who lived downstream from them.
Sometimes the Queen came for the prey in the lake. 
Sometimes for the swimmers themselves, the young 
Builders.
Once, many Turnings before, one of their number had 
challenged the Queen for supremacy. The Queen had 
become a whirlwind of death. So had the Builder and two of 
her siblings. The fight was vicious. It tore a hole in the dam 
itself, so that water and precious food slopped over into 
the river below. But, when the fight was over, the three 
Builders were dead.
The Queen was barely wounded. The survivors tasted 
her anger in the water, the speed, the urge to kill them


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all. Most of them were on shore by now, braving other 
danger so that the Queen would not taste them in the 
water; but she could see them. Somehow she withheld the 
death that was hers to give.
No one had challenged her since.
Now she was back.
She swam upstream as she had before, crawling over 
the dam, never straying onto land. They smelled her in 
the water. The water carried a scratching sound, not 
loud, but audible everywhere in the lake, and every 
Builder's nose and eyes broke surface. They saw the great 
wedge-shaped head emerge with something alive in her 
mouth.
The Queen had come
What the Queen was doing was part of a pattern 
warped out of true. The light was turning weird. 
Something tremendous had been floating in the sky for 
days, never responding to challenge, nor interacting at all. 
The wrongness in the world encroached on the lake itself. 
They could taste changes in the water and air, changes 
that rang down in their bones.
The Queen knew it too. She had made four trips in as 
many Turnings of the sun, and each time she had carried a 
similar burden.
Not for an instant did they forget the Queen's blinding 
speed. She moved slowly, carefully, and the Builders 
watched with respect.
Between the Queen's teeth she held a live Swimmer. 
Not one of the Queen's own children - but another 
Builder child, from another stream and another lake.
She had brought three of these, tired and feeble but 
alive. A fourth had died from the distance the Queen had 
carried it between water holes, and damage from the 
great, serrated teeth.
The Queen set the newcomer in the water. It floated


for a moment, then began to twitch its tail, then to move.
And the Builders slowly, carefully approached it. It 
began to swim. They nudged it along. The other young 
butted it, but the Builders were a friendly clan. Even 
during the best of times there would have been no chal-
lenge.
Change was corning. They must keep to the water, for 
the Death Wind seemed to be everywhere these days. The 
Builders were distracted; they would not challenge the 
Queen's quest.
The Queen slipped into the water, gliding like death. 
She vanished beneath its surface, and came up with one of 
the lens-crabs that lived in the Builder-made pond, a prey-
creature. It flipped and flashed just once.
The Queen moved like the owner of all creation, 
smoothly through the water, along the length and breadth of 
the lake. The very Lady of the Lake.
'Did you see that?' Justin said, astonished.
'Would have been hard to miss. Cassandra?'
'I have recorded all of it. '
'What do you make of it?'
'Please narrow your question. '
'I seem to be looking at some kind of grendel social 
interaction, ' Justin said. 'I know that's ridiculous, but 
there it is. '
Jessica nodded. 'The grendel brought those others -
those huge hands! They must be specialized to the task of 
building dams-'
'Beaver grendels-'
'Brought them a sacrifice. I thought it was food of some 
kind. Apparently it wasn't. The beavers gathered about 
and helped to guide the baby - that's almost certainly what it 
was - around in the pond until it could swim by itself. '


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'Grendels cooperating in a snowstorm. Grendels carrying 
the young of other grendels in their mouths. What in the 
hell were our parents dealing with on Camelot?'
Jessica's right eyebrow went up. 'Retarded grendels?'
'Right. So what do we do? We can destroy this entire 
ecology-'
'Not on your life. '
Jessica took them up another sixty metres. 'Cassandra. 
Route a message to Shangri-La and Camelot. I want an 
alternative path. This is the first such ecology we've found, 
and I want to preserve it. '
'Checking now, ' Cassandra said.
Jessica raised her right eyebrow again. 'Do you have 
any objections to that?'
'No, I'm with you, ' Justin said.
'I was wondering if you thought that it was a little 
flaky. You know - Grendel Cult and all of that?'
Justin was looking down out of the side of the skeeter 
at the shimmering waterhole far beneath them. Within it, 
there was a world that none of them had ever known.
'No. Whatever is going on there, it would be an 
absolute sin to destroy it. '
Jessica twinkled and squeezed his hand. For the first 
time in months, he felt that they were operating on the 
same frequency. She nodded her head happily. 'Thank 
you, ' she said. And then, impulsively, leaned over and 
kissed him on the cheek.
His cheek burned, and he wasn't completely certain 
that he understood why.
Cassandra said, 'Your alternate path is approved. You 
will head west by fifteen degrees-'
The second waterhole was smaller. They'd found a grendel 
carcase lying seven metres away from the water's edge. 
They'd left it untouched. Justin lay thirty metres further


out, flat on his stomach behind a bush, and examined the 
scene through war specs.
'What do you think?' he asked into his mike.
Jessica answered from her vantage point in the skeeter 
above. '/ think that the grendel who owns the waterhole 
got into a fight for supremacy. It must have been some-
thing to see. '
'All right. Hit it. '
She brought the skeeter in to five metres above the 
water and dropped a wad of cotton scented with speed. 
Alien speed, guaranteed to make a grendel crazy.
Justin watched. The skeeter throbbed. The water 
lapped at the edge of the pool.
And nothing else.
Try it again, ' he whispered, and she did. Splash. And 
then nothing.
The sound of his own breathing grew almost unen-
durably loud. There was something wrong here.
Justin stood, tucked his war specs away and 
approached cautiously. 'Keep scanning for infrared. No 
grendel sign?'
'None, ' she said. ' We've scanned that waterhole. There 
are samlon there, but no adult. '
'Then the old adult was killed. How long ago?'
He examined the corpse. It was torn and flattened, but 
he noted some fluttery motion around the edges. He 
backed up, then tore a branch from a nearby tree to use as a 
lever. He lifted the grendel's jaw. 'Scavengers, ' he said. 
'Like the one I saw earlier. Bugs. '
'They're not bugs, ' Jessica said.
'I know, they're obviously related to crabs, like half the 
life on this planet. ' One of the scavengers flew up as he 
exposed it. The motor wings buzzed violently. It circled his 
head, and then settled again. 'Jessica, this carcase is just 
seething with these things. Cassandra, are you recording?'


374
375
 


'Affirmative. This is a new lifeform. '
'I'll get a sample. ' Justin lowered the grendel to the 
ground and took out a collection box. The grendel's hol-
low eye sockets stared at him. A beetle emerged from the 
left socket and flew away to the south with a harsh bur-
ring sound.
The chamels had been watered and grazed, and were 
settled down for the night. Tents had blossomed around 
the waterhole and a defensive perimeter had been estab-
lished.
Aaron was off at the other fire with some of the kaffee-
klatch, and Jessica felt glad of it. Her reconnection with 
Justin was still fragile, still needed time to cement - but 
there might not be time after all. Katya snuggled up to 
him. Jessica tried not to feel anything but she couldn't 
help watching. The two seemed to have settled into a 
rhythm. There were subtle turnings when either of them 
moved, subtle responses of body language when either 
spoke. They were more than lovers. Quietly and without 
fanfare, Justin and Katya had become a couple.
The firelight danced across them as Jessica sipped her 
hot cocoa. At the second fire there was singing, and 
Aaron's strong voice rose above the sound of the guitar.
Justin looked up at Jessica as she left the fireside, and 
smiled. He was happy. They were brother and sister 
again.
There was no reason for the odd sadness that she felt. 
Perhaps it was the loss of Stu. That had to be it.
'I'm going over to the singing, ' she said. 'I don't think 
that I'll be missed too much. '
Katya's head was against Justin, and she grinned up. 
'You and Aaron have a good evening, you hear?'
Jessica nodded.


Only ten metres of space separated the two fires, and in 
crossing it she passed the chamel pen. One of them nuz-
zled up against the wire which confined them. The wire 
carried a light charge. If pressure was applied the charge 
grew stronger. The portable fence could be bundled to 
swing beneath a skeeter.
The chamel nuzzled at her. She stopped to stroke its 
long, delicate neck.
She looked back at her unbrother. Justin and Katya. A 
good couple. Katya was quieter. She would bond more 
quickly. The two of them would probably start making fat 
babies. That would be a good thing. Justin needed to be a 
parent. He wasn't like her, not at all.
She looked over to where Aaron was strumming his 
guitar, head tilted back in song. He was golden, 
Apollonian. Her head swam at the thought of him. He 
was so strong. So... perfect. He made her ache. Just lis-
tening to his laugh, watching the way his head rolled 
back when he sang, when he tossed his hair... she 
wanted him inside her, she wanted to feel the enormous 
power of his body, to feel the fire that drove him igniting 
her.
But when she looked at Justin and Katya she saw a 
gentle thing, a softness. Not at all like the driving hunger 
she felt from Aaron. Jessica went and sat next to Aaron. 
After a while, she laughed, and sang along.
They made love, and as usual it was perfect. Perfect. 
Her body had exploded more times than she could count 
As usual. The perfection of their union was... almost 
predictable. As if he had direct access to her nervous 
system.
If anything was missing it was the experience of explo-
ration. With Toshiro there had been a constant unfolding 
that was lacking with Aaron.


376
377
 


'What are you thinking?' Aaron whispered.
Jessica felt the hard plates of his stomach muscles 
against her back. His left arm circled her waist. His 
right thumb made slow lazy circles around her right 
nipple. Waves of pleasure washed through her. 'Don't, ' 
she said.
'Don't what?'
'Don't... that. '
The pressure stopped. 'OK. ' He paused. She felt his 
heart against her back, strong and slow. 'What are you 
thinking?'
'That I feel more connected to the dream than I do to 
you, Aaron. '
'Is that bad? I read somewhere that love isn't two people 
looking at each other. It's two people looking in the same 
direction. '
She had to smile. 'I read that too. But sometimes, some-
times we have to look at each other as well. '
He rolled over and gazed directly into her eyes. 'You 
don't think that I look at you?'
'Maybe, ' she said. 'I've gone along with everything that 
you wanted. And I've given you everything that I have to 
give. 7 betrayed my father for you. '' Oh God, it was true. 
It wasn't true until she said it. 'I need to know how you 
feel. About us. '
He took her hand, and placed it between his legs. 
Immediately, he began to stiffen.
She gave him a light squeeze. 'Not that. Not... just 
that. I know we turn each other on. That's easy for us. '
'Love, then?'
'I don't know. '
She snuggled her head into the crook of his shoulder, 
saying to herself, as loudly as she dared, Yes, love. Call it 
love. Please, call it love.
He pulled up the blanket, tucking it under her chin, and


sat up effortlessly. She could almost hear the gears grinding 
within his mind. His eyes stared out at the mountains on the 
horizon and the stars above them, and she imagined that 
he could count them all.
'I've given you more than I've given anyone, Jessica. '
'I know, ' she said. 'Am I asking for too much?'
'No, ' he said quietly. 'But you might be asking the 
wrong person. ' There was something that she had never 
heard in his voice before. A moment of self-doubt?
'There's something I've always wanted to ask, ' she said. 
'Was it hard for you? As a child. Not having any one 
family?'
Suddenly his lips curled in a merry smile, and she 
knew, knew that his next response would be prefabricated, 
that the moment of truth which had blossomed between 
them had evaporated. 'It was rough sometimes, but the 
roughest part was not knowing which family to stay with 
on a particular night. Every door was open, ' he said, and 
laughed. 'They were all my family. ' And he laughed 
again.
The doors were open, to come in or to go out. But 
anywhere you can walk away from isn't home. You didn't 
have a home. Flit from one family to another, never deal 
with anything you don't want to deal with. 'Weren't you 
afraid that some day there wouldn't be a door open?'
'No. Why? I didn't do anything wrong. I was always 
who they wanted me to be. ' He turned and kissed her, 
more softly than she could ever remember. His perfect 
hair glowed in the moonlight; his mouth was gentle upon 
hers. 'This is our land, Jessica, ' he said. 'We fought for it, 
and we are the ones to tame it. '
'I know, ' she whispered.
'Our children will own this land. '
His hands were soft on her arms, but she didn't try to 
squirm away from him. Somehow she knew that it would


379
378
 


be useless. His eyes trapped hers, and something within 
them terrified her.
'Our children. Yours and mine. '
He'd said it. Suddenly thoughts, feelings, sensations 
that she had never allowed herself to feel began to blossom 
within her, and she could feel it, feel where a child of 
Aaron's might grow within her, a void that opened like an 
awakening eye. Yes.
'Yes, ' she said. 'I would love to carry your child. '
'No!' he said fiercely. 'You don't understand. The chil-
dren of our bodies, yes, but we can have perfect children. 
Perfect. They can have everything, every advantage. We 
can control their nutrients, their prenatal education... 
everything. '
His whisper was harsh, and his hands grew stronger 
upon her arms. 'We can have a dozen, a hundred children at 
a time, and seed this entire continent with them. '
Her hand stroked his cheek. From the dark of her hind-
brain she felt the hope rising. 'But we don't have to do 
that. I'd be happy-'
'No!' And her hand froze where it was. 'My children 
will be perfect. ' He blinked, and then smiled, almost shyly. 
'At least, as perfect as we can make them. '
Permission. She didn't have to be pregnant. Swollen, 
clumsy, imprisoned... But a tiny part of her had awakened 
and was watching him, sensing something wrong.
He babbled on. 'They will be our children. And they 
will own this land. You ask me if I love you. Can I come 
any closer than that? Do those words mean anything to 
you? Anything at all?' His weight was on her, and Jessica 
tried to fight. No. She wasn't ready emotionally. There 
was too much...
Truth?
In the air between them. She needed a moment to pre-
pare herself, to slip back into the comfortable shell of


sensuality she understood so well, nurtured by Sir John 
Woodruff and The Perfumed Garden, and the 
Quodoshka and the manuals of Taoist sexuality, and the 
erotic works of a world left far behind. But this moment 
wasn't one of the complex, artistically perfect couplings 
she had known with Aaron Tragon. This was something 
too damned similar to rape. She could call out, and it 
would stop - but so would any link between them. His 
was a need so deep that it burned. The hands on her, the 
mouth upon her, the thighs, hot and hard, that forced her 
legs open were somehow vulnerably, endearingly clumsy.
This wasn't the man she knew and loved. This was 
almost a boy, a boy who needed something that she 
couldn't quite bring herself to give.
And so he took it.
And took it.
And she pushed at him, and tore at him, and came to 
the edge, but didn't quite call out for help. And Aaron 
held her more tightly than he ever had, more insistently, 
his body one driving urgency.
He arched and flushed, his face suffused with a kind of 
ecstatic, incandescent madness, his eyes, looking off to 
the horizon as he spasmed, seeing... what? What world of 
spires and mazes? What cities and glorious constructions 
of the far future? What world-girdling belt of roads and 
skyways that he might never live to see, but which 
children unborn might inherit?
Or did he see something else? His god, the grendel, 
perched upon a kill, perhaps his own torn corpse? And 
was this moment, and all of the other moments which 
they had had together, nothing but a means of staving 
that moment off, of giving it some kind of meaning?
Did Aaron and her father share the same nightmare?
And was that why she loved them both?


380
381
 


Aaron collapsed on top of her. His breath was hot and 
sweet against her, his hands curled up around her shoul-
ders, his face tucked into her breast. She stroked his head 
and whispered to him, and knew that something had 
changed between them. She wasn't certain what, or what it 
would cost them. She knew only that there would be a 
cost, as certainly as Tau Ceti rose and set upon both Man 
and Grendel.


25 - Asia Minor
O mistress mine! where are you roaming? O! stay and 
hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high 
and low. Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in 
lovers meeting. Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night (c 1601)


They were calling the Scribe 'Asia'.
'It's not that big, ' Jessica said, giggling, but Ruth's 
name stuck anyway.
Aaron had made time and commandeered NickNack, 
and all had to come to see Asia. He'd brought Ruth Mos-
kowitz and both of their chamels. Justin wondered what 
Jessica thought of that. He hadn't seen her in two days.
Ruth and Aaron rode Zwieback and Silver along the 
Scribe's long blue lip. One great eye was tracking them.
'Not there, ' Justin said into the comlink. 'Aaron, see 
me? I'm on the rise east of you, with four tall horsemane 
trees behind me. Asia will go around the trees. You'll get a 
great view of the lifeforms on her back... '
Why bother? They were halting now, both chamels,


382
383
 


much too close to one of the great eyes. He hadn't really 
expected Aaron to take suggestions.
Anyway, were they really in danger? Asia flowed like a 
continent across the savannah. Or like a crippled old 
woman; you could observe motion. Justin sighed and 
raised his war specs. He and Ruth would get here eventu-
ally. It was nearly lunch time and their lunch was on its 
way, packed in the belly of a skeeter.
Even the chamels didn't seem nervous. One huge eye 
gazed upon them, and that would have had Justin twitchy. 
Ruth was gaping in delight and awe.
That didn't surprise Justin. But Aaron was doing that, 
too: mouth open, face empty. Had any human being ever 
seen him like this? Aaron suddenly turned Zwieback and 
trotted toward the hill. Ruth followed, belatedly.
Over the next hour most of the survey team gathered 
on the hill - skeeter, trikes, and all - to watch the passing 
of Asia.
The trees were festooned with wet blue blankets.
The Earth Born insisted that Cadzie Blue blankets must 
go everywhere humans went on the continent. It was 
nearly their only demand, and not so onerous as all that; 
but the blankets didn't arrive clean. Mothers borrowed 
them first. Babies lived in them for a few days. The Earth 
Born never had to wash their baby blankets; they just sent 
them to the mainland.
And the survey team had finally had it with the smell. 
They'd been washing blankets in what had been a grendel 
lake and was now a samlon reservoir. Clean blankets 
would dry while Asia passed.
Pterodons were wheeling above the Scribe; more held 
station above the watching humans. Ruth presently said, 
'Justin? The pterodons?'
'I pointed them out to Little Chaka. Then I had to listen 
to him lecture. '


'They're eyes for the Scribe!'
'That's what Chaka thinks. The Scribe can't see 
through grass, but she can look up and see where the 
pterodons are. Early warning system. If something came 
right at an eye she'd see it when it got close... but what the 
hell would she do then, dodge? For that matter, what 
would a Scribe be afraid of?'
'A cliff?' Ruth glanced sideways at Aaron, but he main-
tained his silence. 'She'd see a cliff before she went over. 
And the pterodons would show her where water was, 
wouldn't they? Where there's water, there's carrion. 
Where there are grendels, they'd fly higher. '
'I don't think Asia gives an icy damn about grendels, ' 
Aaron said. 'Ruth, a million years from now we still won't 
have found a bigger land beast. '
'Breeding, ' Ruth said.
Justin frowned the question.
'How do Scribes find each other?'
'Maybe they're hermaphrodites. '
Ruth shook her head. 'Maybe, but-'
'Or maybe baby Scribe-beasts are the males, ' Aaron 
said. 'That's how grendels work it. '
Jessica remembered what it had cost the First to learn 
that not only were samlon immature grendels, but they 
were all males. They became females when they made 
the transformation from a fish-like swimmer that lived 
largely on pond scum to the adult amphibious omni-
vore.
'But think, the paths cross, ' Ruth said.
'Or used to cross, ' Justin said thoughtfully. 'Cassandra, 
consider the Scribes. Is it likely that the crossing patterns of 
their paths is random?'
'There is negligible probability that the crossings were 
caused by random walks, ' Cassandra said. 'I record seven 
cases in which the paths altered to approach each other.


384
385
 


This is from records of past decades. At present the prob-
ability that the paths will cross is under ten per cent. '
'They're avoiding each other now?'
'It would so appear. '
'Son of a bitch, ' Justin said. 'First they cross, now they 
don't. I betcha Ruth is right. The pterodons guide them, 
and now they're steering them away from each other. '
'Why would that be?' Aaron demanded.
'Avalon Surprise!' Ruth shouted in glee. 'Actually, I 
think it's got something to do with Edgar's variable star. 
The weather's changing, and the Scribes-'
Aaron wasn't listening. He was staring out at the Scribe.
Justin joined the group who were loading food on the 
tables. Cold snouter meat, turkey and turkey eggs, veg-
etables and heads of lettuce from Camelot. The mainland 
crops weren't in yet. A glass cauldron of water was begin-
ning to boil. Katya and Little Chaka zipped open a bag 
that held water and three wriggling samlon and tilted 
them into the pot. Chaka chopped rapidly with his wand 
of a chainsaw at a stack of root vegetables, then threw 
them in in handfuls.
Aaron said, long and low, 'Wow!'
The edge of Asia's shell was scraping the rocky out-
cropping at the foot of the hill. Aaron stood at the hill's 
crest, not eating. Justin, with a turkey leg in his hand, 
tried to guess what Aaron was seeing. He'd never before 
heard Aaron say 'Wow!'
The rippling blue lip was nearly hidden. They caught 
glimpses...
'Wow, ' Justin repeated softly. He turned and shouted, 
'Hey!' Heads turned. 'The lips!' Justin shouted. 'The lips 
are the only soft part of the beast! Everything else is 
armoured. Why don't the grendels tear into the lips?'
Little Chaka left his place at the soup pot and came 
trotting to look. Justin cried, 'Chaka, it's Cadzie Blue!'


Aaron whooped and began running. Justin saw him 
snatch the chainsaw from its place on a flat rock.
Chaka looked down, nodding. 'Poison, likely enough. 
There are lifeforms on Earth that signal like that, with 
some distinctive colour. Snakes and insects and such. "I'm 
poison, get away. " Sometimes it's a bluff. Yes, that 
would... that would do it. The baby's blanket. '
Aaron slowed as he approached Zwieback. Zwieback 
didn't shy; Ruth had trained him well. He spoke to the 
beast, then swung up. Zwieback began to move, to run. As 
he did, he faded from view. Justin watched, shaking his head 
and grinning.
They all stood at the edge of the cliff. Ruth was horrified. 
Justin was trying to find admiration in himself for Aaron. 
Admiration was all around him, at any rate, for the flying 
man on the nearly invisible chamel. Aaron rode straight 
toward the leading edge of Asia, then turned sharply to 
ride along her endless prow. The great eye of Asia watched 
placidly.
Aaron reached out with the slender wand of the chain-
saw, and slashed and leaned far forward and snatched. He 
rode away waving half a square metre of blue flag.
Chaka said to Justin, 'Camelot has your photos, you 
know. Cassandra has the view through your war specs 
and Katya's. If that's Cadzie Blue it's a wonder Cassandra 
hasn't told us. '
Justin shrugged. 'Cassie's got ice on her mind too. ' The 
computer programme had been damaged in the first grendel 
attack. Recovering most of its memory had been the task 
of years. Lost medical techniques were still killing people.
Asia was just beginning to react. Her eyes closed. Her 
prow dipped to the earth, closing her off to the world. 
Now she was all earth-coloured shell, a shallow butte 
sparsely covered with nests.


387
386
 


Aaron pulled up whooping, just short of the dining 
table. The dead Scribeskin, taken with an edge of 22nd-
century sharpness, was only two or three millimetres 
thick. It was already beginning to wrinkle.
Aaron swung down, holding the swatch of blue high in 
one hand. Ruth was there. He swept her into his arms. 
And kissed her hard.
Ruth whispered in his ear.
Aaron froze. Then, 'Wonderful!' he said cordially. 
'Your family will be so pleased!' He strode past her. 
Justin saw the shock on her face, and wondered for an 
instant, but he had to watch as Aaron let the slice of skin 
settle like a veil across a tree spread with Cadzie Blue 
blankets.
Justin turned away to hide the grin he couldn't stop.
Yes, it was Justin's idea. And if Aaron hadn't done 
something, Justin might have had the credit for solving 
Avalon's murder of Joe Sikes and Linda Weyland. But 
Aaron had stolen his thunder... and it had blown up in his 
hand.
Against the Cadzie Blue blankets, the thin piece of 
Scribeskin was conspicuously pale. The skin was the 
wrong colour. Anyone could see it. Heads were shaking; 
Aaron was furious.
Ruth... Ruth handed Silver and Zwieback over to 
Katya, then spoke in low tones to Little Chaka. She 
pointed to Skeeter II, and then again toward distant 
Shangri-La. Chaka nodded. Ruth sat down next to him 
and stared at the ground.
It was a gorgeous, brilliant morning at Shangri-La. Clouds 
raced across the sky in streamers. The breeze was stiff 
and warm; still air would have made it an oven. The 
light... well. Dawn light had been different when Ruth


was a child. Less dazzling, less... active? And Sol was 
even cooler than Tau Ceti, they said...
Less than two hours by Little Chaka's skeeter, and she 
was back at the base camp, back in a world where she 
didn't have to ache every time she looked at Aaron Tragon.
Horsemane trees stood huge and ancient along the eastern 
edge of the plateau that held their base camp. A ladder rose 
along the bare side of the biggest and oldest tree. Big Chaka 
held the ladder's foot. Little Chaka, at the top, reached 
around the bare side of the trunk and probed with a stick 
at the mane. A bit more than halfway up the tree, 
something hidden was nipping at his stick. Shortening it in 
three-centimetre bites.
The Chakas might not have noticed a group of long-
armed crabs in the tree's peak. Three now, each as big as a 
small dog, leaned out of the brilliant foliage as they peered 
down at the intruders. Ruth fished for her comlink card 
without taking her eyes off the crabs.
Then she relaxed, because Edgar Sikes was on the far 
side of the tree with his face wrapped in war specs, and 
both Chakas were looking up. Edgar must have warned 
them. He was twitchy about top crabs, wasn't he? These 
might be related to the Camelot variety-
Something fell slantwise from the sky. It smacked into 
one of the top crabs and knocked it free.
Trees hid the rest of the action, and Ruth mewed in 
frustration. Her hand was on the card now, and she put it to 
her mouth and ear and-
'Cassandra! Did you get that?' Edgar's voice.
'I have views through Chaka Junior's war specs and 
yours, Edgar. Processing. '
'Yah!' Edgar ran for the mess hall. Saw Ruth. Ran over, 
snatched her wrist and continued running. Startled at first, 
Ruth let him pull her; then laughed and tried to pull ahead.


389
388
 


She was barely keeping up. And some masochistic part 
of her didn't want the exhilaration. She had earned her 
pain, dammit, and... oh, what the heck. It felt good to 
run. You couldn't mope when you were running.
They passed over the drawbridge, ran past the open 
gate of the electrified fence, guard dogs yipping their greet-
ing. Past a happy maze of half-erected buildings: bare 
wooden beams, naked iron struts, plastic shells, drop-
clothed wireframes.
The mess hall was a rounded half-cylinder in the main 
square. It was constructed of fabric on semicircular struts, 
sprayed with quick-setting foam. It had been the first 
building erected, seven months before, and had served as 
both dormitory and cafeteria for weeks. Serving trays 
were an arc along the back. The big holostage was 
unfolded in its centre and Ruth made for that. Edgar was 
puffing, but heyyy, Edgar used to be a cripple!
Trish Chance, eating alone at the far end, stared at the 
intrusion. Edgar sang, 'Trish!'
'Don't have time, Edgar. Got a veldtbound skeeter to 
catch in about fifteen minutes. Hi, Ruth. '
'Make time, this time, just this once, ' Edgar said. 
'Cassandra, you done?'
'Twenty seconds. '
Trish had lost interest.
It was hard to believe the rumours: that Edgar and 
Trish were lovers. Trish didn't act like it, and she was 
nothing like him. Ruth said with some diffidence, 'Trish, 
he's really got something. '
Trish smiled one-sided, finished her breakfast cereal in a 
leisurely fashion and came over just as Cassandra turned 
down the lights. Then they were looking through a blur-
edged window at a stand of horsemane trees.
The recording wasn't particularly sharp; a war-specs 
headset wasn't that good. Top crabs leaned from the


thickly grown treetop, waved menacing claws at the oblivious 
man below.
'Slow motion, Cassie, ' Edgar said.
It all slowed like a dream. Little Chaka looked up-
Even in slow motion, the predator was still falling like a 
grendel on speed. Cassandra paused it in flight: a triangular 
airfoil with sharp horns jutting from the forward corners; 
eyes on stalks just inboard of the horns; oversized oar-
shaped motor fins aft.
Then motion again. The eyestalks retracted; the 
marauder slewed sideways in the moment before it 
impacted one of the treetop crabs. One horn smashed 
directly into the shell, piercing it. The impact flung the top 
crab into space, threw it free of the horn.
The top crab hit the ground hard. The predator cor-
rected its spin, pulled up, skimmed the dirt, wheeled 
around and was on the dying crab. It flipped the crab 
over, ripped away the ventral shell and began to feed.
'That was from your POV, Edgar. From Chaka's-'
Big Chaka made his slow way into the mess hall with 
his son alongside. 'Hello, Ruth. Trish. Edgar, you get that 
too?'
'Yes sir. You show me yours, Little Chaka, and I'll 
show you mine. '
'Cassandra, if you will oblige. '
'Chaka Junior, your view was from underneath. ' Close 
view of a horsemane tree's bare trunk, a stick probing the 
green mane. Something small and mammaloid was snapping 
at the stick with long mini-hyena jaws, glaring through 
Cassandra's magic window with murderous eyes. Suddenly 
the view swung straight up. A variety of Avalon crab was 
studying them, its arms waving restlessly, claws snapping.
Pause. 'Observe the claws, ' Cassandra said. A cursor 
arrow indicated the top crab. 'Here they're much longer


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391
 


than on our two Camelot varieties. Chaka, shall we des-
ignate this-'
'Sikes' Top Crab Type 1, ' Big Chaka said firmly. Edgar 
looked around with an unbelieving grin. Ruth smiled to 
see it.
'As you wish. '
Motion resumed. Something smashed into the crab, 
knocked it into space, clung for a moment, then sepa-
rated... and it all froze. The cursor arrow moved to the 
predator, which from underneath was nearly featureless. 
'Here the claws are recessed, almost invisible, and the 
mouth likewise. The eyes are retracted. Now-' Motion: 
the predator was spinning out of control. Eyes emerged, 
then paddle-shaped fins adjusted: its spin stopped in an 
instant. Paddles played as the creature dropped. Canards 
emerged in front. It actually brushed the grass pulling up, 
swung back like a guided missile, and-braked.
Its claws were airfoils, canards. Retracted, they fit 
recesses that faired the crabshell into a smooth hull. Its 
mouth was startling: huge and square, not just a mouth 
but an air-brake too. The thing hovered for an instant, 
with claws extended and mouth wide, then dropped onto 
the dying top crab. It was the claws that did the work of 
ripping the shell open and tearing the meat into gobbets.
The view shifted: Cassandra was running Edgar's view 
again. A reincarnated top crab chittered from a treetop. 
Something dived from the sky in slow motion...
Trish Chance said, 'Ruthie, when you do talk, you're 
worth hearing. Guys, that was fun, but I'm off to see the 
Scribe. '
Ruth glowed. And didn't notice Trish's overdone wink, 
nor Edgar's nod.
'The Scribe. I've only seen it on the holostage, ' Edgar 
said. 'Is it as awesome-?'
'More. They're calling it "Asia". '


But the enthusiasm had leaked out of her, and Edgar 
noticed. 'Aaron's still out there?'
'Yeah. Did you hear? Aaron thought he'd solved the 
killings, Linda and Joe. He didn't and he's furious... ' 'He's 
there, and you're here. Anything happen?' She paused 
awkwardly. Then: 'I told him I'm pregnant. '
Edgar stared. Gently he asked, 'How long?' 'I've only 
known for about two weeks. It was that long before I got 
up the nerve to ask Cassandra. ' 'What's he think?'
'He said, "Your family will be so pleased. " Then 
changed the subject. '
'He'll never be Father of the Year, but he'll try to keep 
your dad happy. There were too many close votes on per-
sonnel, ' Edgar said. 'Lord knows Zack would rather 
French-kiss a grendel than trust me. Camelot got hit with 
one of those weird flash-typhoons last week. Zack walked 
into Comm Control drenched. I said, "It seems to be rain-
ing", and he went for a second opinion. '
'Is that why Aaron keeps me around? Some of the  
time? Nobody talks to me but you, Edgar. I know I don't 
own him, but when Jessica's around it's like I don't even 
exist. '
   He nodded. 'No. You don't own him. But that's no reason 
for him to treat you like sleet, either. Ruth, I'll shut up any 
time I'm told to. '     'Oh, no, Edgar. '
    'OK. Do you really think you were needed to distract 
Carolyn McAndrews?'
    She looked away. 'No. ' And began moving off.     ' 
'Course not. Carolyn would have let Trish walk right up 
to her. ' Edgar pursued her. 'So it follows that Aaron 
didn't have to seduce you just to get your help stealing 
Robor. '


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392
 


She seemed astonished. 'No!' Then suddenly grinned. 
'But he sent Trish to you. '
'Sent Trish Chance to distract me. Then I think he told 
her to stop. Trish doesn't take orders worth a damn, you 
know. '
Ruth had reached the coffee vat. She drew two cups 
and tried to fill them, still without looking at Edgar. The 
vat was empty. 'We're going to seed coffee in the hills 
around Point Ten, ' she said.
'Below where the snow grendels popped up?'
'Yeah. '
'That's a kicky notion. Snow grendels were bad enough 
without coffee nerves. So, have you told your parents?'
'About what?'
'About the plans for a coffee crop, ' Edgar said gently.
Ruth looked up, smiling bravely. 'About the baby, you 
mean. No. I haven't told them. '
'How long since you last talked to them?'
'None of your business. '
'Right. ' Edgar plucked the two cups out of her hand. 
'Come with me. '
He walked away without looking back. Ruth dithered, 
then followed. Followed him into the big tent that 
belonged to Edgar and a junkyard of computer equip-
ment and the little cappuccino device that had been with 
him since the magic hurricane.
He made cappuccino in silence save for the ear splitting 
shriek of steam jetting into milk. Ruth took the cup from 
him and said, 'I'm sorry. I don't mean to shut you up. '
'OK. When?'
'Once since we got the go-ahead to come here. I 
couldn't stay in Camelot, Edgar. The way they looked at 
me! But Aaron took me with him - this far - and it wasn't 
that I wasn't taking mom's calls, it was just I was always 
somewhere else. I talked to her once. A month


ago. But dad never calls. He talks to Aaron and says to say 
"Hi". '
'You could call. '
'I should call. I know I should call. '
'Better talk to your mother first. Colony psychiatrist, 
she'll have a good idea how your dad will take it. '
She nodded. 'I should call. '
'Take your coffee with you. '
She didn't move. She sipped, not looking at him. He 
asked, 'You don't want me listening, do you?'
She considered. She said, 'Yes. '


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394
 


26 - Demons
No one who, like me, conjures up the most evil 
of those half-tamed demons that inhabit the 
human breast, and seeks to wrestle with them, 
can expect to come through the struggle 
unscathed.
Sigmund Freud, Complete Psychological Works
(1953-8)
Cadmann Weyland slammed his fist down on the table 
next to the chair. Coffee splashed on his pants and the 
rug. Rachael, Zack's wife and the colony psychologist, 
shook her head ruefully. 'Cadmann - all the way from 
Fafnir Ridge to end up on my throw rug? What a waste!'
Cadmann dropped six paper napkins on the spreading 
stain and put his foot on the napkins. 'I'm sorry. I really 
am. Rachael, I just don't feel right. I haven't for months. '
'Years, ' she said quietly. 'Almost a century now. '
He didn't turn to look at her.
'None of us have really been ourselves since we left 
Earth, ' she said. 'If we didn't have Hibernation Instability, 
we worried because we might. And if we managed to con-
vince ourselves that we didn't, then we had to worry about 
everyone else. We had to change the entire design of the 
colony to provide fail-safe mechanisms. Backups to 
backups, in case somebody, somewhere, ended up with an 
ice crystal we hadn't counted on. '
'We did a good job, ' Cadmann said.
'And then the children were growing up, ' she went on.


She was playing with a desk hologram. It rotated in front of 
her, a puzzle consisting of a blue globe and wires and a box 
of sticks. When she touched a piece it flashed. When she 
moved her finger to another location, the piece moved with 
her. She made a mistake, and the blue globe fell to the 
ground and shattered. It re-formed in the air above the desk, 
and she continued.
'We passed our fears to our children. But they were our 
fears, not theirs. '
'Not all of them' Cadmann said.
'The nightmares?'
He nodded. 'We never talk about them, not really, but 
the children know that their parents wake up screaming. 
They know. '
'But you're not dreaming of grendels now, are you?'
A professional question, and he answered as a patient. 
'No. I dream of the night up on that dirigible. When 
Toshiro climbed up behind me When I turned and fired. ' 
His eyes were tired, and his voice. He felt as old as God. 
'But I dream Toshiro is a grendel. He's about to eat Ernst. 
Nobody sees it but me. '
'They had no right to take the dirigible. '
'Well, no, but by their lights they did, Rachael. They 
could even believe they had a duty. We denied them the 
right. And we had no justification for that. Not really. 
They are what we used to be!' He threw his head back and 
laughed bitterly. 'God, I remember what it was to be their 
age. Young and dumb and full of cum. Ready for any-
thing, and eager to handle it. That was what we were! 
What we all were! And what did we turn them into? 
Pranksters. Carving buttocks onto ice cliffs. Hacking into 
Cassandra. Flare-surfing off the coast. We gave them no 
useful place to put their courage. We called them cowards 
and weaklings. And they know it's something wrong with 
us.


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396
 


'Cadmann... '
He spun. 'Did you see the attack on the mesa? Did you 
see Cassandra's playback? Six grendels. Six adult grendels, 
and the kids took them. One boy died. One grendel got 
away. Completely hostile weather conditions, a new 
attack pattern. One loss. ' The pride in his voice was some-
thing that she hadn't heard in him since the night on the 
dirigible, and she let him go on.
'Those are our children. They can take that land. Not 
us. We deserve to stay here. And they had to show us. 
They had to force the issue, because God knows that we 
never would have. '
She had managed to extract a stick from the blue ball, 
and it was delicately balanced. So far so good...
'What did you want to talk about, Cadmann?'
'Aaron. ' He spoke the two syllables flatly. 'Aaron bothers 
me. '
'Aaron, ' she said. The blue ball fell and cracked. A 
chick emerged, grew to adulthood, flew to the floating 
nest of sticks and laid a blue egg.
Rachael asked, 'Why?'
'I talked with Justin about that before they left. I've 
talked to everyone that I could, except you. And now I 
have to do that. Something is wrong. He was the author of a 
situation. '
'Yes?'
'When he took Robor, there was no way for him to 
lose. I don't mean lose the dirigible, I mean... He thought 
more deeply into this than any of us did, understood in 
advance every move that we could make, and probably 
had a way to counter it. At the end, half of humankind 
would be on the mainland, and all under his command. '
'And you're feeling intimidated?'
Cadmann shook his head. 'He wins. But only if he's 
ready to sacrifice... well, a scapegoat to be named at a


later date. I mean, Toshiro was his friend, and his death 
just played right into the scenario. Anyone could have 
died in that slot. Not just one, but several. '
Rachael sat back. The blue ball slipped free of its final 
constraint, and spun happily in the air before her.
'Cadmann - what are you saying?'
'I'm not saying, I'm asking. Is there something wrong 
with Aaron?'
'Your wife thinks so. '
'And Joe and Linda did, ' Cadmann said. 'Not many 
more. You don't, do you?'
'No. ' A long pause. 'What is it you suspect?'
'I keep wondering if there might not be some connection 
to the artificial wombs. To the way they were raised. '
'You're worried about some super-sociopathic pat-
terns?'
'Yes, ' he said, and his voice sounded small, even to 
him.
She was studying him, he thought. Afraid of him. 
'Cadmann - you were in combat. Didn't you have to face 
the reality that some of your men would die in a military 
action?'
'Of course. '
'Couldn't Aaron see it that way?'
He frowned. 'I suppose. You know, I never thought 
about it that way. '
'We don't call you a sociopath just because you're 
capable of taking casualties to further a cause. '
'You don't now, ' Cadmann said. 'But I recall when 
that's precisely what you called me, and for precisely that 
reason. '
'Cadmann-'
His smile was thin, and he spoke each word slowly 
and distinctly. 'You've kept records on every one of us. 
From the very beginning, on Earth, when we were chosen,


398
399
 


to the discovery of Hibernation Instability, to where everyone 
thought I murdered Ernst-'
'Cadmann-'
He brought his face closer to hers. His expression of 
cynical amusement hadn't changed. 'And you decided I 
was crazy. Right there in the clinic, you staked me out for 
the grendel. '
'We didn't know about grendels!'
'But I did, and I told you. '
'Cadmann, that was a long time ago. '
'Yeah. And I can never, will never forget that night. ' He 
straightened and smiled, this time more genuinely, but 
still very distantly. 'Want to talk about nightmares?' He 
sat carefully, his eyes never leaving hers. 'All right, let's 
talk about nightmares. I'm the only one on this planet 
who has ever come face-to-face with one of those things 
and survived. Close enough to kiss it. Close enough to 
have all the time I needed to imagine it tearing me apart. I 
have dreamed of it killing and eating me ten thousand 
times. Unless I completely overestimate you, you've talked 
to Sylvia and Mary Ann about me, just as I've talked to 
you about Mary Ann. And it's all gone into Cassandra. '
Rachael sat pointedly silent.
'I want the files on Aaron. '
'For what purpose?'
'I don't know, exactly. Look, we both know he'll do 
nearly anything - maybe not just nearly - to reach his 
goals. So I want to know more about what those goals 
are. What's he really up to?'
She shrugged. 'You're the security chief. Tell Cassandra 
it's an emergency. '
'I thought of that, ' Cadmann said. 'I probably could 
bully Cassandra into giving me your files. I'd rather do it 
officially with your cooperation. ' His calm slipped a little. 
'Please. My son and daughter are over there. The children


of the woman I love most in this world. ' He dropped his 
head. 'Mary Ann is just holding on, you know? And she's 
shut me out... '
'Excuse me?'
Cadmann looked out of the window, across the fields, to 
the biology building, up to the stone stack of Mucking 
Great Mountain where the pterodons wheeled in eternal 
mist.
'We haven't been man and wife since the day Toshiro 
died. She just pushed me toward Sylvia. '
He paused, as if waiting for Rachael to say something. 
The silence stretched almost another minute.
'I thought once... that what I wanted was Sylvia. But not 
like this. Mary Ann gave her love to me. And now she can't 
let me in. ' He lowered his voice. There's something about 
her now. Something... translucent. It is as if I can see light 
through her. As if she barely wants to be here any more. Like 
she's not even certain why she is holding on. '
'And you think you can help her?'
He nodded.
'By showing her she was right, ' Rachael suggested. 
'Aaron is a monster, and only she knew. '
Cadmann looked up. 'I hadn't thought of it in-'
'Ruth's pregnant. '
'You've talked to her? Good. I worried about... that. 
How long?'
'Two months, she thinks. Cadmann, I'm not supposed to 
ferret out all your secrets. There has to be privacy. I 
haven't - Aaron could keep his secrets, but now he's 
probed my daughter! I'll look. Maybe I'll tell you what I 
find, and maybe I won't. '
Cadmann stood up. 'Thank you, ' he said, and walked 
out the door before he could say more.
Rachael Moskowitz sat behind her desk.
Her body felt tired, but her mind was very much alive.


400
401
 


Of all the Earth Born who had been frozen at Hecate 
Town on the Earth's Moon, stacked aboard Geographic, 
thawed and refrozen for tasks aboard Geographic during 
their trip across ten light years and two hundred years of 
time, and finally thawed for the last time on Avalon's 
alien soil... only Rachael Moskowitz knew herself 
undamaged. Only Rachael could know that. And that was 
both a blessing and a curse.
She wasn't certain about Cadmann. What he had been 
through was traumatic, but it was long ago. A man like 
that ought to have put it out of his life, but he hadn't. 
None of them had really been able to put the Grendel 
Wars behind them.
'Cassandra, ' she said. 'Aaron Tragon. Psychological 
evaluation file. '
Cadmann took the skeeter up and into Mucking Great 
Mountain, toward the fortress which, years before, had 
been mankind's only bastion against the grendels.
Now it was vines and crops, pens for those animals of 
Earth and Avalon which could exist side by side. The 
mountain stream Amazon brought ice cold water into 
their home and nurtured their fields. Then it joined the 
Miskatonic, to bring life to the entire valley.
He spiralled the skeeter down to the landing pad with 
hardly a bump. Sylvia joined him at the pad, her golden 
hair flowing behind her. She looked like an angel.
She kissed him lightly. Before Cadmann could ask the 
question, Sylvia said: 'She's sleeping. '
He nodded. He slipped his arm around her waist and 
they walked into the house together, through the fragrant 
living room.
In the centre of the house was the common bathroom, 
with the big triangular tub and the steam-shower.


Once upon a time he might have had daydreams... two 
women that he loved, both married to him... it was easy to 
let erotic fantasies run wild. But it had never really worked 
out like that.
In the second and third year of their three-way rela-
tionship there had been some gentle explorations of the 
sensual potential. Massaging and group dancing, and 
even sleeping three in a bed on cold nights. But it had 
become clear that this was happening out of Mary Ann's 
attempt to be what she thought he wanted in a wife, and 
not from any urge on her part. And so he had called a halt 
to it.
There were other occasions, once at Christmas, and 
once on his 50th birthday, when he found himself bedded 
by both of his beloved, But they were tolerating each 
other's presence; there was no genuine joy in the intimacy. 
And, knowing that Mary Ann would do almost anything to 
keep her man happy, he began to see it as a variety of 
child abuse.
The three of them kept separate bedrooms, and there 
was a gentle ebb and flow of interest between them. He 
would visit their rooms, or they his, and the spontaneity of it 
consisted of offerings and acceptance or rejection earlier in 
the day. That situation had continued for years.
Within the last four months, Mary Ann had lost all 
interest in lovemaking.
Sylvia ran her fingers through Cadmann's hair and gazed at 
a scar just at the hairline, a faded, faint white line just 
barely visible to her eyes against the fringe of grey and 
black. 'I don't think I've ever seen this scar before. '
She was close to him, the slowly ebbing heat of her 
still warming him, as it always did. In every way she was a 
comfort. 'I'm not sure, ' he said.
'Right here. ' She brushed it and then blew a little warm


402
403
 


air along it, ruffling his hair. 'I can't imagine why I never 
saw it before... '
'There's a first time for everything. That one is a 
memento from Zimbabwe. Shrapnel. My hair hid it. Until 
recently. '
She sighed and cuddled closer. 'Oh well, the women in 
my family go for that increasingly-high-forehead look. '
'Ha ha. '
'No... really. You lucked out. '
They were quiet then again. The twin moons were both 
high, and their light silvered the bedposts.
'What did Rachael have to say?'
'She'll look. ' He traced a line along Sylvia's neck and 
then clasped her shoulder firmly. He kissed it. 'I wanted to 
thank you for how you've been with... Mary Ann, ' he said.
She pooh-poohed him. 'For what? I haven't done any-
thing. '
'I know that you look at it that way. That's one of the 
reasons I love you. '
'Just one of them, though. '
'Just one. '
They lay quietly together and listened to the sound of 
the Amazon and the cooing of the Joeys. Clouds were 
drifting in from the east. Later, they would obscure the 
moon, but not now.
'Are you thinking about the kids?'
He nodded his head. 'And about myself. And who I 
was, when I started this trip. '
'The journey here?' she said, knowing that wasn't what 
he meant.
'No. The whole thing. Is that a sign of getting old?'
'What?'
He laughed at himself. 'Not asking complete questions. 
Wishing that there was someone who could read your 
mind. '


'No, that's infantile behaviour. ' She bit his chest lightly, 
nibbling with sharp teeth.
'Well, that's a relief. '
'I'll bet. '
'What I meant was that I think back over my life. 
Everyone I know is dead, or here on Avalon. Ghosts. '
'It doesn't help that they've never contacted us, ' she 
said.
'Never. Not for eighteen years. Christ. What happened 
back there?'
'We could feed the files in. Want to see them?'
'It's been so long. Sure. Go ahead. '
Cadmann sat up. He turned a physical switch that gave 
the computer access to his private bedroom. 'Cassandra. '
It was said that Cassandra should be allowed to see 
everything at all times, that her security was absolute. 
Cadmann had to laugh. There was no electronic security in 
a world which contained an Edgar Sikes. There were only 
mechanical barriers.
'Please play back the most recent communique from 
Earth. '
'Loading now, Cadmann, ' she said.
The wall in front of them dissolved.
There was a blast of music and then a sound of laughter. 
The words A MESSAGE FROM EARTH floated there in neon, 
garish red.
And there followed a kaleidoscope of images: Art 
exhibits in Milan. Starvation in Beirut. The inauguration of 
the United Nations Presidium. Images of sports. A string 
of faces, name-dropping at grendel speed. A play with a 
London background. Some chitchat from the outer system 
colonies.
Each of these could be expanded upon and investi-
gated, and they had been, endlessly. The play was 
detective fiction with missing clues. The inauguration


404
405
 


might be fiction too, given that the Secretary-General was a 
dead ringer for the 1960s' Richard Nixon. Ballet in lunar 
gravity had become a strange new sport. Even the 
familiar sports events followed complex new rules, never 
described. The sound bites were no more interesting than 
the photo opportunities.
Ultimately, there was just nothing there.
It was like the Encyclopaedia Britannica as designed by 
social scientists. There was emotion, but no real informa-
tion. And the emotional inference was a culture so 
fatuously delighted with itself, that it was blind to the 
efforts of unspeakably vast and numerous generations of 
human beings to get them there.
Sylvia toyed with the images, trying to find something 
new. Stopping and moving forward, and stopping again, 
and finding nothing. Nothing at all.
And then a human shape walked through the dancing 
light.
What Cadmann had taken for another image from the 
Earth message was his wife.
Mary Ann was naked, her head down as if she were 
sleepwalking, her swollen, ungainly limbs more pitiful 
when not covered by well cut cloth. She raised her face 
and stared at the pair of them, and the impression of near 
sleepwalking was still strong. 'I... I heard music, ' she 
said. 'Sounds. Street sounds. '
Cadmann reached out and turned the video down. 
There was a little-girl quality to Mary Ann's voice that he 
recognized. She came and sat on the edge of the bed, 
staring at the images. She pointed into the midst of them at 
an image of the Canadian Rockies.
'I've been there, ' she said. 'I grew up not too far from 
there. '
Cadmann and Sylvia were silent.
'I'd like to see them again one day, ' she said, and then


waited. There was no comment from either of them, and 
Mary Ann suddenly seemed to understand what she had 
said. Her hand went over4ier mouth.
'Oops. I guess I can't do that, can I?'
'We could go virtual, ' Sylvia said softly.
Mary Ann nodded. 'I'd like that. I'd like that very 
much, ' she said. And she curled up at the edge of the bed 
like a cat, watching the images playing in the air in front of 
her.
Cadmann said nothing, watching Mary Ann. She didn't 
move again, didn't speak, but her eyes were open. And she 
just watched.
And finally Sylvia's hand stole into his and they 
watched until, at some point, he fell asleep.
Dawn came slowly to Camelot. There was no excitement, 
just another day, one of an endless stream of days. There 
would be a single difference, perhaps. Robor was 
anchored over the main aerospaceport, shadowing it, and 
was being loaded now.
Zack oversaw the loading, although the kids from the 
eastern encampment were actually in charge. It was, as 
were most things dealing with the mainland expedition, a 
joint venture.
Rachael approached him. 'Zack, ' she said, 'Cadmann 
made a rather unusual request. He wants to look at 
Aaron's records. '
Zack's round, sallow face grooved with thought. 'Is he all 
right?'
She evaded. 'He's concerned about the dirigible inci-
dent. '
'He's not making any trivial request, love. What's itching 
him?'
'Well. The entire ectogynic issue. '


406
407
 


'We went over all of that a long time ago. ' 'And we don't 
talk about it much any more. I know. ' Zack walked 
unsteadily over to a tree stump and sat, resting his hands 
on his knees. He drew a large red bandanna from his 
pocket and wiped it across his face with a hand that 
trembled.
'I think that Carlos is taking one of the Minervas up to the 
Geographic today. We want to check the main systems. 
Why don't you invite Cadmann along, and we'll have a 
place to talk. ' She nodded her head.


27 - Geographic
Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee.
William Blake, 'Infant Joy' (1789)


The Minervas were the fusion-powered landing craft 
brought from Sol system. Once on the ground they had 
served as primary power plants until the mines had pro-
duced enough materials for the fabrication of the solar 
collector material known as Begley-cloth. One Minerva 
died in the Grendel Wars. The others were used to visit the 
ship which had brought the children of Earth to their new 
world: Geographic.
Late in the morning, Cadmann skeetered in with Sylvia. 
'Mickey's up at the house with Mary Ann, ' he said quietly.
'How is she doing?' asked Zack.
Cadmann's face was dark. 'Not well. Worse than I 
expected. It is as if something was just taken right out of 
her. Linda's death was a near final thing, and then the 
business with Toshiro - that was a last straw of some kind. 
I can't say that I don't understand it. I just regret it. Regret 
everything. '
Zack nodded.


409
408
 


He helped Sylvia out of the skeeter.
Cadmann went to Carlos. 'Hola. ' Carlos smiled at him 
lazily, stretched a little and nodded his head. 'A good day 
for hiking, eh?'
'A very good one. '
The Minerva was a fifty-metre-long delta-winged 
aerospaceplane. Its dock was the artificial lake northeast 
of the colony, but it could land on any body of water. 
The Minerva's power plants would dissociate lake water 
into hydrogen and oxygen to use as fuel. Together they 
had made almost four hundred round trips to 
Geographic.
That couldn't last. All of the original equipment from 
Earth was ageing fast. One day another Minerva would 
fail. When the last Minerva failed, as it must, the human 
race on Avalon would be grounded until they could build 
an industrial base capable of taking mankind back to the 
stars. Depending on priorities, that might take a hundred 
years. Knowledge alone wasn't enough. Spacecraft require 
specialized equipment.
They strapped themselves into the worn seats. There 
had been fifty but now there were only nine. The others 
had been removed: more cargo space and less weight.
Carlos watched his friend ease into the pilot seat. The 
position was more symbolic than real: Minerva was con-
trolled by a computer. And that's the way it is, Carlos 
thought. We sit at the controls, but we don't run the 
colony any more. I wonder if Cadmann feels that way. 
Probably not. Cadmann was a strange one. He was 
bothered, he was troubled, but as long as there was a 
definite purpose to his life he moved with all of the old 
intention and force. It had grown harder over the years to 
find a purpose to animate him, to give him a sense of 
meaning and potential contribution, but he still felt 
needed.


Or had until the Robor incident. Now there seemed no 
way to console him. The death of one of the children... 
There was no word for the sense of loss. And Carlos, for 
all of the years of knowing Cadmann, couldn't say that 
he understood the workings of his friend's mind.
'Cassandra. System check. '
Cassandra slowed her processes down to give Carlos a 
system-by-system check of all the component parts of the 
Minerva. She stopped in the middle to flash a schematic, 
saying, 'I have identified a burn-through spot in the right 
rear attitude cluster. I would suggest repair during the 
next maintenance cycle. '
'Is it safe for today?'
'Yes. Fractional chance of failure, and two backup sys-
tems. '
'All right. Power-up sequence. Destination, dock with 
Geographic. '
'Two hundred and nine seconds to liftoff, ' Cassandra 
said. Lights flashed on the control board. 'Ground tests 
complete. Engine ignition in one hundred and seventy sec-
onds. ' They waited. Then pumps whined, and they felt the 
steady roar as the engines lit.
'Power-up complete, ' Cassandra announced. 'All sys-
tems go. '
'Take us up. '
'Thirty-five seconds to liftoff, ' Cassandra said.
They waited again, then they felt the first motion. The 
Minerva slid across the water faster and faster, and sud-
denly they were aloft. The nose tilted up until it was 
almost vertical. Clouds broke across the nose; then the sky 
was baby blue, gradually darkening. The roar seemed to 
Carlos to originate inside him, shaking and stirring him, 
giving him a wild and joyous sense of freedom unmatched 
by anything else in his world. He loved it.


410
411
 


His weight eased. A whisper of thrust continued: 
though the oxygen and hydrogen tanks were empty, the 
fusion plant remained. With one he could reach the 
planets. Once you're in orbit you're halfway to any-
where.
He glimpsed Geographic twinkling ahead.
'Docking sequence initiated, ' Cassandra said.
Carlos unlocked his chair and spun it sixty degrees 
around. Cadmann was resting with his eyes closed. 
Sylvia's hand rested softly in his. Zack was engrossed in a 
holo data-management module display, probably some 
inventory list that had to be vetted for the hundredth 
time.
They needed someone like Zack. Thank God it didn't 
have to be Carlos Martinez! That, Carlos decided, would 
have been a genuine waste. But someone needed to put 
tomorrow on an even par with today.
He, Carlos, enjoyed the present far too much.
Geographic was nearly history's largest work of Man (the 
Zuider Zee still held the record) and was certainly and by 
far the largest movable object. Though a mere skeleton of 
its former size and mass, it was still impressive as hell. 
Cadmann could remember the young man he had been, 
flying up from Buenos Aires to Geographic for the first 
time, one of a shuttle group of twelve. The first inspection of 
a genuine interstellar spacecraft was so different from the 
simulator sessions they had all suffered through. It had 
been the culmination of a dream, a grand adventure at the 
end of a lifetime of adventures, something so beautiful, so 
rife with possibility...
It was too big. And it was going to take them too far, 
and take entirely too long to do it - and they had worked to 
be there. If they had had regrets it was much too late to 
voice them by the time they were aboard.


'I was thinking... ' Cadmann said. 'Why did we come 
out here?'
'What are you talking about?'
'You know what I'm talking about. Not what we say to 
the children. Not the myths. Why are we really here?'
Zack glanced up from his figuring. 'What do you 
mean?'
'Why it is that all of us were willing to risk our lives. 
Our histories. Not one of us had enough family or friends 
to hold us to Earth. '
'I brought my wife with me, ' Zack said. 'So did Joe 
Sikes and some others. '
'Think, now. We weren't the smartest and bravest, even 
though that's what we told ourselves. ' The Minerva was 
sailing through a sea of stars, the bright blue haze of 
Avalon below them. 'We were the ones willing to leave it 
all behind. To go. '
'Speak for yourself, ' Sylvia said. 'Terry and I wanted to 
come here. We worked at it. Worked hard. A lot of us did, 
Cadmann - for that matter, so did you. '
They felt a gentle jolt as the padded docking tubes 
engaged, and inflated. Docking with Geographic was like an 
act of slow love, a reunion with an old and dear friend. She 
had seen them through so much and seemed to be 
waiting to discover if they would need her again, ever. The 
air always seemed to change flavour now, at this point. 
Just his imagination, no doubt.
'Top-floor dungeon, ' Carlos said. 'Jewellery depart-
ment, leg irons, neck irons-'
Rachael and Zack were out of the Minerva and swim-
ming down the lines leading to the Geographies main 
lock. A curved door sealed behind them, and they were in a 
womb of steel and ceramic. Another door opened, and 
they were in the main corridor.
The ship smelled faintly musty. Twenty years of near


412
413
 


desolation hadn't changed that, and they had never quite 
got the smell out of the ship. Two hundred people living 
in close proximity for a hundred years will do that -even 
if ninety-five per cent of them are asleep at any given 
time.
They heard a voice from deeper in the ship, and 
Carolyn McAndrews hailed them. She was followed by 
Julia Chang Hortha and Greg Aruda. There was always 
someone aboard because Geographic served as an orbiting 
machine shop for maintenance of the observation satel-
lites, and Cassandra and her maintenance repair robots 
couldn't be prepared for everything. There was never a 
problem finding volunteers to keep watch for a week, and 
for many it was a plum assignment, a chance to get away 
and meditate in near isolation. Carlos had, of course, 
taken advantage of other aspects of Geographic. He had 
taken many tours well stocked with female friends. He 
hadn't quite tired of the null-grav amenities, but he was 
slowing down.
Carolyn swam down the lines effortlessly. Although 
her bulk was growing more and more ponderous, she 
moved with an uncanny grace, here where her weight was 
that of thistledown.
'Good to see you, ' she greeted them. 'It was only just get-
ting lonely up here. Lots of time, and old cubes to sort 
through, but... well. ' A strand of her washed-out brown 
hair floated adrift, got away from her, and she chuckled and 
swept it back into place. 'How are the children?' she asked.
'Fine, ' Carlos said. 'But they overwater your plants. '
She patted him on the chin, and kissed him lightly. 
'Thank you, ' she said. 'Now - you want the computer 
room? Are you going to want privacy?'
Cadmann shook his head. 'No. Get in on this, Carolyn. 
You were as much involved in Aaron's raising as anyone. 
'


'More than most, ' she said. Then she closed her eyes, 
and blushed a little.
'This was Aaron's creche, ' Rachael said. 'We can trace 
down anything, forwards or backwards. Cassandra, give 
us file Childe Aaron One. '
The holostage began to play out a series of images. 
Every image of young Aaron, from infancy onward. They 
were virtually a time-lapse display, carrying him through to 
toddlerhood.
Cadmann watched absently. 'Who were his parents?'
Rachael looked uncomfortable. 'As you know, the 
sperm and egg samples were chosen both from the mem-
bers of the colony and from the frozen contributions of 
those who didn't make the trip for one reason or another. 
There are representative samples from all the basic genetic 
groups and cultures of the world, but all flawless. We 
could be picky. The idea was that some children would be 
raised by the colony as a whole, without any specific 
parental attachments. It was one of the theoretical bases of 
the colony, an experiment in shifting the primary bonding 
imperatives of a child from a pair onto a concept or sys-
tem. As you know, the experiment was begun in earnest 
after the Grendel Wars, and was terminated four years 
later. '
Carolyn McAndrews smiled and said, 'We were making 
enough babies. '
'You always had doubts, ' Zack said. Carolyn nodded. 
'Maybe we should have listened. ' Ice on her mind, he didn't 
have to say. Nobody would have listened to Carolyn -
which was a bit odd, because Carolyn had been one of the 
genuine heroines of the Grendel Wars. No one could quite 
remember when they had stopped listening to her.
Rachael said, 'The project was terminated for other 
reasons. '


415
414
 


Cadmann was looking out into black space. Carlos saw 
only his back. He asked, 'Problems?'
'Stuff that came through from Earth, maybe a year 
after we left. There were files on the Bottle Baby research. 
We didn't get anything else for years. Geographic'^ last 
received signal was a light-speed communique ten years 
after we left. Garbled. It took quite a while to recon-
struct it, ' Rachael said. 'There was research that implied 
that the creche children had a more difficult time bonding. 
They had all been adopted into loving, supportive homes 
where parents had waited years for children, but due to 
fertility problems were forced to utilize artificial wombs.
'Sure, problems, Cad. There're always problems. 
Statistically significant? Maybe. Some kind of academic 
dominance game was going on. Those can get nasty. I 
think some of their theories got sent and some got buried. 
Numbers, too.
'One theory had to do with the endocrinal flux in the 
uterus. The numbers we got suggest that the actual ebb 
and flow of biochemical products as the mother is awake, 
asleep, afraid, hungry, tired, sexually stimulated, what-
ever... is a form of communication between mother and 
child. It's another nutrient... an emotional nutrient, if 
you will, as important as blood or oxygen. '
'I thought that all of those things had been duplicated. '
Rachael shrugged. 'It's still an artform. When you try 
to create a computer program to simulate the messages 
that a mother sends to her child, you have to remember 
that it is a feedback loop between the mother and the foetus. 
Thousands of foetuses were studied, and the ways that 
their mothers responded to them were recorded, and a 
refinement of everything that was learned was created for 
use in the creches. '
'So?'


'So? A camel is a horse designed by committee. There is 
a difference between the clumsy elegance of the 
human body and the sophisticated, intellectual choices 
made by a committee of experts deciding which 
endocrinological experiences are good for the baby. 
They tried to round out the experience. This mood 
swing was inappropriate; that orgasmic response pat-
tern was a biochemical form of child abuse; a mother 
experiencing anger is damaging her child. The liberals 
swung the profile one way, the conservatives another. 
Too many morphemes. Too much adrenaline. Chill 
those kiddies out. '
'Ouch. '
'Hindsight. But the program may have been too bland. 
Didn't place enough of an imprint on the children, leaving 
them a little too vulnerable to their environment. '
'What happened on Earth?'
'Not much. A statistically significant increase in emo-
tional problems among those children. A slight indication of 
an increase in sociopathy. But remember something -each 
and every one of those children was in a loving home, 
one where the parents had waited for years to have a child. 
They had far more love and attention than average. It is 
interesting to speculate what might have happened if 
such children had been placed into average home 
situations. '
Cadmann still didn't turn. 'What about ours?'
'There was nothing about that from Earth - we thought 
that giving them love would counteract any potential 
problems. '
The image of Aaron continued to age. From time to 
time the program would lock on a particular sequence. 
Aaron climbing a mountain. Young Aaron kicking a soccer 
ball. Aaron hiking, moving quickly past a not yet 
injured Edgar Sikes. Aaron visiting Edgar in traction.


416
417
 


Aaron debating. Aaron defeating Edgar in debate. Aaron 
teaching a class in woodcraft to a group of Biters. They 
were surrounded by a universe of Aaron Tragons.
Rachael said, 'It worked - in general. Quite well in 
some cases. '
'For instance?'
Zack leaned forward. 'Children from genetic groups 
conditioned for group raising of children. Little Chaka, 
from New Guinea, for instance. Toshiro Tanaka. But I 
know Rachael has worried about Aaron Tragon, and 
Trish Chance and a few others. '
'Everyone in the colony participated in the nurseries 
back then, ' Rachael said.
'I remember, ' Sylvia said. 'That was a real labour of 
love. '
'When the children were older, they were shared by 
the colony as well. On through their teens. Every one of . 
them had a dozen parents, every colonist had a dozen 
children. This was one of the reasons that the sexual freedom 
in the colony was so fluid. '
'Well, ' Cadmann said, 'we didn't bring any diseases. '
'True, ' Rachael said. 'But the other idea was that all 
pregnancies were desirable. If a particular mother or 
father didn't want to have the child at that time, the foetus 
could be removed and frozen, or carried to term in a host 
uterus or an artificial womb. They could be thawed when 
the mother or father was ready for the responsibility, or 
adopted by a particular set of partners-'
'Or they could be adopted into the general colony. We 
tried that far more often than they were adopted by 
specific parents, ' said Carolyn. 'I did what I could to... ' 
she trailed off.
Rachael sighed and removed her glasses, rubbing her 
temples hard. 'You asked me yesterday to look into 
Aaron. I have. I wish I'd done it sooner, before Ruth got


so involved. I found some things which disturb me. '
Cadmann asked, 'What kind of things?'
On the holostage Aaron had grown older. Aaron with 
virtually every woman of his generation, at one time or 
another. Aaron on the mainland, one of a troop of 
Grendel Scouts led by Carlotta Nolan and Cadmann 
Weyland.
'He has great leadership potential, but... '
'But?'
Rachael said, 'If the combination of ectogynic origin 
and lack of specific bonding and imprinting hit anyone 
hardest, it was Aaron Tragon. I think that he has bonded 
not to the members of the colony but to the dream of col-
onization itself. '
'What's wrong with that?' Sylvia asked.
Aaron's image, larger than life, stared down at them, 
immense, serious, intent.
'I don't mean that he has an idealistic view of what this 
colony should be. I don't mean that he has the kind of 
gung-ho conquer-the-Universe attitude that we had to 
have to get onto Geographic in the first place. I mean lit-
erally that dream itself, the dream of spreading across the 
mainland, the planet. The entire Tau Ceti system. Of 
mankind taking the stars and remaking them to Aaron's 
wishes. That dream is his mother and father, his reason 
for being. That dream was what this was all about, 
remember?'
'I... remember. ' Cadmann was thoughtful. 'But his 
debates... sometimes they seem almost conservative. 
Back to nature? Live-with-the-planet sort of speeches. '
'Well, I don't think he wants to strip-mine the planet. 
He wants to people the planet. Our technology is 
advanced enough to live in harmony with Avalon - there is 
no need to produce more children than Avalon can 
handle. '


418
419
 


'And second?'
'I think that Aaron Tragon stopped showing us his true 
face a long time ago. '
The image of Aaron at twelve appeared, duplicated 
itself along the walls.
Rachael looked from one image to another and sighed. 
'Aaron believes that the original colonists have abandoned 
the dream. Betrayed it. I think he is internally rather than 
externally motivated. I think that he might have little true 
contact with anyone. I think that Aaron's sense of love has 
only to do with goal accomplishment. '
Carolyn smiled, a flash of what she had been like a 
hundred years ago. 'Of course that goes beyond socio-
biology. '
'A little. But none of that makes him dangerous, ' 
Rachael said. 'Or does it? And my daughter is in love 
with him, and pregnant by him, and sometimes I can't 
remember I'm a psychologist. '
Carolyn put her arm around Rachael. They stood 
together and looked at the Aaron images.
Cadmann shook his head. 'What disturbs me is the 
entire dirigible incident. He had us. From the first 
moment to the last. We were set up beautifully. But there 
was something so... so utterly cold-blooded about it 
that... '
'That what?'
'That it makes me wonder who Aaron Tragon really is. 
Who's really alive behind his eyes. '
'You ought to know if anyone does. '
'Me? Why?'
'Because he probably bonded more to you than anyone 
else. It's clear he thinks of you as his father. '
'I-' Cadmann hesitated. 'I was going to say I hadn't 
known that, but I suppose I did. He was always finding 
reasons to go places with us, and it wasn't just that Justin


and Jessica were his friends. But I don't know who's in 
there, Rachael. '
'I've told you most of what there is to know. '
'No, ' Cadmann said. 'Who were his parents?'
Rachael looked uncomfortable. 'All right. It's not as if it 
were actually security-sealed. It was more a general 
colonial agreement. I guess I just feel uncomfortable. It 
was under my own code - that was why you couldn't 
access it. ' She cleared her throat. 'The father was from 
Earth. A Swedish mathematician of Russian extraction 
named Koskov. '
Cadmann seemed to relax, Carlos noticed. As if he had 
expected - and feared - another revelation all together. 
'And the mother?'
Rachael looked at Sylvia. Sylvia coloured, and the psy-
chologist nodded.
'That's right, ' she said. 'Aaron Tragon is your son. It 
was your egg. '
'Justin's half-brother, ' Cadmann said quietly.
'Yes. If there had been any danger of Aaron relating to 
one of his sisters I would have said something. I keep 
track of such things... but it never came up. Jessica isn't his 
biological sister any more than she is Justin's. '
Sylvia was very quiet, still, her mind off in some 
unreachable place. 'Aaron and Justin. '
'What do we do now?' Rachael said.
'I think we go to the mainland. On the next dirigible. '
Sylvia curled onto her side, still floating a couple of 
centimetres off the chair. 'I never held him, ' she said 
quietly. 'I never told him that he was mine, that I would 
watch him and care for him. That he was the most beau-
tiful thing in the world. The most precious child in 
existence. '
'Probably no one did, ' Rachael said. 'We should have 
done that. Aaron, and sixteen others. Belonging to no one


420
421
 


but each other. No wonder they started their cult. They 
had to belong somewhere. '
'Who is living in there?' Cadmann asked.
'I think that we need to find out, ' Carlos said. 'I think 
that we need to find out now. '


28 - Tithe
An honest God is the noblest work of man. Robert Green 
Ingersoll, Gods, Part I (c 1866)


'Home tomorrow, ' Justin said. Aaron nodded, and 
accepted a cup of coffee from him. The valley was swollen 
with mist which rolled across them almost sleepily.
Justin had taken the early-morning shift.
Aaron sipped at the coffee. 'We're going through the 
main valley. We have a couple of choices there, you 
know. '
Justin nodded. 'Here be grendels. They're too far from 
the main camp to do us any great harm. '
'But the herd will come close enough for trouble. '
'I say we take the long way round. ' Justin scratched in 
the dust with his toe. Trees, hills, a stream. 'If we take the 
southern route, we can avoid the problem. '
'We do, on the other hand, have to ford the stream. No 
choice about that. '
Grendels were death in the water. The smartest thing to 
do was to kill everything grendel-sized before the eventu-
ality even arose.
'So, ' said Aaron, 'what do you think?'
'This planet was here before we came, and it will be


423
422
 


here after we're gone. I don't think we can kill everything 
we don't like. There has to be another way, and I want to 
find it. '
'I agree. ' Aaron marked a position upstream from the 
fording spot. 'What say we seed the water with a freshly 
slaughtered steer? Draw the grendels up. We won't get 
them from further down - that's another grendel's territory 
and there is plenty of food. Grendels don't fight unless 
they have to... especially the mainland varieties. '
'What do you mean?'
Aaron was thoughtful. 'We never really studied grendel 
interactions, grendel behaviour, beyond basic hunt and 
attack patterns. But doesn't it seem that these grendels 
can actually think? Plan? Observe? They're intelligent -
much more than the First told us. They were here long 
before we were. I think that one day we may be able to 
communicate with them... ' he stopped, and laughed. 'Just 
dreaming, I guess. Let's get on with the day, huh?'
What was it with Aaron and grendels? It gave Justin 
goosebumps. Aaron was sheer death in the grendel-shooting 
games, as if the cartoon grendels saw Aaron and just fell 
over.
Old Grendel slept.
The prey that lived in the lake would feed her until the 
end of things. She had eaten well the previous day, and in 
these times of long sleeps and quiet days, a single major 
feeding could last her ten to fifteen days before hunger 
grew unendurable.
She occasionally roused from dream, disturbed by the 
daughters of God flying overhead. Their hum was the 
sound of the Death Wind. It frightened her down to her 
core, made her hunker down into the water and watch, 
just watch.


Change was in the air. The light was hallucinatory; 
everything felt evanescent, transitory, tissue-thin. She 
sniffed the thousand scents of lesser lifeforms preparing 
themselves for the end of everything. Some began a mad-
ness of breeding; some avoided breeding entirely; some 
changed colour or shape, or migrated, or entered a sleep 
from which even a grendel could not rouse them.
You couldn't think, couldn't plan for the end of every-
thing. But, drowsily, Old Grendel was trying... when the 
smell of blood snapped her fully awake.
Three times within the past several days she had fol-
lowed such a scent. Each time she'd found a dead 
puzzle-beast floating in still water. After she had allowed it 
to ripen for a day or two it tasted just fine. Last time, 
when she returned to her favourite resting spot, she 
noticed that large numbers of animals had passed her way: 
many puzzle-beasts, a few of the two-legged weirds.
The weirds flew through the air in humming flyers, the 
daughters of God. They walked; or, riding strange shells 
that smelled of tar and lightning they ran almost as fast as a 
sister on speed. They combined too many different 
smells in one. They didn't eat their own young. She knew 
this because she had come close enough to their nests to 
watch them.
She had tested their defences. They knew where she 
was before she could smell them. If she came close enough to 
make out distinct aspects of their behaviour, they 
became alarmed. Twice they sent flying things in pursuit. 
But when she retreated they did not attempt to engage.
She found their rules of combat not entirely dissimilar 
to her own. They could move fast. They were hunters. 
They hoarded their young.
Could they be a kind of grendel? There were builder 
grendels, and the great flat unmoving grendels of the 
north, and the snow grendels she'd had to fight twice in


424
425
 


her life, and now the kind that laid her swimmers in a 
stranger's pond...
In her youth, Old Grendel had wandered far during the 
rainy seasons. Wanderlust and curiosity were somehow 
linked to the days when her head had nearly burst. When 
the pain faded it left behind a new clarity. She began to 
see ways that the world fit together. She developed a 
hunger of a different kind, that pulled her toward the 
blurry edges of the pattern that was the world.
She followed the water.
When she found water already stocked with one of her 
own kind, she fought. But if the taste in the water was 
alien... Two dissimilar grendels could share the same 
water. They snarled and snapped at each other, but man-
aged somehow to keep the terrible speed under control. 
They could tolerate each other's presence, if each knew 
that to begin was to end.
The weirds, now. Were they some new kind of grendel?
The smell of blood from upstream was strong; but Old 
Grendel moved downstream by a little, away from the 
blood. She coated herself with mud and burrowed deep. 
She extended her snorkel to breathe. And she waited, and 
watched.
Chaka brought Skeeter II low in over the river thirty kilo-
metres south of Shangri-La. There was a grendel there, but 
no point in killing it. An empty ecological niche would 
merely attract a younger, faster monster. So he let sleeping 
grendels lie, and thus far the arrangement had been a good 
one.
Three times before they had lured the grendel upstream 
with a slaughtered carcase. They had watched via camera. 
The first time she had dragged the meat back to her lair. 
Unsatisfactory. So they'd chained the meat to the ground.


The grendel had to devour it there, and she did, after 
examining the area.
And the third time they had taken their herd across in 
safety, because the grendel was busy eating. They had, in a 
matter of speaking, tithed to the grendel god. Aaron 
had insisted on it, and Chaka liked it as well.
Today Chaka swept the river with his glasses, and saw 
nothing.
'This is Skeeter II. We have no contact at all. '
'None?'	. '
'Nothing grendel-sized is moving. No heat source. I 
don't like it. '
'And the river is running with blood, isn't it?'
'The ox was alive when we chained it in the river. We 
numbed it, sliced it and let it bleed to death. I'm telling 
you, it should have done the job. '
'Wait ten minutes, ' Aaron said.
Chaka wheeled around. This was a good life. It held 
beauty and endless discovery and growth. But it required 
vigilance. His life had always required vigilance. Since the 
first time that he had become aware of the difference 
between himself and the other children, he had been vigilant.
Since the first time that he had formed the union with 
Aaron and Trish and the others, he had been vigilant. The 
price of freedom is eternal vigilance. Who said that? His 
father?
He pulled his mind back to the task at hand.
Chaka had been adopted, mentored by Big Chaka. Big 
Chaka was from America. Little Chaka's seed had come 
from New Guinea. Still, there was a connection, and it 
wasn't the odd African name. Chaka smiled to think of it, 
and looked forward to the visit from the mainland, for the 
sloping shadow of the big dirigible, and the cargo and 
people she would bring.
He checked all of his meters. 'Cassandra?'


427
426
 


'Negative, Chaka, ' she said.
Damn. There was just nothing warm and willing to 
move down there. At least - nothing that could be lured 
by blood. He had long thought that grendels were more 
intelligent than anyone gave them credit for.
'All right, ' he said finally. 'Let's dump speed. '
One of the other skeeters dropped speed pellets into the 
water. They dissolved almost instantly. The water seethed 
with scent.
'Let's see, ' Chaka said.
Old Grendel was in agony. The smells of blood and speed 
were overwhelming. She wanted to meet these strange 
creatures on their own ground, to learn. There was so 
much that was new about them.
But she couldn't do that. Her whole self wanted to 
attack. If she came near them, she would tear them to 
pieces, or they would kill her. She would learn nothing. 
All she could do was fight against her own deepest 
instincts, feel the speed boiling within her, and lie buried 
in the mud and the silt and wait.
And dream.
She remembered a time when she had had no dreams.
She remembered when the world had become so 
strange. When the colours and shapes and smells became 
patterns. Agony came with the Change. She had suffered 
for a full cycle of seasons, and there were times when she 
was so sick and crazed that she completely forgot what it 
had ever been to feel well and whole. And then... and then 
her head felt heavy. Swollen. On the far side of agony came 
an awareness, a newness.
That was when she began to remember things. To think 
of the images that came at night, and wonder where they 
stopped and the world of food and fear began.


That was when she found she could tell the speed to 
stop, to go away. When she began to master the hidden 
essence of herself. That was the beginning of everything.
She knew that something had happened. And she knew 
that she wanted to pass this something on, a gift for her 
own young.
Perhaps once a year, she would chase down one of her 
own swimmers. Quite a chase it would be, too. How was a 
swimmer to know that the ballistic shape swooping 
through the water didn't mean to eat it? Every similar 
memory ended in water clouded with gore. But once a 
year the jaws could close more gently.
A swimmer could survive out of the water for almost 
an hour, and she moved carefully through the dusk, 
briskly, but never hitting speed. If the swimmer's skin 
grew too dry, she would vomit a little water over it to 
keep it comfortable, and continue.
The water tasted different to her here. When she came 
here, it felt better. And when she brought some of her 
young, when she made certain that they lingered in this 
watery place, it felt best of all.
And some of those swimmers that she brought to this 
place felt the same strange call.
One had died. Her head swelled, as with her sisters 
before her, but the pain never dwindled and her thin 
scream stopped only with death. She was too old, Old 
Grendel decided. The bones in her head had gone rigid, 
and expansion below the skull had split it. Old Grendel 
didn't make that mistake again.
The ones who had not been to the headwater smelled 
different. They were stupid. They would challenge her for 
territory when they were not a third her size, when they 
hadn't even fully grown into speed. She tore them to 
pieces without a second thought.
The favoured ones: she watched them grow, and


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presently chased them down the river. Most she never 
saw again.
But sometimes... when the weather was dry and the 
water levels dropped, when there weren't any ponds or 
marshes to support them, some of them came back to 
challenge her.
She remembered killing some - but allowing others to 
flee back downriver. She didn't know what happened to 
them, didn't really think about it in the way that a human 
being might understand memories, but she felt a distaste 
for killing them. Ordinarily, in killing there was pleasure.
The water was buzzing against her skin, pounding in her 
ears. Old Grendel came back to herself in a flash of terror. 
Then she recognized the vibration of approaching hooves.
The water was running clean, the taste of speed was 
fading. She sensed that first. Then she retracted her 
snorkel, and slowed her fire so that her oxygen would last 
longer.
The hoofbeats were upriver from her. She could hear 
everything. The smell reached her a few moments later. 
Puzzle-beasts, the ones who could change their look and 
scent. A herd of them! She loved the taste of their meat, 
and the joy of solving the puzzle they posed; for the world 
was a pattern, and puzzle-beasts could hide within it.
Again, her juices began to flow. It was almost too good 
to believe, too good to allow to pass.
But she could smell more than a score of weirds. 
Weirds were dangerous. She could hear it coming, rumble 
- roar - splash, and she smelled a stink of lightning and 
heat and volcanic chemicals: one of the dead things, the 
shells that the weirds grew so that they could run on speed.
The herd pounded through the river until the thunder of 
hooves diminished. Then Old Grendel slowly, cautiously


raised her head from the water, and looked. They were 
moving away, to the east, toward the larger encampment. 
She could get closer, and would. The sun was past its 
zenith. The day was cooling. She could make it to another 
spring, one which she had discovered on a foray in the 
rain. It was a long way from her native grounds.


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29 - Children of the Dream
Moribus antiquis res stat Romana virisque (The 
Roman state stands by ancient customs, and its 
manhood)
Ennius, Annales (c 239-169 BC)
Two rows of electrified fences greeted them as they drove 
the herd toward Shangri-La.
A sheer granite expanse of mountains rose behind the 
base camp to the north, solid and impassive. Handholds 
and supply caverns had been cut into it. These could also 
serve as shelters in an emergency. There was no deep run-
ning water to the north for nearly two hundred 
kilometres. The closest deep water to the camp was the 
river twenty kilometres east - well beyond ordinary grendel 
range, except in rainy seasons. In winter and rain they 
would have to take special precautions.
The sights and smells of a healthy, active camp assailed 
them as they rode up, singing and enjoying themselves.
Justin waited for the first fence to shut down and the 
warning lights atop it to blink off. Two attendants swung 
the gate open and welcomed them in.
'How was the trip?'
'Except for Stu, ' he said soberly, 'it was great. '
Long faces, nods of understanding.
A drawbridge spanned the horseshoe trench between


the two fences. There was no way in or out save across the 
double pits, by skeeter, or up the mountainside. Every 
corner of Shangri-La was protected by automatic sensors 
with links directly to Cassandra.
A single electrified fence surrounded the fifteen hectares 
of experimental farmland beyond the main encampment. 
The electric fence was lightly charged at all times, but the 
computers could switch to higher voltages in an eyeblink. 
Watchdogs roamed freely, their collars keyed to the 
fence's frequency. Irritation increased in direct ratio to 
their nearness to the fence. After the first week, the collars 
had been turned down. No dog had been hurt.
The growl of tractors and the laughter of children 
greeted them.
Justin moved to the far side of the drawbridge and let 
the chamels through. The herd hardly protested any more, 
as if the snow grendel attack had broken their spirit - or 
proved the good intentions of their new masters.
The sounds of happy laughter were evidence of the one 
thing that had caused the greatest debate between the gen-
erations. The children.
Clearly, the Star Born had the right to bring their own 
children with them. Although there had been debate, there 
were no solid grounds to deny it.
So the age of consent was set at sixteen years. There 
were a few Star Born between the ages of ten and sixteen 
who had been allowed to accompany older brothers and 
sisters. This was for individual families to decide.
The outer gate swung closed, and the spotting skeeters 
buzzed over the main pads.
Four skeeters had gone out on the run, two weeks ago.
Three had returned. Justin shook his head. Snow, 
dammit. He hadn't thought about that, and Stu was dead, 
and Katya came that close. But... they had taken out five 
grendels for a single casualty.


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few more decorations. The most important thing is the 
new buildings. '
'Most important thing is that all of the quotas are met. 
The dirigible is coming in day after tomorrow, and we 
want to be certain that we're ready. '
'What's the tally?'
'Nine tonnes of refined ore - Deadwood is running 
fine. Zack should be happy. '
She noticed that the conversation had died down. 
Everyone understood the question behind the question.
Edgar Sikes said, 'Nobody has the remotest idea what 
happened in Deadwood Pass. We've analysed it from 
every angle. Whatever killed Linda and Joe has just gone. 
We haven't a clue. We shipped in a grendel-proof shelter 
and sealed it and installed air tanks. It should stop any-
thing. '
'Best bet?'
'Eh? Some sort of gas cloud, ' Edgar said. 'Volcanic ori-
gin, something that acted like an acid. '
'But wasn't an acid?'
'Certainly didn't leave acidic traces. But that's the way it 
acted, and that's what we have to assume. '
He dipped his finger in water and drew on the table. 
'Look here. The best guess we have is that the wind 
blowing up over the mountains carried a pocket of caustic 
gas with it. It hit them before they had any chance at all. '
'And Cadzie?'
He bared his teeth. 'Don't know. Favourite idea is that 
Linda sealed the baby in the blanket. The acid cloud 
passed before it could leak in. But Aaron's sure it was 
something alive, something that veers away from Cadzie 
Blue. '
'Sealed it airtight? Against something that ate the flesh 
from their bones and left no trace? You believe this?'


'... No, ' he said. His plump, babyish face was tight 
with frustration. 'But I don't believe in an invisible monster 
either!'
'Monsters from the id, ' someone sang.
'Oh, shut up. Anyway, we've combed the area. Dirt, 
rock and soil samples. We found nothing out of the ordi-
nary. The usual decomposed leaves, crushed rock, animal 
droppings and general crud that makes dirt anywhere. '
'Animal droppings?' Chaka asked, his interest roused. 
'What kind of animal?'
'We don't know, ' he said. 'Not turds, more like a fine 
dry mist of concentrated shit sprayed over everything. 
Aaron was sure it was something alive. You hear about 
that?'
'Yeah. '
The Scribe has a blue lip. There are other Avalon 
plants and animals that use blue to signal poison. I found 
four in Cadmann's garden at the Stronghold! We looked 
hard at that slice of skin Aaron cut, and it really is poiso-
nous. But Cadzie Blue is a darker colour. '
Chaka brooded. 'Dammit, Edgar, it's such a neat 
notion. ' He suddenly grinned. 'And Aaron is so massively 
embarrassed. '
Like wind passing over a wheat field, heads turned 
toward Aaron... who was apparently half-asleep.
Edgar said, 'We have a piece of the lip itself. We have 
views through several sets of war specs. We have Justin's 
flash photographs. Cadzie Blue is darker. ''
'Why don't you let me take a look at that stuff you col-
lected?'
'Well... all right, Chaka. Right after dinner?'
Chaka smeared a trace of the dropping sample on an 
analyser sheet and ran it into the kiln. 'What are you 
looking for?' Justin asked.


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'I don't know. But dad considers it to be the largest 
threat to the colony. '
Aaron nodded. Somewhat to Justin's surprise, Aaron 
had wanted to come over, had cut his participation in the 
revelry short.
Columns of numbers danced in the air as the computer 
began its analysis.
Aaron ran his finger through the air next to the col-
umn. 'Phosphorus, carbon. Lots of nitrogen. '
Justin asked, 'As much as you would expect from a 
carnivore?'
'Sure. Unrea-'
'And this stuff, it's what a mammal would turn urea 
into. Unless it's a hominid, ' Chaka said. 'This matches 
what we know of Avalon biology. '
'Not grendel, though?'
'No, not grendel. Far less water, for one thing. ' Chaka 
muttered under his breath to Cassandra, and the images of 
the droppings expanded. 'It's like dust. And... there's 
more than one kind here. Lots of animal life up there, 
nothing very large. '
'Could be barking up the wrong tree. '
'Wrong damn' forest. I can't tell anything until we 
match the droppings with the animal samples that we 
have currently, and keep going after that. We might be 
able to determine a phylum. I doubt if we can get closer 
than that. '
'Hell of a riddle, ' Aaron said. He looked troubled. 'I 
know what I want to do. I want to take a look on the west 
side of that mountain ridge. There's something over there. 
Volcanic? Organic? Don't know. But something on that 
mountain somewhere killed two people, and I want to 
find out what it was. '
'What about Stu's funeral?' Justin asked.
Aaron nodded. 'Tomorrow morning. But before


Robor arrives. Stu was Star Born, and we'll mourn him 
privately. '
All eighty-five of Shangri-La's Star Born were crowded 
into the main recreation hall. The eighty-sixth was buried 
out on the Scribeveldt, his grave marked by a pile of stone 
as tall as a man, and recorded to the centimetre in 
Cassandra's files.
Katya walked sombrely to the southeast corner of the 
rec room, and placed a thirty-centimetre-tall wooden 
plaque against the wall. With eight clean hammer-strokes 
she nailed it to the wall. On it were two lines of etched let-
ters. The first read: Stu Ellington. Beneath it, Greater Love 
Hath No Man.
There was another plaque on that wall. Toshiro 
Tanaka. Rest well, Sensei.
She returned to the front of the hall and stood beside 
Justin.
Aaron Tragon stood before them. He wore a dark shirt 
and pants. His flaxen hair lay down around his shoul-
ders. He gazed out at their assembled faces, and began to 
speak.
'Most of those who have fulfilled this duty before me, ' 
he said, his voice swelling to fill the room, 'have com-
mended the institution of the eulogy. It is good, they have 
said, that solemn words should be spoken over our fallen 
friends. I disagree. Acts deserve acts, not words. '
Someone behind Katya said: 'Amen to that. '
'- but I can offer no act to equal that of Stuart 
Ellington. So it is with apologies to our fallen friend that I 
offer only words. We cannot understand Stu's sacrifice 
merely by considering the life he saved, or the life he lost in 
so saving. We must look to the sacrifices made to conquer 
Avalon, the world which we have inherited, with all of its 
terrors and treasures. '


439
438
 


'Twenty years ago there came from Earth a group of 
men and women who dreamed of humanity's destiny 
among the stars. These courageous folk were willing to 
invest, their lives in that dream. And all of us here 
descended from that dream. '
There were quiet nods of agreement.
'Most of you were born into the world through the 
bodies of your mothers, children of love.
'But others of us - like me, like Chaka and Trish, like 
Stu - were children of the dream itself, brought into the 
world by mind and force of will. Mind and heart together 
have inherited this world...
'Stu enjoyed his garden and his mathematics and his 
flying. God, how he loved his flying. The true wealth of 
Avalon is found in the fact that pleasure motivates us -
not the pain of lesser cultures. We don't have discipline on 
Avalon - we have hunger. Hunger to grow, to learn, to 
share. We are lovers of beauty, of wisdom, of knowledge. 
We differ from the states which preceded us in regarding 
the man who holds aloof from public life not as "quiet" 
but as useless. Together in debate and action we have cre-
ated every aspect of this world and of that, we may be 
proud.
'For we are at once the most adventurous and the most 
thoughtful human beings who have ever lived. But there is a 
price for the wealth, the opportunity, the beauty which fill 
our lives. Stu paid that price. More of us will pay it. We 
may pray to be spared his bitter hour, but remember his 
sacrifice and hope that, if your moment of duty comes, you 
may discharge it as nobly.
'It is because of this nobility that I do not mourn. For I 
know that we have been born into a world of manifold 
chances, and that he is to be accounted happy to whom 
either the best life or the best death falls. The two are 
joined inexorably as one.


'There is only a plaque to celebrate Stu here. His body 
belongs to the soil, to the cycle of life. This whole planet is 
the sepulchre of a brave man, and Stu's story is not merely 
graven on this plaque but lives on in our hearts as we think 
of him, and strive to follow his example. As we try to lead 
a life, or die a death, one half so noble as his. '
Aaron closed his eyes and placed both hands, folded 
together, above his heart. 'Goodbye, Stu, ' he said quietly.


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441
 


30 - Family Ties
Sun-girt city, thou hast been Ocean's 
child, and then his queen; Now is 
come a darker day, And thou soon 
must be his prey.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, 'Lines Written amongst 
the Euganean Hills' (1818)
There were those who felt that the intent of Shangri-La 
was as stated in their formal manifesto: to explore and 
conquer the mainland. To others, the major intent was to 
create a world separate from their parents. To a few, the 
major intent was to party.
By agreement, anyone who didn't do his share or who 
compromised camp security, could be sent back to 
Camelot. Surf's Up was a more forgiving environment. 
There had been two such expulsions, both times at 
Aaron's insistence. There were no slackers at Shangri-La.
But children want the respect of their parents.
Despite everything that had been said and done and all 
of the accusations and protestations of independence, it 
was noticeable that the streets were a little cleaner, that 
things moved with a little more sparkle and polish when 
the dirigible was due to come over from the island.
Much of the work stopped at least an hour before 
Robor's imposing shadow fell across the land. The landing 
pad, surrounded by an electrified fence and another


trench, was cleared. The landing crews stood by. 
Everything and everyone was in place.
Aaron, Justin, Jessica, Chaka - the entire Board of the 
Star Born was there to meet Robor. Today there were 
special visitors inside.
The skeeters purred gently as they urged it toward its 
destination. Sudden music blared out: the Shangri-La 
Symphony Orchestra was now the town band, as 
Cassandra played a march composed by Derik and Gloria 
with theme suggestions from Jessica. The tune went from 
oompah to swing with odd transformations as the diri-
gible glided into the restraining web. The ground-crew 
volunteers hauled the mooring lines taut and cleated them 
down.
'Clear and secure!' Heather McKinnie called. The pilot 
acknowledged and let down the landing ramp.
Cadmann Weyland was the first out. He waved to 
Justin and Jessica as he strode down the gangplank. Sylvia 
followed, then the stooped figure of Big Chaka.
Cadmann and Jessica regarded each other. Justin 
watched carefully. This was the first time they had seen 
each other in eight weeks. The longest they had ever been 
separated. Their relationship had suffered a terrible blow: 
who knew what might happen?
Sylvia went to Justin, and embraced him. He wanted to 
lose himself in his mother's arms. He'd forgotten how 
much he missed her, how very good it felt to allow himself 
to be enfolded. She looked a little tired, a little more worn, 
but still wonderful.
But he kept a bit of peripheral vision on Jessica and her 
father, and he wasn't disappointed.
Jessica took a step forward and held out her hand. 
Cadmann took it. He held it, and they looked at each 
other.
Justin could see Aaron's face over Sylvia's shoulder. As


442
443
 


Chaka and Justin and "Jessica embraced their parents, 
Aaron Tragon beamed like a proud schoolmaster... well, 
not quite.
'How is mother?' Jessica asked finally.
'She's fine. Your brother Mickey is watching her. She 
wanted me to come over to check on you. '
'I can believe that. ' Her eyes shone.
There was still so much in his face. She had looked up 
and into those eyes so many times, over so many years, 
and she had watched the face slowly age like good leather. 
He was still the man that she knew, and she couldn't quite 
bring herself to say the things that she needed to say.
'Come on, ' she said. She took his hand and led him 
away from the others. Aaron tried to stay in step with 
them at first, but she locked eyes with him. This is about 
me and my father. There really wasn't a place for Aaron 
here. He nodded, and turned to something else.
Big Chaka embraced his son. 'I saw the grendel brain 
scans, ' Jessica overheard. 'A month ago Tonya got bitten by a 
leech-like parasite, didn't she? While swimming upriver?'
Jessica led Cadmann through the streets. They sang 
with the smell of iron and singed plastic. There were a 
thousand different projects under way at the same 
moment. Everywhere, Star Born laboured efficiently at a 
hundred vital tasks.
Carey Lou Davidson ran past lugging a bucket of plastic 
nails. He called, 'Hi, Cadmann!' and disappeared into a 
half-erected wood-frame.
Cadmann waved back. 'You've done well, ' he said.
'You must have been able to see most of this through 
Cassandra. '
'Yes. That was nice, the virtual tour through the streets. 
But it's never quite real for me until I can feel the wind on 
my skin and smell the trees. '


They walked all the way through the town, back to the 
stone stairs cut into the mountainside. She took the stairs 
two at a time until they were above the rooftops, until 
they could see everything in the colony at one sweeping 
glance.
She sat him down and took his arm, leaning her head 
against his shoulder.
'I wanted you to see this, ' she said. 'I wanted you to 
really know that it wasn't just a pipe dream. '
'I knew that it wasn't going to be that... ' he said, and 
his voice trailed off. He was looking out over the main-
land shantytown. From here the individual human voices 
were as soft as wind-chimes and the sounds of industry 
dwindled to a burr. There was something of newness in 
the air, and it was easy to imagine that it was the begin-
ning of a new world. Of course, in some ways it was. He 
could see more than the camp from here. From this alti-
tude he was looking out over a river plain, seeing the 
stretch of mountains gently wreathed in fog. There was a 
mystic quality to the scene. The land was waiting. The 
land was alive. Beyond the mists lay adventure, and 
romance.
The clouds on the horizon were a light haze shading 
slowly from blue to white to blue again in the sky above. 
Tau Ceti burned a yellow-orange hole through the haze.
Cadmann inhaled deeply. Jessica watched as something 
within him tensed and then relaxed, but she didn't inter-
rupt him.
What are you thinking, father? She reached out to 
touch his arm and felt him take her hand. There was a 
rough quality to his skin, a masculine smell to him, which 
was of infinite comfort. His face, so weathered by the ele-
ments here, so grooved by care and loss, seemed more 
angular to her. He didn't seem old to her now, as he often 
did. He seemed... historical. She almost laughed.


445
444
 


The silence stretched on, long and unnatural. Then 
Colonel Cadmann Weyland said to her, at last, 'You may 
have done the right thing, but that can't make up for how it 
was done. Nothing can. '
'Toshiro?'
'More than that. '
'What could be - more than that?'
'We trusted you, then. When we found we couldn't, 
everything changed. Toshiro died because we no longer 
knew what we could expect from you. From any of you. 
From him. '
'But he wouldn't - oh. ' She leaned her head against his 
shoulder.
'I'd have said that about you, ' the Colonel said. 'And 
did. Toshiro wouldn't kill Carlos. Jessica wouldn't -
Jessica, I can stand being made to look a fool. Anyone 
who has to make decisions knows that will happen some 
day. But - you came into our home and took advantage of 
your status there. That can't happen again. '
Her throat tightened.
'But there's another thing that you need to hear, ' he 
said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. 'I'm still your 
father, and I love you. '
'Really?' she hated the sound of her own voice, the 
little-girl quality, the needing-daddy's-approval quality. 
There was something there that she hadn't heard in her 
own voice for years, and she wasn't certain if she hadn't 
missed it.
'Really, ' he said. Til visit you here on the mainland. 
Both of your mothers will come over. But you're no longer 
welcome at the Bluff. Not now. Perhaps later, after we see 
what you do with your responsibilities here. Love you get 
just because you're my daughter. Trust has to be earned. '
She reached up and kissed his cheek. Started to speak, 
and he said: 'Shh. '


She nodded, and looked.
'Is everything all right here?' he asked. 'Is there any-
thing wrong?'
'What you see is what you get around here, dad, ' she 
said.
He nodded again, and she wondered what it was that 
he had almost said, almost commented upon.
'Some of the First will never accept you, ' he said. 'Will 
never be able to accept that you have a right to live the 
lives you want. To accept you as equal partners in this 
entire venture. '
'What are they saying?' she asked.
'They suggested that you need to create your own 
society because you can't get along. That you have an 
adolescent need to break free, regardless of consequences. 
It's not just the First who say it, you know. There are 
plenty at Surf's Up - what's left of Surf's Up - who'll say it 
too. '
A pterodon flew past, close enough that a well thrown 
rock would have clipped a wing. Cadmann watched it for a 
long time.
'The nest, ' Jessica said.
He nodded.
'But that was long ago. '
A smile.
'Dad, I'd say the same thing old Hendrick did. I'd tell a 
child, "Don't touch the eggs. We don't know what the 
pterodons will do, but you won't like it. "'
He nodded again and looked away from the pterodon 
to stare down across the dry rock areas to where the river 
lay, beyond grendel range. It wound off out of sight, an 
old river running through a long-silted valley, a snake-like, 
misty ribbon.
'The wells are over there, ' Jessica said. 'No connection 
with running water. '


446
447
 


He nodded. 'You've chosen a good site. I'd say Shangri-
La is safe. Unless-'
'Yes?'
He shook his head. 'In the military we called it, "taking 
counsel from your fears". You can get so concerned about 
what might happen that you can't do anything. '
'What's bothering you?'
'Suppose a grendel could control itself. Not go on speed 
until it got up here. I think one could make it. '
'They don't though, ' Jessica said. 'They didn't back at 
the Grendel Scout camp, and that was a much better place 
for one to do that. '
'I expect you're right. '
'But we thought of that, too, ' she said. 'We have 
motion and IR detectors out there. ' She took a deep 
breath. 'You said - we did it the wrong way, but it was the 
right thing. Did you mean that?'
He laughed. 'I think that it's too damned easy to forget 
why we came. Lots of reasons, but all of us had a dream. 
We believed we could make a future. '
'Dad-'
'Yeah, I know. You do, too. And the ones we left 
behind thought we were crazy, just like some think that 
about you. Jess, what's done is done. You're here, you've 
got a dream. You have to follow it, just as we did. '
'I don't think I ever heard you talk this way before. '
'Sure you did, you just weren't ready to listen yet. ' He 
looked out at the distant, mist-shrouded peaks, and 
stretched elaborately.
'Want to climb them?' she said.
'Reading my mind without permission again? We left a 
lot behind, you know. Not like you, here. We really left. 
We'd never go home, and there wasn't much chance anyone 
we'd ever known would join us. '
'And no one has-'


'And no one has, ' Cadmann said. 'And we wish we 
knew why, but we don't. Jess, some of the goodbyes we 
had to say were pretty bitter, you know. But they were 
goodbyes. Once Geographic boosted out, we were all 
there was and all there would be. We had to trust each 
other. Really trust, with our lives, later with our families. 
That trust was broken, once-'
'I know. Zack thought you might have killed your 
friend-'
'Not just Zack. Everyone. ' He paused to stare into the 
distance, and she knew that he was once again strapped to a 
table, drugged and helpless as the grendel toyed with him. 
It had happened many times before, but now Jessica felt as 
if he were someone she didn't know at all. He was angry, 
hurt, disappointed... and yet somehow, under and aside all 
of that, there was still profound hope, and a level of trust 
that she wasn't certain she deserved. It hurt to look at him, 
and she opted to change the subject. 'Are you ever sorry that 
you came?'
He shook his head slowly. 'Not me. There weren't any 
wars. I have no political savvy. I wasn't going anywhere in 
the UN military bureaucracy. '
'And what about your marriage?' she asked carefully.
Her father looked at her, smiled sadly, and lowered his 
eyes. 'Sienna made her choice, ' he said. 'I was the first to 
cheat. I was married to my job. It took me everywhere. I 
was never faithful to her. She knew it. I knew it. I thought 
that somehow... somehow we'd survive. '
'Did you love her?'
'Very much. '
'As much as you love mom?'
For a moment she wasn't certain that he would answer, 
then he said: 'Yes. '
'As much as you love Sylvia?'
He looked at her sharply, and she didn't look away. He


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smiled, and the smile wavered and was gone. 'No, ' he 
said. She nodded. He put his arm around her. 'And not as 
much as I love you, either. '
She leaned her head against him. Her voice dropped to a 
whisper. 'Did I do wrong, daddy?' Knowing that, for her, 
the Stronghold was now on another planet.
'We all do, sometimes, ' he said. 'But very few of us 
have the chance to do something great, to make up for it. 
You kids have that chance. I expect to watch you soar. ' 
She nodded silently. And, together, they watched Tau Ceti 
dip toward the mountains, and darkness fall across the 
land.


31 - Firecrackers
Nature is but a name for an effect Whose cause is God.
William Cowper, The Task (1785)


Old Grendel waited, and saw God return to the flat above 
the river. She wanted a closer look but there were too 
many of the weirds, and they were alert. They had strung 
metal lace for barriers. She had seen animals touch those 
fences and recoil as if bitten or burned. She didn't under-
stand such things, but was prepared to learn quickly.
She might be able to approach them from the rear. 
And, dimly, she remembered a path.
She wriggled backwards, retreating from her position. 
Careful. There wasn't enough water to cool her if her 
body went on speed. She had territory to cover.


Cadmann woke before dawn. The rooms in the visitors' 
quarters were plain and bare - cots, sleeping bags and 
night stand, bath facilities down the hall. When he came 
back from the toilet he wasn't sleepy. His backpack stood 
against one wall and for a moment he thought of getting 
out his mini-stove to make coffee, but decided against it. 
The stove's roar would wake Sylvia.
He dressed quietly and went to the mess hall to find 
coffee. The main room had an eastern view and he left the 
lights low, scanning the horizon for the first sign of sunrise.
'Hello. '
Cadmann turned to greet Big Chaka. 'You have trouble 
sleeping too?'
'No, but I went to bed early, ' Chaka said
'We all did. I've found coffee makings. Want some?'
'Please. '
'Like old times. We don't go camping much now. '
'Not since the children grew up, ' Chaka agreed.
An indifferent breeze blew down from the mountains


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behind them. Not warming, not cooling, just enough to 
ruffle the grass of the main compound, a slight tousling of 
the grass in the glare of the safety floodlamps. There was a 
hint of light in the eastern sky. Cadmann and Chaka sat by 
the big window and waited for Tau Ceti to rise. There had 
been many times like this over the years, times to sit and 
think, to watch, to ruminate. Finally the first hint of light 
was a golden blush above the mountains. Big Chaka sighed 
with pleasure.
'So, ' Cadmann said finally. 'What do you think?'
'The children have done well, ' he said. 'They have built a 
real community here. '
'Yes. I'm impressed. '
'And none too soon, I think. Avalon hasn't even begun 
to share her secrets. ' Chaka's voice was utterly content.
'This is what you came for, isn't it?'
'If you're an exobiologist, you go where the exobiology 
is, ' he said reasonably. 'You know, we're probably the 
most interesting lifeform on this planet. '
'How so?'
'We should really study ourselves. Every single one of 
us came here because we had nothing - or not enough to 
hold us on Earth. I find that fairly telling, don't you?'
'You lost your family, didn't you?' Cadmann asked 
quietly.
'Yes. ' Chaka's toe drew a lazy circle on the wooden 
floor beneath him. 'It was my fault. Food poisoning, in the 
middle Amazon. My family and I were there for the year 
conducting piranha research. There was a village celebra-
tion. They used some canned food they got from a trader. '
His face tightened, but his voice was still steady. 'Half 
the village died before we could get medical help. My wife 
and my daughter were among them. '
'A good reason to get away. '
Chaka took another deep sip. 'I think that we had all


just about used Earth up. I think that we all told our-
selves different stories about it, but there were reasons. 
You were put out to pasture. Carlos is the remittance man of 
all time. '
Cadmann grinned. 'Isn't that the truth?' He was quiet 
for a moment. 'How did you come to adopt Little Chaka?'
'You didn't know?'
'I never asked. One day we just noticed that he wasn't 
rotating out of your house. '
'An accident, really, ' Chaka said. 'We just gravitated 
toward each other. You know... it's odd, but Little Chaka 
might have been better suited to ectogynic birth than any 
of the other children. '
'How so?'
'Well, he was New Guinea stock. I know that... I 
peeked. But he's huge at least partially because his parents 
received such fine nutrition. His father had a literary 
scholarship to Harvard. One of the cultural outreach pro-
grams. His mother was from Papua - a first-generation 
immigrant - and a national-calibre runner. Sprinted her 
way to a degree in Poly Sci. Both descended from people 
used to group parenting... as opposed to the nuclear 
family. Do you see where I'm heading?'
'I think so... ' Cadmann mused.
'Most of the Bottle Babies are of northern European 
stock. A thousand generations of nuclear family. Which 
they were denied here on Avalon. And Little Chaka, who 
has the best resistance to that particular loneliness, had in 
some ways the most support. '
'So you're saying he's not like the rest of them?'
'It's possible. He seems to have come out pretty well, 
don't you think?'
Cadmann thought of a question he had never asked. 
'What was your name before you changed it?'
'Denzil Washington. ' They both exploded with laughter.


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When they died down again, the first morning shadows 
streaked the ground outside. 'When I was in college, it was 
quite fashionable to take African names. Who the hell 
knows about my real ancestry? It's all too mixed up. So I 
just latched onto a Zulu name, and ran with it. And I was 
young enough to choose the name of a warrior king. '
Cadmann laughed with deep satisfaction. 'A New 
Guinea islander and a Chicago exobiologist both named 
after a Zulu war chief. That's rich. '
The mess-hall door opened and Aaron and Little 
Chaka came in. Aaron paused in the doorway. The sky 
outside was just light enough to provide a background, 
and Aaron seemed huge, intimidatingly large. That was 
certainly an illusion, but...
Cadmann levered himself to his feet, consciously standing 
erect. Aaron was no taller than he, but was... larger. More 
full of life. Cadmann felt old. A baton was changing hands 
here, and it was impossible to mistake it, or mistake the 
implication.
Jessica came in behind Aaron. 'Hi, dad. '
'Thanks for bringing us coffee from Camelot, ' Aaron 
said. 'Any left in the pot?'
'Sure, ' Cadmann said. 'What's the schedule for the 
day?'
'We thought we'd show you around, ' Aaron said. 
'There's a grendel lake down where the river forks thirty 
kilometres south of here. It looks like the grendels coop-
erate in maintaining dams. Like Earth beavers. '
'I would certainly like to see that, ' Big Chaka said. 'I 
want to give my report on the snow grendels-'
'Yeah, what did you find?' Aaron asked. 'We paid high 
for that head. '
'I believe my findings are significant, ' Big Chaka said. 
'Possibly even worth that price. But I would like to observe 
the beaver dam before I draw my final conclusions. Has


anyone taken water samples from that beaver lake?'
'No, that would be dangerous, ' Little Chaka said. 'Is it 
important?'
'It may be. '
'Well, we can try, ' Little Chaka said. 'But first you 
should see them. They'll be most active just about lunch 
time. We'll go and look, and you can give your lecture at 
dinner time. '
'Good. '
Cadmann said, 'Sylvia complained last night about lack of 
exercise. She may not want to spend the day in a skeeter 
looking at grendels. '
'That's all right, ' Aaron said. 'There's lots around here to 
look at. But that dam is in grendel country, rules say to take 
two skeeters. Jess, how about you and Justin go as backup 
for the Chakas. Cadmann, if Sylvia doesn't want to go to 
the grendel dam, we can hike up to the lake this afternoon. 
'
'Lake?' Cadmann asked. 'How far is this lake?'
'About ten kilometres, ' Aaron said. 'Don't worry, it's 
not a grendel lake. '
'We thought that about half the lakes on Camelot 
Island, ' Big Chaka said. 'But there was always a grendel. 
Always. '
'Not here, though, ' Little Chaka said. 'Guaranteed. No 
grendel, no samlon, and plenty of other wildlife around 
the lake. Snouters. And some spider devils. ' He grinned. 
'We caught you some alive, but you killed them. '
'They certainly died, ' Big Chaka said. 'Something missing 
in the artificial ecology we set up for them. Possibly we didn't 
give them enough meat, or the wrong kind. We'll have to 
set up cameras to observe them in the wild. '
'Sure, ' Little Chaka said. 'One of these days. '
'You don't sound very interested. '
Little Chaka shrugged. 'Dad, there's so much to learn


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here, and those are just bigger editions of the clothesline 
Joeys we have back at Eden Oasis. We've watched those 
for ages. '
Jessica came over. 'The ones at Eden are interesting, 
though Their mating rituals are a little odd -1 wonder if 
these do the same things?'
'Carnivorous Joeys?' Cadmann asked. 'I guess I haven't 
been following this. '
'Well, they're related to Joeys, ' Big Chaka said. 'Some 
structural differences, but yes, they're Joeys. '
Jessica nodded. 'The ones at Eden use those webs to 
catch the local equivalent of bees and insects. And birdies. 
I've seen them catch birdies. '
'But these are larger and go after bigger prey, ' Aaron 
said. 'Their bite is poisonous. '
'Not quite, ' Big Chaka said, 'That turned out to be a 
symbiotic bacterium that lives in their mouths. '
'I wonder if they're related to the bear?' Little Chaka 
said.
'Bears? Son, you haven't told me about bears. '
'We've never seen one, dad. Not up close. Cassandra 
caught a film of a herd of chamels kicking a critter that 
was maybe a metre and half long, but it was in the forest 
and we didn't see the end of the fight. We think they killed 
it. '
'It was about the size of an Earth black bear, so we 
called it a bear, ' Jessica said. 'But they must be rare. We've 
never found one. '
'They can't be all that rare, ' Aaron said. 'They influ-
enced the behaviour patterns of the chamels. But we sure 
can't find one anywhere. '
'Little herbivorous Joeys, ' Big Chaka mused. 'On 
Camelot and on the mainland. Then at Eden there are 
larger clothesline Joeys that string out sticky ropes and 
catch bees and birdies to eat. Here there are even larger


spider devil Joeys that can eat a small snouter. And now 
there's a bear? Is it related to the Joeys too?'
Little Chaka shrugged. 'No data. Look, we've got a 
couple of hours before we go look at the beavers. Let us 
show you around here after breakfast. '
Old Grendel was as close as she could come to happiness. 
Contentment, perhaps. She had found the water she 
sought, a pool fed by water which flowed down from the 
mountains. Cold water. Water that came from the ground. 
She dove in, and swam against the water, down into a pas-
sageway just wide enough for her thickness.
As she wound through subterranean passages, through 
places she hadn't been since she was a swimmer, she had to 
conserve her energy. There was no light here, and little heat.
There was danger above, and the danger grew stronger 
daily. She could smell the changes and, if she didn't 
respond to them, she was lost. She had lived long enough to 
have a vague abstract sense of her own mortality. She did 
not want to die. In the back of her mind, she perceived how 
this might be prevented.
If only she could make contact.
She swam until there was no air left in her lungs. In 
agony, she continued. The pain in her lungs eased, became 
something else, a familiar sensation usually perceived as 
rage and terror.
There was another use for speed, one that the weirds had 
not dreamed of. It was an oxygenator, and her body could 
use speed where there was no air. It enabled her to stay 
underwater longer than the weirds would have believed 
possible.
She glided. There was no light, but she could smell the


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currents, feel the water flow from above her, and move 
through the caverns toward her destination. There were 
times when rock squeezed her hard, but Old Grendel was a 
lean one, and she could contract her body into a compact 
missile.
Fire burned within her, a slow blaze of complete 
exhaustion. She had been underwater for almost twenty 
minutes now, crawling and swimming continuously and 
moving steadily up and up. Moving. She knew that she 
might be crawling to her death, but she was driven to 
know more. The risks she took now might change every-
thing. The weirds were intruders in a situation 
unchanged since the beginning of time. She had to know 
more about them. She had once thought of them as prey. 
They might still be that, but they were something more as 
well.
Her fear was fading now... and when her fear was quite 
gone, she would be dead. She understood that she was 
nearing the end of all limits, that only a few seconds 
remained... and then...
Light above her. She moved more quickly now, holding 
onto the last fading traces of her fear. She plunged up 
into the light, up into the wavery oval, through the water, 
out into the air, great lungs like bellows, gulping and 
expanding. Life was hers once again, and she might yet 
cheat the great mother, Death.
Time raved at her back, but she could do nothing now 
but breathe. There was no speed left in her. She couldn't 
have fought a snouter, now.
Not long after dawn, they walked northwest from 
Shangri-La.
A pufftree shook violently as they approached the strip


of forest. Justin looked for what had done that, but there 
was nothing to be seen.
Shangri-La was built on a flat area. To the east the 
land fell away to the river and grendel country. North 
and west were mountains. A thin strip of forest ran along 
the base of the mountains. The trees grew like green puff-
balls of varying size, shells of branches and orange-veined 
leaves, hollow inside. They'd spaced themselves, leaving 
room for man-sized creatures to squeeze between.
'Every pufftree is a little ecology, ' Little Chaka said. 
'Each one a little different. It's better to have armour, but if 
you probe with a stick first you can avoid getting bitten. 
There's a vicious little Joey that likes to lurk in here, and 
where the Joeys didn't get to- Here, dad-' He bent over 
one of the smaller trees and pulled the branches apart 
with his hands. Holding the hole open with his elbows, he 
poked his stick and flash inside, blocking the opening with 
his body.
'Nothing, ' he said.
Katya had a bigger tree open. She was ready to dodge 
away, but - 'Nothing big. I can smell something ranker 
than Joeys. We scared them away. '
Their nice little walk had turned into a mob scene. 
Aaron, Carlos, Big Chaka, Little Chaka, Jessica, Sylvia, 
Katya... Justin met his stepfather's grimace with a helpless 
grin. Any living thing would flee the pounding of feet.
Little Chaka was investigating another pufftree. He 
said, 'I was going to say, don't squeeze between two trees 
unless you've looked inside. We'd better do that anyway. 
It's a symbiosis. The way the trees space themselves, they 
can force big animals into range of the things that live 
inside. I've found a carnivore Joey and two kinds of nesting 
birdies, both vicious- Hey!' His stick poked and probed 
as if he were fencing, there in the dark inside the puffball. 
He retreated, and a big flying-saucer crab buzzed


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out after him; and another - three, four. Chaka was tap-
ping them lightly, knocking each off balance as it came 
near, and the birdies were furious. Suddenly they all 
veered off and away, downhill.
Big Chaka was sitting against a puffball, laughing. It 
was clear he didn't have the strength for anything else. 
Sylvia and Katya were snerkling behind their hands, and 
Cadmann was suddenly into a rolling belly laugh, and 
what the hell. The others sat down to take a break.
Uphill from the fringe of pufftree forest were rock and low 
scrubby bush like things with thorns. This was serious 
climbing. Cadmann would have been slowing the rest if 
Big Chaka hadn't slowed them further. But Big Chaka 
was seeing things: wildflowers, an abandoned birdie nest, 
old and fading tracks of something bear-sized.
They'd gone less than two kilometres in the hour since 
they left the puff trees.
Thirty metres away, Aaron said: 'Ouch!'
'What's going on?'
'Something bit me. ' Aaron hopped to his feet, and 
slapped his chest. 'Three of the darned things, ' he said. 
'Not a sting, a bite. ' Something that looked like a tiny crab 
or a big flea lay crushed on the ground. A second crawled 
away slowly.
Carlos picked the crushed lifeform up on the end of a 
twig. Enough of its insides bulged out that it adhered to 
the twig easily. It was thumb-sized, with a sharp-looking 
pair of mandibles. Suddenly, its shell unfolded, and crum-
pled wings began to blur the air.
'Whoa!' Carlos said. The little wings beat so violently 
that the whole twig shook. The twig jerked and trembled, 
and then was quiet.
Cadmann peered at the thing more carefully. 'Damn, ' 
he said, 'But that was fast. ' 


'Energetic, too, ' Big Chaka said. 'It looks a lot like 
speed, doesn't it?'
The others gathered around. 'Where did you find this?' 
Cadmann asked. 'Where were you sitting?'
They looked at a patch of ground near Aaron's feet, 
and found no more of the little creatures.
From a few metres away Carlos called, 'Over here!'
He poked under a bush dotted with light purple, some-
what fleshy flowers that reminded him of orchids. Several of 
the insect-like creatures hovered around the blossoms like 
hummingbirds.
'Nectar?' Katya asked.
'Nope. Something stinks. '
They brushed blossoms aside and uncovered the 
decomposed body of a creature the size of a woodchuck. It 
seethed with little crabs.
'Jesus, ' Cadmann grunted. 'Are these the local substi-
tute for flies?'
'Bite like a bitch, ' Aaron said.
Sylvia took out her first-aid kit. 'Let me see. '
'It's just-'
'Let me see, ' she said.
'Yes, ma'am. ' Aaron unfastened his shirt.
Sylvia swabbed the wounds clean, then poured on per-
oxide. It foamed as if it would eat him alive. 'There. It 
looks clean enough but - Dr Mubutu, may I borrow your 
portable unit?'
Little Chaka was carrying for both Chakas. He 
shrugged off his backpack and unzipped it, pulling out a 
metallic boxy contraption as big as both his hands: a 
portable analyser. Sylvia took the twig from Cadmann, 
teased the dead bug off the end and dropped it into the 
box. She touched an oblong button on the side and it 
began to hum. In a moment the bug would be flash-
burned, and the results relayed to the main camp and


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uplinked to Cassandra. With luck she would then report 
that there were no toxic substances-
Blam.
The miniature unit jarred in her hand. Seams popped.
They all jumped. Then Big Chaka quickly leaned for-
ward and sniffed. Black smoke rose from the ruined 
analyser.
'Dear God, ' Sylvia said shakily. 'What was that all 
about?'
The device's shattered components barely clung 
together. Carlos said, 'Pranksters?'
For a moment, the glade crackled with tension.
'Pranksters?' Sylvia demanded, still shaken. 'What idiot 
would sabotage Chaka's analyser?'
'Calm, ' Carlos said. 'I'm sorry. I thought it was obvi-
ous. I see that Dr Mubutu understands. '
Big Chaka nodded. He turned to Cadmann and said, 
'Tell me... if you put a chunk... say a chunk the size of 
your fingernail... of speed into an analyser, what would 
it do?'
'Bang?'
'We need to find another of these things. Don't disturb 
those on the corpses. We may not want to irritate them. '
They had the crushed bug on the end of a stick. Justin and 
Katya had built a small, busy fire of sticks and bits of 
moss. Chaka Mubutu held the bug out over the fire. Its 
legs curled, its shell peeled up and-
Blam.
The sharp sound was as loud as a firecracker, and 
about as powerful. The tip of the stick flew into bits, and 
they jumped back half a metre.
'Freeze me blind, ' Cadmann said.
Dr Mubutu spoke gravely. 'Excuse me, ladies and gen-
tlemen, but I think that we can state, officially and for the


record, that we have discovered a second lifeform on this 
planet that uses speed. '
'What exactly does that mean?' Sylvia asked.
'I want to think on it before I say. ' Big Chaka looked 
thoughtful. 'We have a lot to talk about tonight when I 
give my report, ' he said. 'But now I want to see the 
beavers. '
Carlos looked thoughtfully eastwards. 'I think I will 
follow those bees, ' he said. 'Katya can show me the 
beavers another time. '


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32 - The Beavers
Bees accomplish nothing save as they work 
together, and neither do men.
Elbert Hubbard
'So, ' Carlos said, climbing steadily. Dios mio - he was 
glad for the regular fitness sessions with Cadmann. It felt 
as if his muscles would burst free of the bones. Torture! 
'How are things with young Weyland?'
Katya laughed, and held a branch aside for her father. 
She paused, stopping to search for the trace of a trail. She 
held her hand up, and whispered, 'Stop. Listen. '
He did, and heard the sounds of wind in the trees, and a 
far-off animal burr. And something else.
An insect sound. A slight buzzing.
'Look, ' she said. Another dead animal lay before them, 
this one picked to the bone. Several of the weird bee-crabs 
crawled over the remains. She whispered into her collar. 
'Cassandra, we have a visual bee sighting. Small carcase. 
Six or seven bugs. '
'Acknowledged. '
She wiped her forehead with her bandanna, and leaned 
back against a tree. 'Well, I guess you were asking about 
my love life?'


'Prying, ' Carlos said distinctly. 'I was prying. '
'Yes. Well, I think that we're getting along fine. We've 
had some genuine moments here. I like what's happening. ' 
She smiled at her father shrewdly. 'Why? Why are you so 
concerned about me? You've done quite well all these 
years, and you've never had a real relationship. '
'None permanent. But some were very intense. '
'But none permanent. Bobbie?' she asked.
He shrugged. 'I just never got that close again. Parlour 
psychoanalysis might say that I don't think I'm worthy. '
'And you think that I should? Isn't that a bit of a double 
standard?'
'You're worthy. '
'Well, hey, ' Katya said, and blushed. She'd been watch-
ing the bees come and go from the carcase. Now she 
pointed. 'The nest must be over there, beyond that ridge. 
Shall we go look?'
Cadmann felt most comfortable after he began to perspire. 
It felt as if the rust were working out of his muscles.
They had climbed high enough above the forest that he 
could see over it and down into Shangri-La, see and feel 
the pulse of life within. It reminded him of a time, long 
before, when he had looked down on Camelot. That was 
in the colony's early days. He was a younger man. A 
stronger man. A man with far fewer doubts and aches. He 
was with his best friends, Ernst Cohen and Sylvia Falkner.
She was pregnant then, pregnant with Justin. She had 
struggled to keep up. Not admitting her weakness, the...
Very real differences between men and women.
He and Ernst. How much he had loved Ernst. And how 
much of that love was the sort of love you feel for a faithful 
animal? One who never questions, never rebels, who 
follows you without question? Dr Ernst with ice on his


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mind. Dr Ernst, once one of the most brilliant humans 
alive, and now with the mind of a twelve-year-old. If that.
How much is our humanity measured in terms of our 
relationships? Every man feels more... human in the 
presence of a faithful animal. Or slave?
God. He hated these thoughts. And here was Aaron, so 
much like Ernst had been. Strong. And tall. And brilliant. 
But Aaron had his mind. All of his mind.
What he had never really had was a family.
If there were problems in that young head, well, for 
God's sake! The kid was only nineteen years old. What 
would he be doing if he were on Earth? In his second year 
of college? Perhaps a grad student. Or maybe he would 
have taken a year or two off and backpacked through 
Europe. Or spent a year on an engineering scholarship on 
one of the energy satellites ?
Maybe he would have lucked out. The lunar colony. Or 
maybe he would have done what Cadmann himself did, 
and take a commission. At nineteen Cadmann was at 
West Point, preparing for his first command.
But no terrestrial option would have placed Aaron in 
the kind of situation he faced on Avalon. He was making 
decisions that might well influence the whole future of 
humanity, here, ten light years from the cradle of 
mankind. Too much stress. Too much isolation. Too little 
support.
It was Cadmann's job to reach out to Aaron. Perhaps it 
wasn't too late to be friends. He had to try.
Just after local noon Justin and Jessica flew barely thirty 
metres above the river and followed it south toward the 
fork. It was an old river with many twists and turns, but it 
ran fairly straight here as it fell four hundred metres in less 
than twenty kilometres. Tau Ceti burned brightly


through thin high clouds, and Justin watched Skeeter I's 
shadow as it was overtaken by Little Chaka's craft. He 
resisted the urge to turn their trip into a race: Big Chaka 
was Skeeter IV's passenger, and Big Chaka hated speed.
Their radio crackled. 'How close have you been?' Big 
Chaka asked.
'We've scouted by air many times, ' Jessica answered. 
'Haven't had time to organize a trip on foot. That's grendel 
country, and we try to stay out, because the only way we 
know to deal with a grendel is to flush it out and shoot it. '
'And that tends to disrupt the ecology, ' Justin said. 
'Aaron doesn't like that. '
'Nor should he, ' Dr Mubutu said.
'Yeah. Anyway, this is a genuine Avalon Surprise. We 
seem to find a new one every week. '
They were approaching the fork where two rivers com-
bined to become the big river that ran south past 
Deadwood and on to the sea. They turned to follow the 
northwest branch, and just beyond the fork Little Chaka 
slowed and hovered his skeeter. They were above a wide 
rough oval of blue water. At the far downstream end the 
hills on either side of the stream came together to form a 
narrows. A line of boulders stood in the water there, and 
behind the boulders a matted webbing of tree trunks and 
branches formed a dam. Broad, powerful dark shapes 
swam in the lake.
Justin held his breath. This was something that they 
hadn't even videoed for Cassandra. Little Chaka had 
wanted it as a surprise for his father. There was a long 
pause. Skeeter IV hovered only twenty metres of so above 
the water. The water surface rippled in waves. A broad 
powerful shape glared up at them. Its oddly flattened 
body reminded Justin of an aquatic ankylosaurus. Broad, 
powerful tail, triangular head. He wondered if it had feet, or 
flippers. One thing was certain: despite the surface


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differences, they were looking at a variety of grendel.
'Like a beaver dam, ' Big Chaka finally said, wonder-
ingly. 'It's beautiful. '
Jessica and Justin exchanged smiles. 'Have you ever 
actually seen one, Dr Mubutu?' she asked.
'You bet. In Kalamazoo, Michigan, where I grew up. '
'And there-' Little Chaka said. 'Do you see?'
'I sure do, son. ' Big Chaka's voice held deep content-
ment, as if he were listening to a new music composition or 
enjoying a good meal. 'Two grendels are pushing that log 
into place, and another is watching us watch them. Take 
us closer to that spillway, please. The one on our right. '
'Sure-
'As I thought, ' Big Chaka said. 'Note the branches 
placed at the spillway. They're straining the water there, 
but - now look at the other spillway area. A different 
structure. '
Justin steered the skeeter to the downstream end of the 
lake and hovered above the dam. 'I never noticed that, ' he 
said. 'But look, they strain the water over there; here 
there's that series of pools. Reminds me of - Cassandra, 
what does that remind me of?'
'Searching-'
'Salmon ladders, ' Big Chaka said.
'Fish ladders, ' Cassandra said at almost the same time. 
'Structures to allow fish to swim upstream at dam sites. 
Used extensively on the North American continent on 
Earth. '
'Cassandra. Enlarge those animals, ' Little Chaka said.
Jessica linked with Chaka, so that she could get the 
same visuals. A holographic window opened in the middle 
of their windscreen.
'Beautiful, ' Big Chaka repeated. 'Just what I thought. '
There was no doubt about it. There were at least six


shapes in the water. A scale running at the lower edge of 
the screen said that they were about two metres in length. 
Two of them carried chunks of tree limb. Two were wedging 
mud into the cracks of their dam. A grendel's work is never 
done.
'Social cooperation, ' Big Chaka breathed. 'We 
wouldn't have believed it back in the old days, but I knew 
that something like this might exist. Now take us up river, 
and set us down about a kilometre or so above the dam. '
The two skeeters wheeled northwards. 'Cassandra, ' 
Justin said. 'Safety scan, please. '
'I see nothing in your area. The lake grendels are con-
cerned with their dam. '
7s this the only dam?' Big Chaka asked.
'Negative, ' Cassandra answered. 'Prior to the recent 
flooding there were seven between here and the sea, and I 
can identify four more upstream. The nearest downstream 
from here is fifty-seven kilometres to the southwest. '
'Thank you. '
'Should we land?' Justin asked.
'I see no obvious danger, ' the computer answered. 'I 
cannot answer the question as asked. '
'Cancel, ' Justin said. 'All right, it looks safe. Let's do it. '
They landed on a mound of rock fifty metres from the 
river. Jessica was out first, grendel gun at the ready. Big 
Chaka had already shouldered his backpack. He darted 
toward the river. 'I need water samples. '
'Are you sure about that?' his son asked, anxiously.
'Absolutely. You don't think that these creatures would 
go through all the trouble to build a dam like this if they 
could hunt, do you?'
'I don't know. But if they can cooperate with each 
other, why can't they cooperate with hunters?' Justin 
demanded. 'Oh, well. ' He swung down out of the pilot's 
seat and checked his rifle.


469
468
 


'Cassandra. What observation capability do you have?'
'Satellite 4 will remain in observing range for twelve 
minutes, resolution one metre, ' the computer answered. 
'There are grendels in the water six hundred metres down-
stream. I detect no large land animals near you. '
'Keep looking. ' The river looked peaceful. Maybe fif-
teen kilometres northwest, snowcapped mountain peaks 
stood out with startling clarity. There was another 
range visible to the northeast, and behind that range the 
veldt stretched north and east for a thousand kilometres.
'Come on, ' Big Chaka called out. Little Chaka carried a 
hand-held scanner and had a rifle slung over his right 
shoulder.
Justin caught up with Little Chaka. 'He lives for this, 
doesn't he?' Justin scanned the river. His head swept 
slowly from left to right. He knew, without looking, that 
Jessica was doing the same.
The river bed clay was yellowish, sun-blasted and 
cracked in rivulets. The warped and twisted trees along the 
banks suggested alternate periods of flood and drought.
'What are you looking for?' Little Chaka asked.
'Samples. The usual, ' his adopted father said, but there 
was something about his voice that said: I'm not ready to 
talk about it yet.
'Does this have anything to do with the grendel 
autopsy?' Jessica asked. 'Or the deaths?'
'Everything on Avalon has to do with grendels. ' Big 
Chaka smiled faintly. 'Maybe one day that won't be true. 
But for now... '
He knelt down and took a flask from his pocket. He 
scooped a small sample of mud into it. 'Is this where 
Tonya was swimming when she picked up the fluke?'
'No, of course not, ' Little Chaka said. 'We don't swim 
here. There are grendels out there!'


'Ah. Well, it will have to do, ' Big Chaka said.
Little Chaka looked at his scanner. 'I really don't want 
to stay here any longer than we have to. '
Big Chaka nodded regretfully. He looked down to the 
south. Eight hundred metres away, grendels were operating 
within a social contract. He would have to see that 
phenomenon, and study it at length.
'Maybe tomorrow, dad, ' Little Chaka said softly. 'Let's 
get out of here. '
Big Chaka nodded. 'Yes, I must prepare for my pres-
entation this evening. '
'Need us?' Justin asked.
'Thank you, but my son will be more than sufficient 
help. '
Justin and Jessica followed the Chakas back to Shangri-La 
and watched them land safely. Tau Ceti beat on them 
through the windshield. The air whipping through the 
vents seemed to have flowed over a blast furnace first. 
Jessica wiped her sleeve across her forehead. 'Polite, 
wasn't he?' Jessica said. '"My son will be more than suf-
ficient-"' she giggled.
'I noticed that, ' Justin said. 'Imagine, he's embarrassed 
to say he wants some time alone with his son. So what do 
we do now?'
'We could go find Carlos and Katya, ' Jessica said with 
amiable malice.
'Dad and Sylvia. Aaron's taking them up to the lake. ' 
He banked and headed off northwest.
'I'm roasting, ' Jessica said. She uncorked a thermos 
and gulped water, than handed it over to Justin.
He drank gratefully. Even the water was warm. 'Pretty 
fierce, ' he said.
She nodded, and looked back down at the terrain


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470
 


below them. It was broken by rock and trees, sloping up 
toward the mountains still to the west.
'You know what we could do?' she asked. Suddenly, 
her voice sparkled.
'What?'
'Let's go to the swimming hole for a dip. '
'If we can find it. ' He thought for a moment. 
'Cassandra, did we tell you to label any place near 
Shangri-La as a swimming hole?'
'Yes. A meadow in the woods eleven kilometres north-
west of your present position is designated "The Old 
Swimming Hole. "' A red circle appeared on the skeeter's 
map display.
'That's it. Scan the area-'
'Done, ' Cassandra said. 'No dangers detected. The area 
is designated safe from grendels. You are reminded to 
scan the meadow before landing. '
'Yeah, yeah, ' Justin said.
The meadow was an oval a hundred metres by sixty. A 
sluggish stream ran through it, deep as a shoe top, and in 
the exact centre was a circular pond ten metres in 
diameter.
They flew around the perimeter of the meadow. 
'Nothing there, ' Justin said. 'Cassandra, you agree?'
'Affirmative. '
He dropped the skeeter onto the thick grass about 
twenty metres from the pond that was all that remained of 
the lake from which the meadow had formed. The 
meadow grass was about knee-high, and not very thick.
'Race you!'
'Last one in is a rotten Scribe belch!'
Justin reached the hole only two steps ahead of Jessica 
but his momentum belly-flopped him into the water.
He glared down at the dripping muck on his shirt.
'Yerch, ' he said. Jessica could hardly restrain herself,


and finally collapsed to the shore, holding her sides and 
bellowing with laughter.
'You should... see yourself, ' she gasped, red-faced.
'Ha ha, ' he said.
He began to shuck himself out of the clothes. Wrung 
his shirt out and tossed it up onto the dry ground. 
Followed by his shorts. This is great, ' he called out to her. 
'Come on in. '
She hesitated for a moment, and then said a silent what 
the hell, and shucked herself out of her clothes and dove 
in.
Justin hurled a shoe, then another, then his balled-up 
underwear. Nice grouping.
Jessica swam with powerful strokes. The hole was only 
ten metres across, two metres deep at its deepest. The 
water was crystal clear, right down to the rocky floor. No 
nasty surprises lurked in the darkness.
With an uncomfortable bit of self-awareness Justin 
noted that Jessica's strokes were actually more masculine 
than his. He tended to be more fluid, almost elegant. 
Aaron had both qualities, and it was one of the things that 
let him swim rings around-
Dammit, he refused to let things get complicated. Right 
now life was good. The sky was very blue and the clouds 
were very white. The twisted trees framed the swimming 
hole beautifully.
'Race you, ' she said. 'Ten laps. '
He sighed, but gritted his teeth. All right. He was faster 
on the land, but swimming was a toss-up.
Justin bore down, blanked his mind, and began to 
cleave the water. In the struggle, both of them forgot 
everything but the effort, and it was a glorious day. Jessica 
slid up next to him in the water, and shovelled a wave into 
his face. He splashed back, the race completely forgotten.
For the moment, both of them were completely content.


472
473
 


They swam twice more, and on the last attempt he beat 
her. She gasped for one more race, and he declined. He 
was completely drained. His breath came in great sob-
bing gulps, but he dragged himself up onto a rock, and 
looked down at her.
She looked up at him, and laughed, and suddenly some-
thing in her eyes changed. 'Justin, ' she said. 'Look at your 
side. '
Something nestled against his ribs that looked like a 
mass of plastic blood. It was pale, almost transparent, but 
was shot through with veiny structures. As he watched, 
the veins pulsed and engorged with blood.
'Jesus, ' he moaned. 'More of these jellyfish things?'
She climbed out of the water. 'Stop complaining. At 
least they're not toxic. They just want a little blood. 
You're being childish and inhospitable. '
'Ha ha. Why don't you come up here and help me be 
even more inhospitable still?'
'At your service, ' she said, and climbed up.
The leech things were fairly harmless, transparent, not 
much thicker than. leaves. They became visible only when 
engorged with blood. Many of the rivers and lakes had 
them - in fact, the entire continent was generously sup-
plied with parasites, but none had transmitted any 
amoeboids or bacteria. They just stole blood.
Jessica went for her backpack, opened it and took out a 
salt shaker. She sprinkled salt on the leech.
There was no pain, and Justin had time to look at her. 
Dammit, he wished his mind would stop that. Somehow, it 
just seemed as if her face had changed, or as if he hadn't 
ever really looked at her before.
She tucked her knees up, and wrapped her arms around: 
them.
'Now we wait for a minute, ' she said.
They had been close like this many times before, ever


since childhood. Nudity was nothing new or unusual for 
them. But now...
Now the curve of her back, the shape of her smile, 
even the dampness of her hair seemed so inviting, so...
Before he knew exactly what he was doing, he leaned 
over and kissed her. He held it for a moment. Her eyes 
went very wide, and then she drew back, startled.
Her eyes narrowed again. 'What was that for?'
'Just a passing thought. '
'Uh-huh. ' He couldn't tell, but he thought that her 
mouth had curled into the slightest of smiles.
The silence between them grew strained. Justin's body 
had several map-shaped red splotches where the parasites 
had fallen away. Antiseptic was swabbed on, and he felt 
fine now. But, somehow, neither of them had remembered to 
put their clothes back on.
'You need to take better care of yourself, ' Jessica said. 
She ran her finger along the horseshoe ridge of muscle on his 
upper arm, and then, as if a sudden thought had interrupted 
the first, she leaned back, and turned away.
Justin leaned forward, and kissed her shoulder. Then, 
softly, he rubbed his cheek against it. A day's stubble gave a 
sandpapery edge to the motion.
Then he kissed it again, and pulled back.
Their eyes met, and it was one of those moments 
where the rest of the world drops away into nothing, 
where the rest of the sights and sounds and smells of the 
universe simply vanish. There was nothing in the entire 
world but her eyes, and then her lips, and the fresh, salty 
taste of her mouth, and her hands whisper-soft upon his 
shoulders.
It was a vortex. Innocent and light, but hypnotic. The 
kiss lasted for perhaps twenty seconds, then she pulled 
back, and there was something in her eyes that he had 
never seen in them before. Yearning, perhaps. And sadness.


474
475
 


She leaned forward and kissed him back, softly, and then 
more urgently.
The heat was just beginning to grow when she placed 
her hands, her palms flat against his chest, and pushed 
him firmly away.
She laughed and stood, tossed her hair and ran into the 
woods.
It was a challenge as old as time, as old as the man-
woman thing which drove all human life. It wasn't a race. 
It was the race. And the grand prize was...
He jumped off his seat and ran, laughing, into the 
woods, the tangled knotted, vine-hung woods that grew 
here on the far side of the mountains, and he saw that he 
could catch her. There were three reasons. One, he was a 
little faster, except over long distances. Two, she had to 
break the trail. All he had to do was follow.
Three, and most important - she wanted him to win.
He lost sight of her for a moment and-
There she was, just ahead of him. She turned her head 
around to see him, gave a little squeak, and...
Collided with a spider devil nest.


33 - Love and Fear
Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear
To be we know not what, we know not where.
John Dryden, Aureng-Zebe (1676)
They had crossed the ridge and were back in the forest. 
Sylvia stepped out to pass Cadmann, who was taking a little 
extra time to study the trees and the paths. She watched 
Aaron carefully. He was so tall, so well formed. His mus-
cles slid smoothly under his tanned skin, and he moved 
with such confidence. Almost like some kind of machine, 
and her heart went out to him. She had never been a 
mother to him, had never offered him any of the comforts 
that might have made his life easier. And she yearned to 
do something... anything... to bridge the chasm between 
them.
'So... you come up here often?' she asked lamely, sur-
prised that she was able to get that much out between 
laboured breaths.
He smiled down at her. 'I try to get up into the hills as 
often as possible, ' he said. 'It gives me a chance to feel in 
synch with the land. '
'This... is really what you wanted all along. '
He nodded. A small, warm smile creased his lips. 'Isn't 
it what you wanted? All of you?'


476
477
 


'I suppose so. ' She walked along with him for a time, 
wondering how to broach the one question that burned in 
her mind. 'Aaron... you and I have never had much time to 
talk. '
'A couple of wonderful dinners though, ' he laughed. 'I 
can still remember the menu. Cornbread, turnip greens, 
prime rib. '
She knew that she had invited him to the house, but for 
the life of her she couldn't remember what had been said, 
or eaten, or done. And that was a terrible pity. Her child, 
but she couldn't be completely certain of any single inter-
action. She was struck by a wave of remorse so powerful it 
shocked her.
'Did it... bother you?' she asked. 'That you never had 
parents?'
He laughed. 'What are you talking about? The whole 
colony was my family, remember?'
The next question was unspoken. Did you ever wonder 
who your parents were? If either or both of them were 
here on Avalon? Did you ever look into the faces of the 
Earth Born, and wonder if one of us was the One? Did 
you ever look at me and wonder, Aaron? Did you ever cry at 
night because no one would take the final responsibility for 
you? No one would give the final damn?
But she couldn't ask those questions. Not yet. Maybe 
later. Later, when she had the opportunity to get him by 
himself. Later, when maybe they could both get a little 
drunk. That might be the best choice after all. It might be 
the only choice.
There were more bees here.
Cadmann adjusted his binoculars and watched as a 
cloud of Avalon insects fed on the corpse of some kind of 
marsupial. 'What do you think?' he asked Aaron. 'Did the 
bees attack it?'


'We've never seen attack behaviour from Avalon bees, ' 
Aaron said irritably. 'Scavenging, yes, a lot of that. I 
would bet you that poor critter fell out of the tree and 
broke its neck. The body began to decompose, and the 
scent attracted the bees. I don't think those are killers. '
There was a steady line of bees arriving, eating, circling in 
a little lazy pattern abuzz with other bees (as if they were 
having a little community hoe-down, Cadmann thought), 
then heading back off into the distance.
'Cassandra, note the direction of the bee travel. '
'Noted. Combined with data supplied by Carlos it is 
now reasonable to conclude that the nest is some twelve 
kilometres to your northeast. '
'Probability?' Cadmann asked automatically.
'Numerical estimate impossible. '
'That's interesting, ' Cadmann said. 'Your fuzzy-logic 
program used to give numerical estimates. What hap-
pened?'
'My exactness criteria were changed. '
'Oh? By whom?'
'I do not know, ' Cassandra said.
'Edgar, ' Cadmann muttered. 'One of these days I'll kill 
him, so help me... You said data supplied by Carlos. He's 
found more bees too?'
'Affirmative. '
'How far is this lake now?' Cadmann asked.
Aaron said. 'Maybe another hour. Mostly level from 
here. '
'And downhill coming back, ' Cadmann said. 'OK. I 
wouldn't want to miss Chaka's lecture. I - think it may be 
important. '
'What about the bees?' Sylvia asked. 'Chaka seemed 
very interested in them. '
Cadmann nodded. 'He sure did. But they'll keep until 
tomorrow. Here, need a hand over that rock?'


479
478
 


'Yes, thank you. It's strange, ' she said. 'It's hard to 
believe Aaron's the same boy you used to take on Grendel 
Scout overnighters. Eight years old? Nine?'
'When what?'
'The swimming competition. Remember that?'
'Where Justin nearly drowned?'
She nodded her head. 'He always pushed himself so 
hard against Aaron. '
'No need for him to do that, ' Cadmann said. 'Justin is 
his own boy. '
'But to be a man he had to be like his father. And you 
were the closest he could come. '
Cadmann knew that she was getting at something but 
wasn't quite certain what it was. 'So?'
'So... he watched the two of you together. You and 
Aaron. Just like I have. And he sees what I see. '
'And what is that?'
'That you and Aaron are two of the same type. Justin 
wants you to love him. Aaron wants to be you. Which of 
them will really get your love? Which will get your 
respect? And which of those things would a boy rather 
have?'
Cadmann brushed a column of branches out of his 
woman's face. 'Are you saying that I would rather have 
had Aaron as a son than Justin?'
'No. I wouldn't presume to say that. But maybe Justin 
thinks that you would rather have had Aaron than him. 
And, sometimes, that's all it takes. '
Was it true? Was there a place within Cadmann that 
preferred Aaron as an heir? Even now? More than Justin 
or...
Or Mickey? His own flesh and blood. God. He never 
spent time with the boy. And now Mickey spent most of 
his time up in the mining camp where Big Chaka did 
biology and Stevens was rebuilding the mining equipment.


Before Linda's death, the last time Mickey had come 
down of his own accord was to watch Stevens get creamed 
by Aaron in the debate.
Great.
Cadmann Weyland, Father of the Year.
It was probably too late to do anything about that. 
How much of the competition between Justin and Aaron 
was his fault?
He didn't know. He really didn't. All that he could do 
was to try to heal the rift, if he could. While he could. And 
to that he pledged himself.
Sylvia watched Aaron. He was so strong, so handsome, so 
very much a leader. There was so much in the way that he 
swung his arms, so much in the way he called back to 
them, that reminded her of Cadmann. Whoever this man 
Koskov, the one who contributed half of Aaron's genetic 
material, had been, she knew instinctively that she would 
have liked him.
She allowed herself a momentary fantasy. What might it 
have been like to accept the father's genetic material in the 
more conventional fashion... ?
But there was the very real possibility of damage, things 
wrong with Aaron that she couldn't see, sicknesses of the 
spirit beneath anything that she could reach. And if that 
were true, whose fault was that?
No one's.
So strong, so much a leader, so handsome, and possibly 
damaged. What kind of mother would she have been? A 
lot of pain bubbled up with that thought. Pain, and 
thoughts very different from the intellectual justifications 
they fed each other about the children. She should have 
nurtured him in her body. Let him feel her love, her fear, 
her longings. These are the rhythms of human life. The 
extreme mood swings of mothers - in a sense, didn't they


481
480
 


train the children? Hormonal communications, saying: 
This is life, my child. These emotions, the highs and the 
lows. Drink deeply of all of it, but no matter what it is 
that you feel, in the midst of it... there is love, there is this 
total acceptance within my body.
These experiences Aaron had been denied.
And this was something that she had to live with now. 
But perhaps, just perhaps there was still time to do some-
thing about it. And, if there was, she would.
'It's the richness of it all, ' Cadmann said. 'Everything 
depends on everything else. Big Chaka showed me twenty 
parasites and symbiotes living in just the spider devils. '
'Samlon too. ' Aaron smiled. 'Every samlon is a colony. '
'And these horsemane trees are like a world unto them-
selves. Hell-lo!'
Those three trees stood like winter-naked beeches. 
Their manes lay broken, in three parallel lines. They must 
have fallen away in one piece and broken on impact. New 
manes were growing, not much more than green fur.
And Aaron was laughing. 'Avalon Surprise! Funny, 
isn't it, how it always makes sense after you know. What 
happens is, this breed drops its entire mane every so often. It 
keeps down the parasites. Then it's got to survive while it 
grows a new mane, so it stores a lot of sugar. We've been 
thickening the sap by vacuum evaporation. You'll have to 
tell me, Cadmann, Sylvia - tell me if it tastes like maple 
syrup. '
'It won't be the same. Not made that way, ' Sylvia said. 
'If you don't caramelize maple sugar, it tastes like sugar 
water. The flavour comes from half-charring it. '
Cadmann had been looking about him with new eyes. 
'There are a lot of those. One out of four trees is growing a 
new mane. Why didn't I see it before? Why are they all 
doing it?'


'Chaka said higher insolation, ' Aaron said. 'More sun-
light means more sugar means more congress bugs and 
Joeys and everything else that lives in a horsemane. When 
the tree's supporting too many squatters, it just pushes the 
house over. '
'We get to those rocks, I want to stop. I've got a pebble in 
my shoe, ' Sylvia said.
Cadmann looked at her a moment. Til just move on 
ahead. Aaron, I wouldn't do that in strange territory. '
Aaron caught the implication. 'We've been dumping 
speed in this lake once a week for the past six months. It 
doesn't drain, Cadmann. There aren't any grendels here. I 
was hoping we'd find you our bear, though. '
'You mentioned that at breakfast. '
'There was something like a bear here two years ago, 
when we did the preliminary. Three hundred kilos, it 
looked like. Possibly an overgrown Joey. We can't find 
hide nor hair of it now. '
'Maybe it hibernates?'
'It isn't winter. '
'Estivates, then. '
Sylvia stopped to adjust her boot. Her eyes met 
Cadmann's briefly. He smiled and walked on ahead, leaving 
her with Aaron.
A dozen times, in two dozen different ways, Sylvia almost 
asked Aaron the crucial question. Do you know that you 
are my son? Do you care? Would it be good for him to 
know? Did it matter?
And, because there was no answer to any of her ques-
tions, she wanted to engage his interest, his mind. She 
wanted to know who the young man was behind the perfect 
physique, the handsome face, the piercing eyes.
'What was it like for you?' he finally said, breaking the 
silence. 'In the very early days?' He stopped, and then


482
483
 


smiled almost shyly. 'No. That's not really the question I 
wanted to ask. '
'What is?'
'The question I wanted to ask was why did you really 
come to another star?'
'I don't understand. '
'I know the official answers: exploration, adventure... 
but why you? Why this particular adventure? All of you. 
All of the Earth Born have a conservative streak which 
would seem to be completely different from the high-ho 
adventurers that came out here originally. So... what's 
the real truth?'
She was a little startled by the question, but caught the 
meaning behind it almost immediately.
They told themselves that they came to capture and 
tame a new world. Settlers had always dealt with such 
emotions - and dealt with losses such as the Earth Born 
had sustained.
They told themselves that they grew more conserva-
tive, more fearful, because they didn't know if anyone 
would ever come to join them from Earth. Or, indeed, if 
something had happened on Earth, something terrible, 
which precluded anyone else from following them to the 
stars.
But maybe...
'You're quiet, ' he said.
'I was just thinking. That was a good question. I guess if 
I was to answer for myself - and I certainly can't answer for 
anyone else - I'd have to say that I had my husband, and 
he had a dream. I shared the dream. Maybe not as much 
as he did. '
'What did you lose coming out?' he asked.
'I had family. Friends. '
'And career?'
'No! Avalon fits my career fine. But I think on some


deep level I got pulled out of my academic studies by my 
husband. '
'And then you met Cadmann?' Aaron smiled.
'Aboard ship. You know a lot about those early days, ' 
she said.
'There are a lot of diaries and journals on public record. 
Interesting blank spots in them, too. A lot of public video. It 
was easy to see that your attraction to Cadmann began 
while you were still married. '
She sighed. 'He was dashing. And I think that I'd never 
met anyone quite like him. And I... guess that it was a 
little overwhelming. A new world, with new sights and 
smells. I think that there is a part of a woman that wants to 
line up behind or beside the strongest, wildest male she can 
find, and have his children. '
'But you didn't do anything about that?'
'Not until after Terry died, no. '
'But you thought about it. '
She had to grin. 'Yes, I thought about it. Now that's 
enough questions, darn it. ' Stop prying into mother's busi-
ness...
His smile was secretive but warm, and he broke the 
trail ahead of them step by step, her son making the way 
for the mother he didn't know.
It was what mountaineers called a 'hanging lake', tucked 
into a ledge. The ground sloped up steeply on the south 
and west, so that long shadows fell on that side of the 
water well before it would be dusk anywhere else. Now 
those shadows stretched across the lake, creating a false 
evening. Cadmann believed he could hear the hum of 
nearby bees, but could no longer see them.
He put his war specs on thermal mode.
The shadows went orange. The trees surrounding the 
lake floated in a ghostly haze. There was little there that


484
485
 


could have been seen in broad daylight. The entire mood 
was quiet, calm.
A sudden movement behind the stand of trees captured 
his attention instantly. What the hell... ?
A small, bustling shape emerged from the brush. A 
snouter, one of the pig-like things common in the low-
lands and reasonably plentiful on the high plateaux. It 
saw Cadmann twenty metres away, squeaked and started 
to turn.
In a sudden blur of motion something tore out of the 
woods and slammed into the snouter so fast that he didn't 
have time to think. He watched, fascinated, as the monster 
which had suddenly emerged raised its head, blew flames 
into the night air.
The back of Cadmann's neck went cold and clammy.
A grendel.
God. What was it doing here?
Well, in one way it was a stupid question. At the 
moment, it was feasting. Cadmann shouldered his rifle, 
and prepared to fire. The grendel stopped.
And looked up.
Directly at him. Cadmann's finger was on the trigger. 
He felt the tension of it, felt the trigger's breaking point, 
knew that another gram of pressure would send the bolt 
of electric death on its way.
The grendel's eyes. They saw him. And for the first, the 
very first time ever he didn't feel emptiness there. It wasn't 
death and destruction.
It was... something else. Something even more dis-
turbing.
He waited for the grendel to attack. Why? Was he 
giving it a chance? Was that like some bullshit Western-
gunfighter credo, some small-town marshal in a bad B-
movie? It's your move, Ringo...
He didn't know why, but he just couldn't bring himself


to pull that damned trigger. There he stood, facing this 
thing with its teeth slimed with blood, its muzzle befouled 
with black and the snouter's carcase still twitching in front of 
it. Cadmann just couldn't make himself move.
He heard motion behind him. Sylvia and Aaron. 
Aaron's rifle was off his back and into firing position-
Cadmann waved violently. No. ' Aaron paused.
The grendel lashed its tail around and into the corpse. It 
dragged the body into the brush, and was gone.
Cadmann lowered the rifle.
'That was a grendel!' Sylvia said.
Cadmann nodded.
Sylvia looked at him strangely. 'You didn't shoot. You 
didn't let Aaron shoot. '
'We were in no danger, ' Cadmann said. 'It wasn't going 
to attack us. It was just hungry. '
'Yes, but - a grendel?' Sylvia said wonderingly. She 
turned on Aaron, blazing. 'You said this lake was safe!'
'It was, ' Aaron said. 'We were sure it was. There's no 
way a grendel could have got in here-'
'Except that one did, ' Cadmann said. 'And I think that's 
enough excitement for the day. Let's call in the skeeters 
for a ride back. '
Aaron nodded. 'Right. And I want to ask Chaka a few 
questions... '
Old Grendel ran.
In an instant she was out of sight of the weirds. She 
didn't slow. She was into the blowholes before they could 
have seen where she disappeared. She was underwater and 
swimming hard before the speed could leave her blood. If 
the Strongest One changed her mind, brought other weirds 
to kill her, they would not find Old Grendel.
Her life had hung by a ragged toenail. But she had


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learned! That one had not killed her. That other was about 
to kill her, and that one had waved her back. That one was 
the Strongest One, and she was willing to deal with Old 
Grendel!
They would meet again. But not here. She began to 
prepare for the long swim back to the river.


34 - The Devils Sing
As lines so loves oblique may well Themselves in every 
angle greet: But ours so truly parallel Though infinite, can 
never meet.
Andrew Marvell, 'The Definition of Love' (1681)


Carlos paused on the far side of a glen. The bees had dis-
appeared into the trees, and there was nothing to do until 
he spotted another one.
Katya offered him a drink from her canteen. They 
leaned against the tree together. 'Let's rest here for a 
minute. We'll catch the next bee that comes along. '
'You know, ' Carlos said carefully, 'I really wasn't sur-
prised that you wanted to come over here. Considering 
that Mr Justin was here. '
She laughed.
'Yes. That's what I thought. ' He paused for a moment, 
and Katya leapt into the breach.
'You know, ' she said, 'Justin's great, but there's some-
thing missing. '
'And what is that?'
She shrugged. 'I'm not sure. But sometimes I think that 
all of the freedom we have has made us too blase. I... ' 
She shook her head. 'I don't want to sound too retro. '
Carlos' brown eyes softened. 'You know, sometimes I 
forget that you are a woman. '


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'Well, thanks a lot. '
'No. I mean I forget that you're grown. It is impossible 
ever to forget that you are female. '
She brushed a hand through her hair, shaking out a 
magnificently leonine mane. 'Really?' She seemed cau-
tiously pleased.
'Do you realize that this is the longest period of time 
that we've ever been apart?'
She nodded. 'Have I changed much?'
'No. Not really. But when I think of you I envision a 
little girl chasing after me, trying to get my attention. If I 
see you every day, it doesn't really hit me how wrong that 
image is. But after months... well, the contrast jars a 
little. '
'I hope you like it. '
'I love it. Love you. You're everything that I might have 
hoped for in a daughter. '
She took his hand. 'Is something bothering you?'
He sighed. 'I don't know. Maybe I grow more conser-
vative with age. I was always the camp rake. I had my 
pick of the women here - whether they were married or 
not. '
'I'm shocked. '
'Naturally. It's just one of those things that is true -
women have never been difficult for me. Sex has always 
been natural and comfortable. There was never a lot of 
moral or spiritual baggage attached to it. '
'Just a natural human function? That's what you 
always taught me. '
'But understand - we came from a culture in which 
human beings have been limited in their sexual expression 
for thousands of years. The aftermath of a terrible sexual 
plague left Earth even more conservative. And when we 
finally came out of that time there was a general celebra-
tion, a rejection of much of what had gone before. '


'Sounds a lot like Avalon. '
'No. It wasn't. Because remember that European cul-
ture's underpinning was a guilt-ridden vision of sexuality. 
Perhaps the 22nd century's hedonism was a healthy reaction 
to that conservatism - but the truth lies somewhere 
between the extremes. '
'Meaning?'
'It may be something is lost when all of the restraints 
are thrown away. '
'Are we moralizing here?' she teased. 'Carlos? The 
great seducer himself?'
'I'm not talking about right and wrong. I'm asking 
What works best? People are lonely, sweetheart. And 
afraid. And will do anything to fill that loneliness - for a 
minute, an hour, a lifetime. Sex is probably the very best 
way to feel... how would you say?... not alone. '
'Sometimes, ' she admitted. 'There are other times when it 
can make things worse. '
He nodded his head. 'I've had a long time to think 
about this. I think that each stage in a relationship has a 
different level of communication. In the beginning, both 
lovers are cautious, and learn about each other gradually. 
They share memories, take each other to favourite places, 
and slowly begin to touch. As they get more intimate, 
they communicate faster and more intensely. '
'Sex is probably the ultimate, ' Katya said. 'All the 
senses are engaged at the same time-'
'If you do it right. '
'I'm your daughter. You expect something less?'
'Touche. What I'm saying is that two people eating dinner 
together can exchange virtually no information, and feel 
that their interaction was complete. Narrow-bandwidth 
communication. But sex is so intense that it seems that it 
just has to mean something. It feels as if you just learned 
profound and complex things about your lover. '


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491
 


She nodded. 'We lie to ourselves about how well we 
know each other. '
'Too often, we try desperately to believe that this other 
person is the missing part of ourselves - even if only for 
the night. Maybe it isn't love, but... how about... 
friendship? Caring? Compassion?'
'Let's say I agree with you, ' Katya said. 'I'm still not 
sure where you're heading. '
'I think I've always known that the ideal of sexual 
chastity was just absurd. It seemed to go against nature. 
Why give a young man his greatest sex drive at fifteen 
and tell him he can't indulge it until he's twenty? Clearly, 
this wasn't nature - it was harnessing a stallion to a 
plough. On the other hand, you can't just rut at will, 
either. Back on Earth, it led to so much unwanted preg-
nancy and disease and disruption that it fit the image of a 
mortal sin. '
'Women aren't men, ' Katya said. 'We see - feel - things 
differently. And we want more. Here on Avalon we've 
been free to do everything we wanted-'
'Was it enough?'
'I don't know. We thought so, but-'
He nodded. 'Did you want more of a courtship ritual?'
'Something like that. Everyone knows what everyone 
else's body looks like. Everyone talks about what everyone 
else is like in bed. There might be anticipation, but there 
isn't much mystery. '
'And you want that?'
'Part of me does. Just a part, I think, but that part feels 
hungry. '
'What would you like with Justin?'
'You know, there is something, but I don't quite have 
words for it. We've known each other all our lives. 
Sometimes we've been lovers, and sometimes not. Some-
times we haven't even been friends... '


'And now?'
'I don't know. Maybe it's just the discovery of a new 
land and all of that. But the only way to take this land is 
with children. '
'That's the way we felt, a long time ago, ' Carlos said. 'I 
think that we lost a little of that as soon as it became 
clear that the birth rate was going to be sufficient. 
But... on a place like this, so wide and broad, I'm not 
surprised. '
'Something inside me just decided that Justin is the 
one. '
Carlos let Katya take whatever time she needed to find 
the right words.
'Some little switch turned on by itself, ' she continued. 'I 
thought that I had everything that I wanted, both freedom 
and security. But it turns out that I want something else. I 
want someone who belongs to me. '
She looked up sheepishly. 'Is that selfish? Is that petty?'
Carlos squeezed her hand. 'No. It used to be what 
everybody wanted. Then we talked ourselves out of it. 
Maybe we're just rediscovering how much of that is in our 
basic natures. I've never been one to fight against my 
urges. Neither should you. '
She grinned and squeezed his hand. Suddenly she jerked 
her head around, eyes darting as if tracking something 
invisible.
'What is it?' Carlos asked.
'Two bees, ' she said. 'Moving like bullets. '
Carlos adjusted his war specs until he saw two flashes. 
They're going right across that valley, ' he said. 'And over 
the next ridge. ' He estimated the distance. 'Too far for 
today. Let's go back. We can start in the morning. '
Til get Justin to pick us up, ' Katya said. She thumbed 
her comcard. 'Justin-'
The computer answered. 'Justin and Jessica have


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493
 


landed in a meadow and are temporarily out of commu-
nications, ' Cassandra said.
'Are they all right?'
'I have detected no cause for alarm, ' the computer said 
primly.
Jessica lunged backward, trying to rip herself free of the 
entangling web.
The forest was all deep shadow, vines and webbing 
strung among horsemane trees. In the shadow above him 
Justin caught a face like a snarling monkey, then the com-
pact torso and long, long limbs that went with it. The 
beast wasn't moving. It was singing.
And Justin had dropped his pack, and with it his tracer, 
his knife, and all his weapons. It would take a minute to 
run back to get them, and in a minute the creatures would 
be on her.
Jessica's face was turned away from the web, she had 
managed to get enough leverage to turn her head. 'Justin! I 
can see four of them. They're just big Joeys... ' Her voice 
died.
Little snarling faces. They sang with their mouths 
open... sang way back in their throats. Big Chaka had 
examined several spider demon bodies. Their song would 
have been perfect for slow dancing. Justin could make 
out hideous shadows moving into place around Jessica. 
One tapped along the web, crawling down toward Jessica.
Justin scooped up two rocks. His first missed entirely. 
His second struck one of the creatures, and it scuttled 
back up into the trees. But two others were crawling cau-
tiously down, testing their footing every step of the way.
Damn, damn, damn. He and Jessica must be larger 
than anything the Joey-things ordinarily hunted, but 
would size alone keep them away?


Jessica screamed at them. They retreated for a moment, 
then started down the vine again. 'Justin, ' she said, her 
voice deadly calm. 'They're not scared of us. They're coming 
back down. Not a whole lot of doubt about that. '
Justin pried at a nearby branch. Dammit, it was more 
vine than branch, and entirely too pliable. He tugged at it, 
and it just bent. It could have held his weight.
He was desperate. The loam underfoot was thick and 
soft, years of fallen leaves had decomposed to make the 
rich compost. No weapons there. He was naked, dammit.
Freezing hell! The first time in his life that he let lust 
overwhelm him and this happens?
He went to Jessica, who had managed to pry her face 
an inch or two away from the web. 'I think, ' she said. 'I 
think that maybe I can get out of this. '
Justin tugged a rock out of the ground, and touched it to 
the web. He pulled. The mucilage was horribly strong. The 
spider demons were centimetres closer, and the lullaby was 
calming him against his will. If he had the radio, just the 
radio, he'd turn it on high and play them some old Riot 
Rap-
'Listen to me!' she said harshly, almost a whiplash. 
'You have to go back for the grendel guns. I can keep 
them away that long. '
He had a sudden, horrific vision of the piglet, and the 
spidery things which injected it with venom, and then tore it 
to pieces.
'The hell I will. '
'Justin!'
'The instant I go, they'll be all over you, ' he said. 'We 
can barely keep them away with the two of us. ' And the 
wordless music was pulling him down to fatalistic despair.
Her breath was heavier now. 'Well - it's the only 
chance we have. I can't break the glue. '
'Sing!' Justin commanded.


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495
 


'Sing? Sing what?'
'Anything! "For the beauty of our land, for the beauty 
of the skies. ""
It was a children's song they'd learned in school. Jessica 
joined him. '"for the love which from our birth, Over and 
around us lies-'"
The lullaby wavered, warbled out of tune and faltered. 
Encroaching spider demons backed away. This was some-
thing new. 'It works! I can keep them off, ' Jessica said. 
'Get the guns!'
'It won't hold them. "Source of all, to thee we raise. 
This our hymn of grateful praise-'" Justin's mind ran 
feverishly. 'Wait a minute, ' he said. 'Let's just wait a 
minute. Look at this stuff. Remember what Chaka said? 
This isn't made from their own bodies. It's a patchwork, 
and the foundation is leaves. Chewed leaves. They spread 
this mucilage on top of it. And everything that they catch in 
here must struggle, so they have to keep patching it. '
'So what?'
'So Chaka said they're at the mercy of their building 
materials. The web is no stronger than the plant material 
underneath it. '
'How does that help... ? Never mind, ' she said. 'If 
you've got an idea, you'd better use it fast. "For the beauty 
of each hour, Of the day and of the night, Hill and vale 
and tree and flower, Sun and moon and stars of light-"'
The spider devils crawled toward them. Their hum-
ming changed. 'They're keeping harmony with us!' Jessica 
shouted.
'Change the tune! "The knight came home from the 
quest! Muddied and sore he came. Battered of shield and 
crest. Bannerless, bruised and lame!"''
'That's a cheerful one!'
'Sing, damn it! "Here is my lance to mend. Here is my 
horse to be shot! Aye they were strong, The battle was


long But I paid as good as I got!"' Justin tugged at the vine.
'I don't remember the words!'
'"My wounds are noised abroad. Theirs my foemen 
cloak. You see my broken sword, But never the blades 
that she broke!"'
Justin returned to the vine he had been unable to break, 
and examined it soberly. 'I hope to God that you're as 
strong as you look, ' he said. It was five times thicker than 
any of the vines used in the web itself. How old were the 
web's supporting fibres? How long had they been in 
place? What was the average size and weight of the ani-
mals these creatures fed upon?
He wrapped both arms around the vine, and set his 
weight, pulling it toward the web.
The spider devils changed their tune again.
'Hurry!' she screamed. She tossed her whole body vio-
lently, and for an instant the spider devil scampered back up 
into the shadows. '"Here is my lance to mend! Here is my 
horse to be shot! Aye they were strong, The battle was 
long, But I paid as good as I got!"'
With an effort that wracked her spine, she turned to see 
Justin pulling the branch after him, forcing it to bend a 
few centimetres at a time. The soil provided little traction, 
taxing Justin's knotted, wiry body to breaking point. He 
grunted and pulled, lost ground, pulled again, and 
couldn't quite make it reach.
Jessica sobbed. 'No use! Get the-'
And then - insanity. Justin braced himself on one foot, 
and took his left foot and reached up, jammed it between 
the strands of the web.
'Are you crazy?
'Fuck, yes, ' he gasped. Using the left foot, the stuck 
foot, for a brace, he jumped up with the right and 
jammed it through likewise. He was now suspended


497
496
 


almost parallel to the ground, holding onto the vines with 
his arms, his feet entwined in the web. Think about it!' he 
gasped. 'We've probably got five times more stress on this 
web than it was ever meant to hold. Fight, dammit! We 
can tear this thing apart!'
Jessica was certain he had lost his mind. There was 
nothing to do but match his insanity. '"O, / am a cook, and 
a captain bold, and the mate of the Nancy brig-"'
"''And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, and the crew of 
the captain's gig!"' Justin continued.
Her leg. One leg was almost free of the web - it had 
never collided. She pulled herself back, and the whole 
jury-rigged mass shifted. She ignored the chittering sound 
from the trees. Something scampered down, darted at her 
with open jaws. She lurched violently and shivered the 
web. The spider devil retreated half a metre. '"O elderly 
man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And 
I'll eat my hand if I understand How you can possibly 
be-'"
She stretched out desperately with her leg, but couldn't 
reach Justin's vine. Too late, she saw the second spider 
devil. It crawled down from Justin's side and bit his thigh.
He screamed, cursed, convulsed so violently that for a 
moment she thought he would rip himself free. No such 
luck, but the monster scuttled back up to safety.
Justin groaned, and his eyes rolled up in his head. His 
face was dark with effort, and blood drooled from the leg 
wound.
'Justin!' Jessica screamed, but was distracted by a pain 
in her hand. A bite, and a spider demon vanishing into 
shadow. Flaming agony spreading up her arm.
Pain and mortal fear gave her what muscular strength 
could not. Or maybe Justin's struggles had finally pulled 
the branch close enough. Jessica contorted, and hooked 
her leg over the branch.


The two of them, together, pulled now. Justin's mad 
eyes met hers, and he swallowed. 'Come on, Jessica. One, 
two three - pull! "Says he, dear James, to murder me, 
Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you 
can't cook me, And I can - and I will - cook you!"'
They heaved with every gram of strength they pos-
sessed, screaming verses to send the spider monkeys 
scurrying back up into the trees momentarily. But now the 
entire nest had awakened. Five more spider demons, curious, 
worried perhaps, crawled back out of the shadows. They 
descended delicately along the ropy, gummy vines. They'd 
already picked up the tune of the Ballad of the Nancy Bell.
'"For the joy of human love! Brother, sister, parent, 
child, Friends on Earth and friends above, For all gentle 
thoughts and mild-'"
'"Source of all-"' Jessica stopped singing as the devils 
joined in harmony.
Justin screamed as another monster bit him, and she 
barely jerked her face aside as a pair of jaws clacked shut a 
centimetre from her cheek.
'Heave!' he screamed, and they did, both of them, and 
the vine creaked, and their spines creaked, and the web 
creaked-
The web ripped. They pulled on the vine and a big 
piece of web came down. Old bones tumbled out from 
somewhere above.
'"To thee we raise, This our hymn of grateful praise!"'
The spider devils shrieked and clambered over one 
another to get back up into the trees. The web was coming 
apart rapidly now. More of the vines began to break. Now 
they were supported by the mucilage alone, and that wasn't 
strong enough. Justin hit the ground on the side of his 
head. Jessica ripped half-free, and screamed with


498
499
 


laughter as a big chunk of web came with her. Her arm 
and both legs were free, and she had the leverage to pull 
the other arm clear of the main web. A huge patch of 
gummy vines still covered her. She turned and tugged at 
Justin's legs until she had them free, and dragged him 
back away from the vines. His legs were swelling, black 
and red. Her arm was swollen too, and numb.
'Justin, ' she said. 'Are you all right?'
'I think I can walk. '
He stumbled a couple of paces, and Jessica put her 
arms around him, helping him back to the water. She 
snatched up a comlink. 'Cassandra, ' she called. 'We've 
been bitten by spider devils. Need medical attention fast. '
Justin's hands shook as he pulled his shirt on. He tried 
to get his pants on. When his hands touched the bruised 
flesh of his thighs, he howled, and had to abandon the 
attempt.
She studied his eyes. No dilation. The swelling didn't 
seem to be any worse, but that told her little.
'We're about ten minutes away, ' Little Chaka's voice 
said. 'Was this the same type of spider we captured on the 
march?'
'Appears to be, ' she said.
'Then it should be no problem. Use antibiotic paste. 
The bites aren't lethal. Even the paralytic effect isn't that 
strong. They need a whole colony to subdue something 
maybe twice their size. How many bites?'
'Justin took two, maybe three. '
'All right. Keep him warm. We'll be there in two 
shakes. '
Jessica unrolled a blanket from her backpack and 
wrapped Justin in it. His teeth chattered. 'I'm not going to 
die, huh?'
'Only if you pull another stupid stunt like that, ' she 
said.


'You. How are you?'
She held his face with both of her hands. 'Have I ever 
told you, ' she said, 'that I love you?' And she kissed him, 
very softly. Then the venom hit and she started to shake. 
She let go of him before he could notice.


501
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35 - Autopsy
Deduction is, or ought to be, an exact science, 
and should be treated in the same cold and 
unemotional manner.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four
(1890)
Justin limped into the recreation hall and received a brief 
round of applause and a kiss from Jessica. It was sisterly, 
not at all like the kiss they had shared less than three 
hours before, but a sparkle in her eyes told him that she 
hadn't forgotten.
Katya took his arm and hugged him. 'I hope that your 
backside is healing. '
'You have plans for that?'
'Indeed. ' She did not look at Jessica.
'So just what did happen?' Cadmann demanded. 'How 
did you get caught by spider devils without communica-
tions?'
Justin shook his head. 'Duh. We'd been swimming, got 
in a race, and weren't looking where we were going. Just 
horseplay. '
'It's not a grendel zone, ' Jessica said. 'That's a safe 
area-'
'No longer, ' Aaron said. 'Chaka, we saw a grendel in 
the north lake. A grendel. '


Little Chaka looked puzzled. 'How did a grendel get 
there?'
'And well may you ask. ' Aaron's voice was icily cor-
rect. 'As I recall, you were the one who assured us a 
grendel could never get into that lake. '
'I did, ' Chaka admitted. 'And I still don't know how. 
What happened?'
Aaron started to tell him. Silence fell around him. As 
his hands waved and his voice rose and fell, Justin found 
himself grinning. Cadmann Weyland, face to face with a 
grendel... but the danger was as nothing next to Aaron's 
massive embarrassment.
Aaron broke off. 'Well, however it got there, the whole 
area has to be reclassified as grendel country. New rules 
for visiting it. In effect now. Everyone agree?'
There was a murmur of approval.
'That may not be the only surprise today, ' Big Chaka 
said.
Cadmann turned to him with a frown. 'Good news or 
bad news?'
'Listen and decide for yourself, ' Chaka said enigmati-
cally.
'Yes, well, we should get started, ' Aaron said. 'Hell of a 
thing about those spider devils, Justin. Hell of a thing. ' 
His expression was unreadable.
Cadmann hugged Justin and Jessica, and 'they sat 
together, the five of them: Cadmann, Sylvia, Jessica... 
just like a family again... but Aaron sat on the other side of 
Jessica.
What would have happened if the web hadn't inter-
rupted them? What did he want to happen?
'We're ready when you are, Dr Mubutu, ' Aaron said.
The room fell quiet. Justin grinned as he noted 
another table. Big Chaka, Little Chaka, Trish Chance, 
Edgar Sikes, Ruth Moskowitz. Interesting family


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502
 


grouping there - and then Big Chaka climbed up to the 
holostage.
He said, his voice resonant and musical, in teacher 
mode, 'There is much to cover, but let's begin with gren-
dels. You have all seen that grendels on this continent, 
especially in this area, don't act the way grendels did on 
Camelot Island. There was the incident today, Aaron- a 
grendel that did not attack you on sight. There are the 
dam builders, who certainly cooperate. And the snow 
grendels, who seem to hunt as a pack. And your other 
reports. I have examined every mainland grendel obser-
vation Cassandra knows of, and I can only conclude that 
mainland grendels are not the mindless killers our experi-
ences on Camelot suggested. Grendels here - some of 
them, at least - cooperate on dams and hunt in groups. 
They show a rudimentary sense of planning. Possibly 
time-binding - that is, they pass on knowledge to the next 
generation.
'The obvious conclusion is that mainland grendels are 
considerably more intelligent than our island grendels 
were. If Camelot "normal" grendels have the intelligence 
of an Earth tiger, think of those here as tigers with the 
intelligence of an orangutan. '
Aaron nodded slowly. 'Frightening, but no more than 
we here had concluded, right?' He looked around the 
room and got approving nods from many of the Second.
'Dragons, ' Sylvia Weyland muttered.
'Dragons, ' Cadmann repeated. 'Chaka, an intelligent 
grendel is the worst thing I can think of. '
'Maybe not, ' Big Chaka said. 'First, though, a theory. 
Here is a Camelot grendel. Cassandra, my file, Grade 
Eight Test Twenty-four, please. '
Laughter rippled among the Second. Grade Eight Test 
Twenty-four in Big Chaka's biology class was very familiar 
to them. The beast floated before them, a composite of


many grendels the First had examined after they were 
torn, charred, and otherwise mangled. This was no holo 
of a dead beast, but a mere cartoon.
As Chaka's hands moved, so moved a white arrow-
head floating in midair: the cursor. The Camelot grendel 
opened like a puzzle box. The view zoomed in on the 
grendel's big blunt head. The head opened.
The sinuses were large: a grendel's head was half-
hollow. The brain showed convolutions shallower than 
those of a human brain. There was no corpus callosum 
connecting left and right lobes; in fact, the grendel brain 
had no lobes. It was more of a doughnut, and the snorkel 
ran right through it, sliding freely in its own channel.
'Now for a mainland grendel. Cassandra, my dissection 
file, Composite One. This shows features common to the 
snow grendels we examined. '
Cassandra had painted parts of the corpse with a lavender 
tinge.
'We had to guess at some features due to the damage 
done when the grendels were killed. But there's enough. ' 
The snow grendel was longer than the Camelot grendel 
and about as thick. Its claws were bigger, with two dew-
claws that faced forward. Big Chaka pointed those out 
with the cursor. 'Brakes. ' He indicated the tail and the 
downward-hooked barbs. 'More brakes. If you're going to 
run at two hundred kilometres an hour on ice, you need 
that. Trivial stuff, but now note the ventral surface. 
There's almost no belly armour. What's left are these four 
head-to-tail ridges, more skis than protection. '
Aaron interrupted: the student asserting his freedom. 'I 
get it. The thing expects to squat in snow and lose heat 
through the belly. '
'That's what we think, but notice that it can't rear up 
to fight. Got to charge like a tank, with its head lowered, 
and butt. ' The cursor outlined the misshapen head. 'More


504
505
 


armour. Like a ram. It'd work better if the head hadn't 
been distorted. '
That head was no cartoon. This was the hologram of a 
dead grendel's head.
Cadmann again. 'Chaka, were they all lopsided like 
that?'
'We're lucky to have any kind of answer, the way our 
kids tore through these things. My son was much embar-
rassed. '
Little Chaka said, 'I brought back some pieces of skull, 
but they aren't big enough to tell. Maybe they're distorted 
too-'
'But there was enough, ' his father said. 'Quite enough. ' 
The skull opened: a bloody puzzle box.
The head was half-hollow, as with the Camelot grendel. 
The right side of the brain was grossly swollen. On that 
side the sinuses were shrunken and the skull ballooned 
out. There were thin spots in the massive bone.
Near the root of the brain on the right side, in the 
midst of the convoluted mass of grey tissue there was a 
tangle of... worms.
Unmistakable.
'Parasites, ' Justin murmured. 'Flukes. '
'We've already found six kinds of parasites. Four are 
types that infest samlon too. Our Grendel Scouts are 
familiar with those, ' Little Chaka said. 'Dad-'
'Yes. This is the interesting one. It has caused localized 
swelling, and some changes in brain chemistry. We're still 
working on those. We've already established that there are 
abnormal levels of the grendel analogue of acetylcholines 
present. Now look here. ' The light pointer wavered on an 
area far from the fluke. 'Notice the dendrite structure 
here. Very dense. Nothing like what you find in unin-
fected grendels. And there. Here's an uninfected grendel 
for comparison. '


The contrast was dramatic. Where the first grendel 
brain had a complex web of tissue connecting different 
parts of the brain, the other was bare.
'Good Lord, ' Sylvia said. 'I should have noticed - look 
at the bare one there. Doesn't it look as if that structure 
there was just made to have something wrap around it? 
Chaka, is that possible?'
'Is co-evolution possible? Of course. '
Katya giggled. 'Could that fluke be, well, a fluked
'It could be, but I doubt that. We have examined three 
other parasitized grendels, and have found similar changes in 
them. '
'And these are grendels which behaved abnormally?' 
Cadmann asked.
Chaka nodded. 'We believe that the parasite might be 
interacting in a symbiotic manner, stimulating brain 
growth, promoting a higher order of intelligence. It's not 
an unmixed blessing, though. One of those grendels must 
have been dying. The brain case was filled and the skull 
was being torn apart from internal pressure. '
'So they have to be infected young?' Cadmann said.
'Just so, when the skull is still soft, still growing. '
'Co-evolution, ' Sylvia said. 'Tens of thousands of 
years-'
'Or longer. '
'Or longer. We never found any of those flukes in 
island grendels. Did we? Cassandra, grendel history. Gross 
anatomy. Abnormalities in brain structures of island gren-
dels?'
'One with what appeared to be cancerous growth. 
Nothing else, ' the computer said.
'So, no flukes on Camelot, ' Sylvia said. 'Are they com-
mon over here?'
Big Chaka waved again and the river fork appeared in 
relief. 'Here, ' Big Chaka said, holding his voice steady


506
507
 


against age. The beaver grendels. They're not hunters. 
They're fisherfolk. They're also cooperative, and a lot 
more intelligent than the grendels on Camelot were. That 
much is certain. ' He paused, and smiled thinly. 'And this 
afternoon we found the same parasites in their waters. ' He 
displayed the image. The parasites were flattened ovals, 
something like a tapeworm. A ruler appeared beside one 
of the flukes: ten centimetres.
'The waters north of here swarm with them. We don't 
know what this means. Maybe something very bad. 
Maybe good. An intelligent grendel might learn that 
attacking humans means death. Such creatures can be 
taught. An intelligent grendel is also one which can 
travel further from its home waters without burning to 
death. '
'Every silver lining has a cloud... ' someone said.
'We will continue to look into this as we evaluate your 
new data. '
'What about the bees?' Aaron called. 'You said earlier 
today this might involve bees. I've been wondering how?'
'Patience, ' Chaka said. 'I'm only now forming a theory. 
Note we have an abnormal grendel. We thought we 
understood grendels. It turns out we don't. '
The cursor flicked, and the dissected grendel disap-
peared. Instead they were looking at a delta-wing crab 
twice as large as a watermelon: a magnified Avalon bee.
Big Chaka said, 'Now, the bees are a problem of an 
entirely different order. They aren't really bees, of course. 
They're a flying version of the Avalon crab. They are 
highly organized. Some varieties are carnivorous. '
Sylvia exclaimed, 'Oh, don't tell us they're parasitized 
too!'
Chaka Senior smiled thinly. 'No. I wouldn't do that. 
But they certainly have a level of organization that 
wouldn't embarrass any terrestrial bee colony. And that


may be enough. Intelligence need not be the product of a 
single brain. A colony can behave intelligently. '
He paused for a moment. 'Indeed, in many ways you 
and I are colonies of dissimilar cells, and our - minds -
may be the products of a number of independent actors. 
So may it be with infected grendels - and with bee 
colonies as well. '
'Minsky, ' Little Chaka muttered. 'A society of minds. '
'You said a problem of a different order, ' Cadmann 
said. 'What did you mean?'
'I think it is now clear that these are the creatures which 
killed Joe Sikes and Linda Weyland. '
There was a general murmur, and Justin saw Edgar 
Sikes' head come up. Edgar's fingernails must have been 
digging holes in the wooden table.
'Please explain, ' Cadmann said.
'Look at this, ' Little Chaka said, and the cursor danced 
over the image. It didn't look like a terrestrial bee at all. 'A 
tough shell that sprouts fixed wings for gliding. Motor 
wings aft. The forelimbs are modified as claws. The key 
was my son's recording of this activity. ' The cursor moved 
again, and now there were animated holograms of a 
swarm of the bee-like creatures feeding on a dead grendel. 
With the grendel to give perspective they could now see 
that the 'bees' were actually the size of Sylvia's palm, 
plum-sized, five to seven centimetres across: much bigger 
than the thumb-sized leaf cutters around Paradise. 'They 
scavenge on grendels. '
'So?'
'So... so if a grendel dies, burns itself up with speed, it 
isn't going to completely expend the oxidizer. The scavenger 
which eats grendels is going to have to develop a 
mechanism for metabolizing speed. '
'Good lord, ' Sylvia said.
Big Chaka slipped his glasses off, and polished them


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508
 


carefully. 'What we think is that the bees... or whatever 
we decide to call them, are an order of necrophagous flying 
pseudocrustacea. They like grendels for food, and either 
scavenge them or trap and kill a grendel who can't get to 
water. Further, I believe that they've done it for millions of 
years, long enough to have evolved a means either to 
produce speed themselves or to store it. Store it and use it. '
'Bees on speed, ' Cadmann said slowly. 'Carnivorous 
bees on speed. Christ on a crutch. '
'What in hell is a bee?' Hal Preston asked.
'Come on, you know, ' Katya said. 'There are hives of 
them out by the berry farms. Bees, you know, they fly and if 
you get too close to the hive they sting? You need them to 
fertilize fruit trees-'
'Here!' Edgar Sikes cut in impatiently. Among the holo-
grams around Big Chaka appeared another: a terrestrial 
flying insect as big as a dog. 'Doctor Chaka, you had to 
have some reason for calling them bees? And it sure 
wasn't the way they're built. '
'No, it was the way they build, ' Big Chaka said. 
'Earthly bees make elaborate nests. They collect nectar 
from local plants and use it to make stuff they can store. 
They're stratified into castes, with a queen to lay all the 
eggs, drones to fertilize her and myriads of workers. Well, 
we know that these Avalon bees are stratified, though we 
don't have details yet. We've only studied the leaf-eating 
bees, but their nests are like underground cities. Edgar, 
they even have the bee trick of using antibiotics. Do you 
remember that?'
Trish touched Edgar's elbow; he bit back a venomous 
answer. ' 'Fraid not, Doctor. '
'Honey would rot if bees couldn't mix the nectar with 
an antibiotic. Some terrestrial bees even make their honey 
from carrion. Most Avalon bees make their honey from


leaves, but they have their own antibiotic, and, again, they 
can use it to preserve meat. '
Edgar sat down abruptly. He looked grey. He'd be seeing 
the same images that were running behind Justin's own 
eyes. Linda Weyland and Joe Sikes thrashing within a dark 
fog; red-and-white bones falling to the ground; a fading 
buzz-saw sound as the black fog blows clear. Ten 
thousand flecks of human flesh flow into the ground to 
become dark incorruptible pools of viscous fluid...
Whispered conversations buzzed around him. Justin 
noticed Jessica staring at the holograms, frowning at what 
she had heard. Then, tentatively, she raised her hand. 
'Chaka, if we assume that the bees have been around for, 
say, a million years... mightn't that explain what hap-
pened to our mining apparatus?'
The room was dead silent.
Aaron was the first to speak. 'Freeze me alive! You've 
hit it! Fossilized bees in the ore? The speed might act like 
flecks of dynamite under circumstances like that-'
Suddenly the entire room was vibrant with discussion. 
Aaron stood in the middle of it. 'I think that this is cause 
for celebration, ' he said.
'Why is that? These bees-'
'Don't you see? I think that we are entitled to an apol-
ogy. For months, one ugly question has hovered over the 
entire colony: who sabotaged the mines?
'And there was a second question: who or what killed 
Linda and Joe? Now we've answered both questions. The 
bees came through the pass - Cassandra, what were the 
weather conditions at Deadwood Pass when Joe and 
Linda were killed?'
'A hot dry sirocco wind blowing from the western high 
desert. '
'Sure, ' Aaron said. 'And that's what did it. The wind 
picked up a swarm, blew them across the desert and over


511
510
 


the pass. Linda and Joe had the bad fortune to be in the 
way. They were stripped to the bone in minutes by starv-
ing, disoriented necrophage bees. '
Sylvia looked devastated. 'We were so careful. '
'Careful to avoid the Avalon ecology rather than under-
stand it, ' Cadmann said. 'And that one falls right into my 
lap. I thought we could do it. I thought Deadwood Pass 
was safe. Oh, Lord!'
'What?'
'Eden Oasis. Just luck the wind didn't blow that way 
while it was full of Grendel Scouts! The worst of it is, I 
knew all along the only real safety was in understanding 
what we faced, and I didn't do anything about it. '
'I didn't want you killed by the dragon, ' Sylvia whis-
pered.
'We all thought the same thing, amigo, ' Carlos said. 
'We did. ' He gestured toward Aaron and the others. 'They 
had a different view. '
'But you do see the danger?' Big Chaka said carefully.
Aaron nodded. 'It's a real danger, but being eaten by 
bees is no worse than being stung to death by a colony of 
them back on Earth. Individually, they are probably pretty 
harmless, and anyway, they generally stay in the lowlands 
where we don't go. In some circumstance that we don't 
completely understand, they swarm and can reach high-
lands like Deadwood Pass. Fine. We will study them, and 
become aware of them. We can build shelters. And now, 
more than anything else we need to find out: why did 
Cadzie Weyland survive?'
There rose a buzz of speculation. Big Chaka cleared his 
throat. 'We need to learn more about bees. '
'So let's go on a bee hunt!' Carlos cried. 'Katya and I 
know where to start in the morning. '
'Not alone, though, ' Aaron said.
'We will not leave the safe area-'


'I'm afraid there is no safe area, ' Aaron said. 'Not since 
we saw the grendel this afternoon. Chaka, just how could a 
grendel be there?'
Little Chaka shook his head. 'I have no idea. I would 
have taken a mighty oath that there was, there could be, 
no grendel there. '
'Avalon Surprise, ' Sylvia said.


513
512
 


36 - Bee Hunt
Linnaeus, Carolus, 1707-78, Swedish botanist 
and taxonomist, considered the founder of the 
binomial system of nomenclature and the origi-
nator of modern scientific classification of plants 
and animals. In Systema naturae (1735) and 
Genera plantarum (1737) he presented his classi-
fication system, which remains the basis for 
modern taxonomy. His more than 180 works 
also include Species plantarum (1753), books on 
the flora of Lapland and Sweden, and the Genera 
morborum (1763), a classification of diseases.
Concise Columbia Encyclopedia
Cadmann watched the skeeters take off, then returned to 
the dining hall to rejoin Sylvia.
'Bees, ' he said. 'I can't get over it. We were so bloody 
careful! Divert the streams, build grendel-proof shelters. 
Satellite observations. Nothing could get to Deadwood 
Pass - how could we know a swarm of Avalon bees would 
blow over that pass?'
She reached across the table to take his hand. 'It wasn't 
your fault, you know. '
'The hell it wasn't. We had all the clues, explosions in 
the mines, and instead of coming over here to look for the 
real cause we wondered how the Pranksters could have 
done it. '
'More my fault than yours, then, ' Sylvia said. 'I'm the 
biologist. And I never guessed. Cadmann, stop blaming 
yourself. '


'Sure. '
The comlink chirped.
'Cadmann here. '
'Amigo, we have it. '
The nest?'
'A nest, certainly. '
'How big is it? How close are you?'
'I'm looking into a long valley, ' Carlos said. 'I'd see more 
from a peak - Cassandra, that peak - Cad, the valley runs 
northeast from here, with a meadow down the centre. The 
peak, call that Beehive Peak for reference, is at the 
southeast end, forty-three kilometres distant bearing 265 
degrees from Shangri-La. It's a long flat valley nestled in 
between ridges. There's a shallow stream. No indication of 
grendels. Let me say that again, no indication of grendels. '
'There wasn't any indication of grendels at the lake up 
there either, ' Cadmann muttered.
'/ have not forgotten that. The nest is below the peak. 
It's the size of a hill, a lumpy hill with no sharp edges to it, 
ten metres at the tallest. It's big, I make it ninety metres by a 
hundred and eighty. I'll make my way to the top of 
Beehive Peak and get a better measure, but it's big. Cad, it 
might not be the only nest. We've all converged on this 
valley, six search parties following bees, and we all ended 
here. '
'Compadre, that implies a lot of bees. '
'You know it, Colonel. '
'OK, we'll come look. ' He glanced at Aaron... but 
Aaron didn't try to interrupt, and this wouldn't be 
Cadmann Weyland's first siege. 'We need poison gas... 
wouldn't it be nice if they had a ton of cyanide sitting in a 
warehouse?'
'No cyanide, but we do have some good insecticides, ' 
Aaron said. 'You insisted. Remember? Do you think we 
will need them?'


515
514
 


'Probably not. Carlos, don't get too damn' close to that 
nest. Bees protect their hives, and Avalon bees have a similar 
lifestyle. '
'It's very likely they will, ' Sylvia said. 'There would be 
strong evolutionary pressure to do that. Carlos, he's right, 
be careful. '
'You know it. '
'Here, ' Carlos called. 'Follow the coffee smell. '
Carlos had a full campfire going, with long sticks poking 
out of it, and a coffeepot braced on the sticks. Pouring, he 
said, 'I thought I might want a torch handy. Those bees 
are like little flying firecrackers, don't you think? Your 
people used to celebrate the Fourth of July that way, before 
the Green laws got so anal-retentive. '
Cadmann sipped, looking down through war specs.
The bees were big enough to see as individuals, even 
from here, from a hundred and twenty metres away and 
uphill. There were thousands. The nest... hard to tell 
where it ended; the edges faded out into low bushes and 
tall swamp grass.
Magnify. 'There are several varieties, ' Cadmann said. 
'Most are under ten centimetres across, but there are larger 
ones too. '
'Possibly soldiers, ' Sylvia said. 'Terrestrial ants and 
termites develop lots of different forms. I never heard of 
bees doing that, but I don't suppose there's any reason they 
couldn't. ' She moved up beside him and adjusted her war 
specs. Then she shuddered. They don't look dangerous. '
'Even so, I would not care to go down there and dig up 
the nest, ' Carlos said.
Cadmann continued to study the valley. 'There doesn't 
seem to be much that's moving down there, ' he said. 
'Except for the bees. '


Aaron fished out his cpmlink. 'Aaron here. Who's on
duty?'
'Trish Chance. '
Trish, we need things to happen fast. '
'Gotcha:
'There are a lot of these things here. They don't look 
dangerous, but how would we know? Look to the arsenal. 
Flamethrowers need to be charged up. Think about any-
thing else we could use. And what skeeters do we have?' 
Aaron demanded.
'Three charged up. One out. It's been cloudy, and the 
batteries-'
'Right. OK, hang onto one for equipment. Cassandra, 
what small-mesh nets are available?'
'Four of the twenty-metre nets, one damaged. The others 
would not hold a creature of the size described. '
'Thank you. Trish, get somebody to bring out those 
nets. Cassandra, please keep available a current display of 
nest locations as they are reported. '
'Done. Ask for Netmap. '
'Netmap, please, ' Cadmann said.
His war specs dimmed, and when he looked out into 
space he could now see a projection of the valley. A blinking 
net of bright lines surrounded an irregular mass that 
looked vaguely like an African termite nest. Dimmer lines 
indicated areas where more nests were suspected.
'Thank you. Enough. '
The image faded. Aaron still asked questions and gave 
orders. Doing as well as I would, and he knows what's 
here. He'd have been a good officer back when we had 
wars.
Three skeeters rose from Shangri-La. A fourth, not yet in, 
would take off as soon as various factions could agree as 
to what should go aboard.


517
516
 


'I just want to be sure we learn everything we can from 
here, ' Cadmann said.
'We have to take it to the bees sometime, ' Aaron said.
'I know. Cassandra, is there any way we can get an 
ultrasound map of the inside of that thing? Before we 
open it up?'
Carlos said, 'Cadmann, I'll go off down the ridge if 
you'll give me the war specs. Give Cassandra a view from 
some other directions. '
Cadmann pulled the specs off his tired eyes and handed 
them over. 'Have you got a flashlight?'
'I have, ' Katya said.
Sylvia said, 'Want some company? Yes, Cadmann, I 
have a flashlight. '
As the three receded, Aaron said, 'They must find this 
stuff pretty dull. '
They hate arguments, Cadmann thought. 'I love it 
myself, ' he said. 'Planning a siege. Aaron-'
'I'd go in now. '
'I wouldn't even try to take out a wasps' nest at night. '
'They'll be torpid, ' Aaron said.
'We'll wait, ' Cadmann said.
Unsettling shadows fell through the valley. To Cadmann's 
tired eyes, the bees were no longer visible as bees, only as 
swirls of motion. There were more now, streaming back 
into their nest.
Pterodons, much bigger, still wheeled in sunlight. 
'Those must stick to the heights, ' Aaron speculated.
Sylvia said, 'And fall to the bees when they get old and 
sick. ' She shivered. Cadmann fished a windbreaker out of 
his pack and helped her into it.
Bigger pterodons yet were converging above. These 
pterodons had never seen skeeters, and the sight gave them 
fits. One skeeter wheeled off and began to circle the valley.


Three more followed each other down to Beehive Peak.
They unloaded tents and safety domes and crates of 
electronic gear, as well as tanks of insecticide. He watched a 
grinning fifteen-year-old lugging a box of thermite 
grenades. He was a little alarmed to see someone as young 
as Carey Lou this close to danger, but he kept his mouth 
shut. He'd just have to try to ensure that danger was kept to 
a minimum.
'Everybody carries a safety sack!' he bawled, and there 
were no disagreements. If Carey Lou dropped his for even a 
second, he would tan his hide!
His comlink card was talking: Trish. 'Dammit, I say we 
attack it tonight. They won't be as active. '
'You heard Colonel Weyland, ' Carlos said. 'We can't 
see well, we don't know what we're up against. It's insane 
not to wait for daylight-'
'All right. Let's say we wait for daylight, ' Evan 
Castenada said reasonably. 'What then? We don't have 
enough poison to take out one of those things. I think we 
should postpone the whole thing, go back and cook up 
about a hundred gallons of nerve gas-'
'We need to study them-'
'We'll study their corpses! These things killed Linda! 
And Joe-'
'Ah, I think-' Aaron tried to say.
Carey Lou broke in, his thin, reedy voice excited. 'Wait a 
minute. We learned it in school, we used Foo Foo gas on a 
grendel twenty years ago. Like napalm, right? We can hit 
'em with that, like in the movie Them. Drive 'em down into 
the nest, pump more in the top and just cook the 
sonsabitches!'
The group fell silent, awed by the purity of their 
youngest member's bloodlust. Aaron's face had darkened.
'We appreciate your sentiments, ' Cadmann said rea-
sonably. 'But try to watch the language. '


518
519
 


'Oh, yeah, ' he said sheepishly. 'Sorry. '
The last skeeter settled near the others. Little Chaka 
eeled out and turned to help Big Chaka. 'There is, ' said 
Big Chaka, 'definitely another nest at the north end of this 
valley. Maybe three or four. '
'Damn, ' Cadmann said. 'Cassandra, get together with 
the Chakas and make some maps. We don't want to rile 
more than one nest at a time. Trish, you still on? How 
close are we to having those nets? I want to look them 
over. '
'Listen, ' Big Chaka began. 'About your assault. Have 
you considered-'
'Freeze it. Consider this, ' Aaron snarled. He had a ther-
mite grenade in hand, and twisted it atop his grendel gun.
Cadmann said, 'Hey, kid-'
Aaron fired downslope.
His war specs spoke to Carlos in Cadmann's voice. 
'Carlos! Katya! Sylvia! Get back here fast! Get to the 
skeeters!'
'We're nearly back. What-'
Katya gaped down at the mound, her jaw dropping.
'Aaron fired an incendiary into the nest!'
'What? Why?'
Answer came there none. It was the kind of question 
that can cause strokes.
The beehive's peak erupted like a volcano. Puffs of 
flame, first, and then swarming points. Thousands of 
motes of fire streaked away like rapid-fire tracer bullets 
and exploded in tiny flashes.
Other parts of the mound erupted too. (Katya was 
sprinting, but Carlos couldn't do that and watch too. 
Cassandra's record depended on his war specs. ) The peak 
of the beehive was a hundred and twenty metres distant, 
but the hive had other exits, more showing every second


as fireballs followed by swarms of tracers. One source 
was only fifty metres downslope, and the next was closer 
yet.
The terror wasn't the flaming bees, Carlos realized. 
Those made a hell of a light show, dying in vengeance for 
Linda Weyland and Joe Sikes. Carlos shifted his war specs to 
infrared.
The firepuffs were almost blinding. But there they were, 
the bees that weren't burning, flying in all directions, tens 
of thousands of bits of redhot shrapnel looking for any 
enemy at all. A thousand abruptly converged in the air like 
an explosion in reverse, and that poor bloody pterodon 
wouldn't reach the ground as anything but bones.
Carlos broke into a run, watching his feet and to hell 
with Cassandra - there were cameras on the skeeters.
Aaron was grinning like a grendel. 'It didn't take all that 
diddling around! All it takes is one incendiary round per 
beehive! Flying firecrackers, Carlos said-'
Cadmann boosted Sylvia into one of the skeeters and 
pulled himself after. 'Start the motor on idle. '
'Trish, no problems?' Aaron laughed at his buzzing 
comlink card, Trish attempting to chew him out. 'Right. 
Cadmann, there's a time to just do something. There's 
another nest confirmed, right? So when we go after that 
one tomorrow, we'll know a lot more about beehives than 
we knew ten minutes ago. Here comes Katya. '
Beside Katya were both Chakas, looking madder than 
hell. Aaron's buoyant mood began to deflate.
Big Chaka's voice was tight and angry. 'What in the 
hell was that all about?'
Aaron explained. 'I was getting revenge for Linda and 
Joe, and killing about ten thousand dangerous animals. 
And I'm going to kill fifty thousand more tomorrow, 
right, Cadmann?'


520
521
 


Cadmann was watching the Chakas. 'I don't think they 
agree. '
Little Chaka looked at Aaron with open irritation. 'If 
this planet has taught us anything, it's the danger of mind-
lessly throwing an ecology out of balance. Under normal 
circumstances these things don't hurt human beings. But 
guess what? Two kilometres from the north end of this 
valley is a river. For twenty kilometres east and west, we 
have had unusually low grendel sightings. Doesn't that 
suggest something?'
Aaron looked as if he wanted to choke. 'Suggest what?
Little Chaka's voice was infuriatingly reasonable. 'I 
think that the show is over for the evening. Let's go back 
to Shangri-La. We can go bee-hunting again tomorrow, 
but this time, let's go to find things out. We can always 
kill them. '
'They're the enemy, ' Aaron said.
'They may well be, ' Big Chaka said. 'But they are also 
a largely unknown enemy. '
'What my father is saying, ' Little Chaka continued, 'is 
that we don't know enough, and until we do, leave the 
bees alone?
Aaron met Little Chaka's gaze for a blistering ten sec-
onds, then something shifted between them, and Aaron 
was the one to nod acquiescence. 'All right, ' he said 
finally. 'All right. '


37 - Thunder
The best of men cannot suspend their fate: The 
good die early, and the bad die late.
Daniel Defoe, Character of the Late Dr 
S. Annesley (1715)
Edgar looked up from his computer screen to find Trish 
glowering at him. He said, 'I take it you got my note. ' 
'Note. Yeah, note, I got your fucking note. ' 'Gotcha! Hey, 
I didn't intend it to make you that angry. I have to go back 
to the island. They need me. Ruth needs me
'Ruth Moskowitz is a lame. What has she got that can 
even hold your attention?'
'Trish, look up a name. Pygmalion. '
Trish sipped past the white foam on her cup. Toshiro 
had taught her calm. 'Who was Pygmalion?'
'Greek sculptor. Made a statue of a woman, then fell in 
love with her. The gods brought her to life to stop his 
whining. Trish, what did you see in a lame like me?'
'Power, dammit, Edgar! I saw you make a hurricane!'
'You were already in my pants. '
'Yeah. Well, Aaron needed you. Not just the hurricane, 
he needed you to shut up about how bad the weather was 
getting. Otherwise the Star Born might wait it out before 
they came back here. So he told me to distract you. '


522
523
 


'Distract, ' Edgar said.
'Well, I don't think he... hah. He'd dumped me for 
Jessica, but he never stops screwing any woman. I was 
ticked. How I distracted you was the last thing he 
expected. After Toshiro died, he kind of hinted that I 
could kind of let you alone. '
Edgar grinned. 'Do you mean to say we've been cheating 
on Aaron?'
'Yeah. Pygmalion, huh?'
'Yeah. You shaped me, Trish. Then you kind of lost 
interest because I didn't need you quite so much-'
'-And you'll drop Ruth!' Trish wrapped her hand 
around his wrist as he was about to speak. 'When you've 
really put her back together, you'll know it. You'll lose 
interest. Then come brag to me, Soft One. I may have 
sculpted some Scouts by then, but I'm always open to a 
brag. '
Perhaps a dozen pairs of human feet had passed this way 
before them: not enough actually to create a path, but 
enough for the broken twigs and turned earth to mark the 
way easily. Aaron or Little Chaka led, Cadmann in the 
middle or taking the rear.
Again, this was disorienting. How many times had he 
broken trail for these boys, while they tromped loyally 
behind? Too many to count.
He watched Chaka. The big shoulders, the broad hips 
worked steadily as they climbed the path. He felt perfectly 
comfortable with Little Chaka. He had seen Chaka angry, 
sad, happy... in the full spectrum of human emotion.
He watched Aaron more carefully. More carefully now 
than ever. Aaron was getting everything he had wanted.
True, it had cost Toshiro his life, and almost torn the 
colony apart, but Aaron had what he wanted. There was


something vastly self-satisfied and relaxed about him, similar 
to the attitude of a man who has just enjoyed really great 
sex. And for Aaron perhaps that analogy wasn't wholly 
inappropriate.
Aaron whistled tunelessly as he led. There was some-
thing about him, something not quite... connected to the 
ground that he trod. Above it all. That was Aaron. Above 
it all.
And in that moment, for reasons that Cadmann 
couldn't be quite certain of, he knew that Aaron had 
indeed seen all sides of the Robor incident before it ever 
happened. Knew that Aaron realized that death was the 
probable outcome. There was no way to prove it, but 
Aaron had used them all, all of the stresses, all of the 
arguments, all of the efforts.
From the very beginning, it wouldn't have mattered 
how things turned out. No matter what happened, Aaron 
Tragon was going to win.
Eventually Aaron's will and most secret plans would 
control the colony. The foundation of Camelot was the 
group effort of a hundred and seventy people, based on 
principles voted and designed before they ever left Earth. 
But here...
Like it or not, the entire colony would be the out-
growth of one man's personality. One increasingly 
disturbing man.
He watched Aaron. Step after step. As perfect as a 
machine. His body perfect. His mind as remote and inac-
cessible as the furthest misty peaks of Avalon.
By the time they stopped for lunch, Cadmann's mood - if 
that was what it was - had burned away with the early 
haze.
They sat on an overhang looking down on Shangri-La 
three hundred metres below and twenty kilometres distant.


524.
525
 


The domes and rectangles of the camp stretched out 
beneath him.
'Penny for your thoughts, ' Aaron said comfortably.
'I was thinking about the early days, ' Cadmann replied. 
'God, it seems so long ago now. '
Off in the distance, a pterodon swooped down after a 
birdie. The birdies were known to invade pterodon terri-
tory. Birdies were herbivorous and the pterodons 
carnivorous, but the birdies spoiled hunting, scared away 
prey. So mated pterodon pairs swooped and squawked, 
gained altitude and buzz-bombed the giant beetles, driving 
them away. The efforts were never effective beyond a day 
or so. Birdies were tenacious.
Aaron watched him, an indefinable sadness in his eyes. 
'What happened, Cadmann?' he said at last. 'I remember 
you, back in the old days. You were full of fire. You're not 
old. But you're starting to think you are. '
Cadmann laughed. 'Older than you think, boy. ' Aaron 
was right. There was something different about his atti-
tude. He was thinking of everything in the past. Looking 
back like... an old man. Christ. When had that happened?
'It was Robor, ' he said finally. 'It was getting there too 
late. It was killing Toshiro. '
Chaka tried to interrupt, but Cadmann shushed him. 
'I'm not interested in technicalities, Chaka. It shouldn't 
have happened. And it's also the physical pain. I hurt 
myself up there. I still feel it. I'm just not the man I used to 
be. '
Aaron gazed at him, and for a moment... just a 
moment, for the first time in Aaron's adult life Cadmann 
had the very distinct feeling that something had really reg-
istered in there. Something had been touched emotionally. 
There was no joy, no triumph in Aaron's face.
'I'm sorry about that, ' Aaron said. 'I never intended 
that to happen. '


/ may have intended to rip the colony apart. I may 
have intended to steal an invaluable piece of property. I 
may have not given a damn if one of my friends died - or 
you died, Cadmann.
But I never intended to break you. That I would not 
have done.
It was utterly strange how clear that voice rang in 
Cadmann's head. Strange how certain he was that the 
message passed from Aaron's mind to his. Strange. It was 
an apology of some kind. And, odder still, he found that 
he accepted it.
They studied each other for almost a minute, and then, 
hesitantly, almost shyly, Aaron smiled. Then he stood, 
and held his hand out to Cadmann. 'Come on, ' he said. 
'Let's keep moving. '
'If I don't, I'll stiffen up. ' Cadmann dusted his pants off. 
'Don't ever get old, Aaron. It's no fun at all. '
Til keep that in mind, ' Aaron said, and again, they 
both laughed.
The conversation ceased as they toiled up a mountain 
crest. Cadmann was beginning to enjoy himself. These 
kids were stronger and fitter, but he knew how to use 
what he had. Knew how to relax between steps, husband 
his resources.
They stood up at the crest for a few minutes, sipping 
water and breathing hard, looking down as if they were 
Titans bestriding the world. All of Avalon seemed 
stretched out beneath them. They might have been bal-
anced between worlds. To the east, grendel country and 
the forests and savannahs which would eventually be 
crisscrossed by the roads and cities of an expanding 
human empire. To the west, desert and terra incognita.
Who knew what existed out there? Sandworms on 
speed, maybe.


527
526
 


Directly below them now, a branching curl of river, a 
ribbon of blue down at the base of the mountains. 'We're 
going to a little valley we've spotted from Geographic and 
mapped by skeeter, ' Chaka said. 'Nobody's done it on 
foot, and we need to look around. There's running water, 
but we won't get close to it. '
'Grendels?'
'You bet. Lots of samlon. Last time though, it was 
fairly working with them. I think it's getting to be that 
time again. '
'Damned glad your bloody base camp isn't near run-
ning water. '
Aaron chuckled. 'No. You wouldn't have let us do that, 
Cadmann. The First would let us get away with almost 
anything at all, as long as we carry those great stinking 
stacks of Cadzie Blue blankets; but not that. And even 
when the weather changes, and the rivers swell, we're not 
likely to get grendels. Too far from the water. '
'Of course, if it's raining hard, that will cool them just 
as well. '
'This is true, ' Chaka admitted, 'but we've got our 
defences, and our shelters. And there are never any guar-
antees. '
'No, there aren't. I'm not even sure I wish there were. '
They descended the ridge, making their way down 
toward flatlands. A small valley was visible now, a ver-
dant crease. Chaka guided the conversation as they 
walked.
He pointed to the eastern horizon. 'Storm clouds?'
Chaka and Aaron studied the cloud patterns. The 
clouds were moving south, and unlikely to bring rain or 
grief to Shangri-La. But there had been small storms, little 
atmospheric disturbances, almost constantly for the past 
month. What was coming was coming faster, that much 
was sure.


'The weather's never been like this, ' Cadmann said.
Aaron said, 'I finally did get through to Surf's Up. 
Absolutely scoured by waves. They had to move all of 
the kids back to the colony. Most of the beach houses are 
gone. Mine too. There's nothing but foundations left. '
They talked broadly and companionably of weather and 
atmosphere, climate and crop conditions, blue skies and 
hailstorms, for almost an hour as they descended to a 
glade. Chaka pointed to an ancient, overgrown mound. 'I 
saw this from my skeeter. '
Cadmann approached it cautiously. 'Beehive?'
'Yes. I wasn't certain from the air, but it looked aban-
doned. Weathered. Maybe they migrate. Maybe they raid 
an area for everything it has, and then die out. I don't 
know. '
Aaron nudged it with his toe, thoughtful. The 
mucilaged earth tower crumbled a little. He pushed 
against it some more and a chunk of it broke off. 'It's 
brittle. Resistant to most weather, though. '
'How long abandoned?' Cadmann asked.
'A year or two?' Aaron said.
'Look! A cluster of Joey bones. ' Chaka was up in one 
of the trees, peering around.
Cadmann grunted and dropped his backpack, climbed 
three or four metres up the trunk, alarmed at how heavy 
and clumsy he felt.
A trio of little Joey skeletons greeted him. They were 
snugged between branch and bole, dead in their own nest.
'Definitely bee country, ' Cadmann said soberly.
They continued along, spotted several more abandoned 
bee nests and more caches of old skeletons. Often the 
bones lay as if carefully placed by some nit-picking archae-
ologist. Bees didn't leave enough on the bones for it to be 
worth any scavenger's time to drag them away.


528
529
 


They reached a lower shelf, even thicker with trees and 
brush and grass. Then took another steep decline, and 
reached another shelf.
And more bones.
It was Cadmann who first mentioned that the animal 
sounds had died away.
'You noticed it too?' Chaka asked. 'I was wondering if 
that was just my own morbid imagination. '
'No, it's not. ' Cadmann looked back at Aaron, trailing 
slightly to their left, a thoughtful expression on his face. 
Whatever he thought, he was keeping to himself.
The terrain was looking more and more... well, 
picked over. No pterodons. No birdies. No Joeys. 
Nothing. The back of Cadmann's neck itched.
'Look, ' Chaka said soberly.
Chaka pointed at a skeleton the size of a small deer, 
with short forelegs. It poked out of the ground. Chaka 
knelt and dug carefully with his knife, and unearthed the 
rest. Cadmann turned his head away.
This creature had died digging into the ground. Its head 
still remained, and its shoulders, a sort of monkey-looking 
thing with sharp paws. The attempt to claw its way into 
the ground had failed. The mummy was hollowed out, its 
mouth still open, clotted with dirt. Its eyes were open. 
Staring into its own grave.
Chaka made a blowing sound and stood, wiping his 
hands on his pants. He walked in a widening spiral, and 
found two more skeletons, of similar creatures which 
hadn't been as successful at burrowing. 'This is wrong, ' 
Chaka said. He walked to the ridge. Below them was 
another flattened area, and then a cliff. Distantly, they 
heard rushing water.
Cadmann said, 'Lovecraftian, maybe. What are you 
thinking?'
'Wrong. ' Chaka ran down the slope, digging in his


heels. He saw Aaron skid down after him. There was a 
tight, controlled expression on Aaron's face, one that 
Cadmann hadn't seen before. Some game was going on 
here, and he was one step behind the other players.
He scrambled down the next decline, using roots and 
rocks to steady and slow his descent. He watched, increas-
ingly disturbed, as Chaka poked about. This was a lushly 
wooded area, girdled with bushes and trees and grass. 
There were signs that it had been lusher still, but some of 
the vegetation had been badly chewed.
Except for the distant mournful skaw of a pterodon, it 
was just too damned quiet.
They found bones. Bones of creatures mouse-sized, 
rabbit-sized and one as big as a wolf.
Chaka pulled his belt knife and cut into the wolf-sized 
creature's rear legbone. He poked around in the dark interior. 
'Until we've got a better word, we can call this stuff 
marrow. This is still moist. I think that all of this death 
happened within the last seventy-two hours. '
Chaka pushed himself up and walked out to the edge of 
the cliff, looking out over the valley beneath. His face was 
deeply troubled.
'Weather's getting bad, ' he murmured, so low that 
Cadmann almost couldn't hear him.
Aaron had heard. 'True enough. '
'Ordinarily, the bees build nests, raze an area for maybe a 
decade, and then move on. Probably spawn a dozen 
queens each, or however they work it. But in times like 
this... '
'What?' Cadmann, asked. He was afraid he wasn't 
going to like the answer.
Chaka looked back at Aaron, standing only a few 
metres behind him, and he shrugged. 'The plains will 
flood. A lot of the nests will drown - no, they won't. The


530
531
 


bees will have water traps built into them, for sure. And as 
soon as the first water recedes the bees will migrate. 
Massively. Some of them are starting to expand westward 
now. See? The animals up here never evolved to deal with 
bees this way. A few Joeys are one thing - we're talking 
about the eradication of square kilometres of wildlife. It's 
been two hours since we've seen a single living animal, 
gentlemen. Those rain clouds? Those are the beginning. 
And the bees want the high ground. Probably this whole 
region belongs to them, every fifty years. Then the popu-
lation pressure drives them back to the lowlands. But 
when the rains hit... '
Aaron's voice was very flat. 'What?'
'The bees are spreading everywhere, breeding whole 
hordes of queens and seeding them on the wind. These 
are species that never evolved to deal with bees, because 
bees were never here. The grendels - I've figured that out. 
There are so many other animals breeding their hearts out 
that the grendels aren't eating any of their samlon, so 
they're all turning into grendels. Edgar's been raving about 
the weird weather. We've seen it. Those bees are getting 
ready for the winds to scatter them everywhere!'
Cadmann nodded. 'Sounds right. '
Little Chaka spoke very carefully. 'I have to tell father. 
Do you realize that we're going to have to evacuate the 
mainland? And I mean right now-'
Cadmann caught a motion out of the corner of his eye, 
and it was a fatal half-second before he realized what was 
happening. Aaron, incredibly, was unshouldering his rifle. 
Chaka's rifle was in his hands. He was raising it, even as 
Cadmann felt his mouth form the word: 'No!'
Chaka was closest to Aaron, and Aaron shot him first. 
The biologist had only begun to react when the bullet 
snapped his head back. Chaka's entire body straightened.


He tumbled back over the cliff, the entire left half of his 
face a wet red ruin.
Cadmann had already levelled his grendel gun as the 
sound of the first explosion hit his ears. Chaka had not yet 
fallen. As Cadmann fired, Aaron dropped to one knee. 
The grendel charge went over Aaron's head. Cadmann 
corrected his aim and fired again.
He had aimed for the centre of mass, and the centre of 
mass for Aaron Tragon was covered by the rifle. Aaron 
flew back, hands splaying, hair flying out with the electrical 
shock. His mouth spread in a wide 'O' as the dart released 
its charge. Aaron landed on his butt, a metre away. He 
shook himself like a big, sick dog.
Cadmann thumbed another dart into the breach and 
realized that it would take five seconds for it to charge. 
Grendel guns were backup weapons, used as part of a 
team effort.
Five seconds would be too late.
Chaka's gun. Cadmann dove for it, but Aaron was 
closer. Aaron screamed, scrambled up and dove, and both 
pairs of hands closed on it at the same time.
For a second they tugged at it, their faces only centi-
metres apart. Then Cadmann released it and swung his 
right fist, connecting with Aaron's jaw just below the ear. 
Aaron's head snapped back and his grip on the gun loos-
ened, but as he went back his right leg whipped around, 
and the foot connected with Cadmann's face. Cadmann 
lost control of the gun, and rolled back, screaming as his 
shoulder thumped against the ground. His bad shoulder. 
Shakily he got to his feet at the same time that Aaron did.
Aaron's hands were curled loosely, spread roughly 
shoulder-distance apart. Ready to chop or punch or grasp. 
His right shoulder was leading, about thirty per cent of his 
weight on the front foot.
Cadmann felt sad and tired and old. Christ. Of course.


533
532
 


Aaron would have been one of Toshiro's karate students. 
Probably his prize student, excelling at hand-to-hand combat 
as he did at everything else. Aaron was probably stronger 
than him, faster than him, fresher than him. Aaron would 
be dead in about twenty seconds.
Cadmann reached to his belt sheath and drew his Gerber 
Australian Bowie knife. Twenty-five centimetres of steel. 
He had carried it since Africa, a present from one of the 
NCOs he had lost in Mozambique. It felt heavy in his hand.
'Come on, boy, ' Cadmann said. 'Let's get it over with. '
Aaron looked at the knife, looked at Cadmann's face, 
and back at the knife. He dropped his hands. 'I... I can't 
fight you, ' he said.
'You don't have a lot of choice here, ' Cadmann hissed. 
He slid in a little closer. 'Why'd you do it, Aaron?'
'They would have listened to you. ' He held his wrists 
up, hands together. This boy was surrendering! What the 
hell was he supposed to do?
'They would have returned to. the island, ' Aaron said. 
'Everything would have been over. '
'That's no reason to kill. ' But in the back of his mind, 
a voice whispered: For Aaron Tragon, maybe it is.
'Kneel down, ' Cadmann said.
Aaron obeyed. His lower lip trembled. A single tear 
rolled down his cheek.
'Cross your ankles and sit on them. ' That was a satis-
factory unready position. 'Take off your belt. '
Aaron's hands went to his belt, slid it out of its loops.
'Make a noose on the end, and put your wrists through 
it. Tighten it with your teeth. ' Aaron did, and then, un-
solicited, wrapped the belt around again. Tears were 
streaming down his face. He looked up into Cadmann's 
eyes, and his face had softened. Damn it, he looked too 
much like the boy that Cadmann had taught to swim, had 
taken for hikes.


God. How had it all gone so wrong so fast? Cadmann 
switched the knife to his left hand, and reached down to 
pick up the rifle.
Aaron's palms flat on the ground. Aaron's body 
uncoiled, spun. Aaron's legs lashed out, caught Cadmann 
in 'the side. The knife flicked out of his hand. Aaron 
moved in, a leg whipping out. Cadmann barely got his 
hands up in time, caught the shock of it on his shoulder 
and jaw. Pain. Blackness and the taste of blood in his 
mouth.
Cadmann charged in like a bull. He was mindless of the 
whipcrack kicks, or of Aaron's bound wrists chopping at 
his lowered neck. He smashed Aaron back, hammering 
with both hands. No karate. No judo. Just short, devas-
tating hooks to the body, trying to break him in half -
one-two, one-two, one-two.
Grabbed belt. Wheeled, pivoted, threw Aaron by the 
bound wrists. Perfect leverage and timing. Aaron spun 
through the air, hit hard, rolled over groggily, and his 
hands-
Found Chaka's rifle. Braced butt against chest. Fingers 
found trigger. Cadmann frozen in place.
Aaron's face twisted in anguish.
A single, tormented word:
'Father. '
And then thunder.


534
535
 


38 - The Gathering Storm
But evil is wrought by want of thought As 
well as want of heart!
Thomas Hood, The Lady's Dream' (c 1827)
Edgar and Trish were alone in the communications shack. 
Because he had chosen this time to show her how to build 
weather models, they were the first to hear the choked and 
frantic words. ''Mayday... Mayday... ' Unmistakably, 
Aaron Tragon's voice. The voice of a man very near the 
edge.
Edgar was more curious than anything else. He leaned 
over Trish. 'Wasn't Aaron out with Cadmann and Little 
Chaka?'
'As far as I know, ' she said. She stabbed at virtual but-
tons with a single forefinger. 'Go ahead, Aaron. We -read 
you. '
'In Skeeter XII. Coming over the ridge now. My God. 
Grendels. Grendels everywhere. '
Edgar sat bolt upright. 'What? He slammed the general-
alarm circuit, and across the entire camp klaxons began to 
scream.
Justin heard the alarm and shot a look at Jessica, who nar-
rowed her eyes. It was a paired series of electronic


screams, not the dreaded single bleats which would have 
indicated visual sighting by guards at the periphery. Still, it 
was enough to raise the hair at the back of his neck-.
Grendel guns, never far away, were snatched up by 
eager hands. The entire population of Shangri-La emptied 
into the square. Eyes alert, heads swivelling, voices raised 
in alarm.
Trish appeared in the door of the communications shed 
and searched the crowd until she found Jessica. She 
headed straight for her. Justin watched the two of them 
huddle. When Jessica turned around, the blood had 
drained from her face.
Justin scanned the crowd quickly. Sylvia Weyland was 
nowhere to be seen. He remembered that she was up at 
the mining site, supervising.
The faint burr of a skeeter worked its way into his con-
sciousness. Before he could fully register it, Jessica turned 
toward him, took a halting step, and then froze. Her face 
tilted to the ground. It tilted back up. Her eyes streamed.
They met in the middle of the press, and she leaned 
sobbing into his arms.
Skeeter XII landed four minutes later. Four dozen anxious 
Star Born surrounded the skeeter pad, silent as Aaron 
Tragon emerged.
He was muddy and bleeding and bruised. His shirt was 
torn almost completely away. He looked like a man 
utterly lost.
Justin was the first to his side, and said: 'Tell me. ' Aaron 
looked at him. 'I tried. I tried, Justin. ' Justin grabbed 
Aaron's shoulder. 'Tell me, goddammit!'
The autogyro's rotors slowed, then stopped, Aaron 
leaned back against the cab.
'We were heading back along Ridge Twelve. The


536
537
 


clouds were looking bad and we wanted to make better 
time. There is a cliff there above the river. Chaka 
stopped, told us to look down. God. ' Aaron's voice 
shook as he wiped his brow. 'The grendels were spawn-
ing. The samlon. They boiled in the river. It was... it 
was spectacular. They were so far down, I thought we 
were safe. Then the ledge gave way under our combined 
weight. Cadmann and I jumped back in time, but Chaka 
went over. '
He paused, and during that pause, Big Chaka pushed 
his way through the crowd and came to stand before 
Aaron, looking up at him with an expression Justin found 
unreadable. Justin started to speak, but Big Chaka put a 
hand on his arm, imploring silence.
'He slid halfway down before he caught himself. He 
twisted something. He was too close to the river. 
Cadmann and I went after him. There were roots poking 
out. We used those.
'It had been raining up there. The bank was unstable 
Cadmann got to Chaka, helped him up. They slid. 
Cadmann stopped their slide, and I got down closer. Then the 
grendels had us spotted. '
'Grendels, ' Big Chaka said.
Aaron nodded with infinite regret. 'They boiled up out 
of the water. Six, seven, eight of them. Little ones, but a 
flood, once they realized that there was food. Cadmann 
screamed at me to get back. I ignored him and tried to get to 
them. There wasn't enough to hang on to; I shot one 
with the grendel gun. Cadmann shot two more with his 
rifle, and then one with his pistol. They got to Chaka 
first... '
He buried his head in his hands. 'They screamed. They 
screamed. Oh, God, I never want to hear anything like 
that again. They were screaming curses, and killing gren-
dels. For every one they killed, two more appeared. And


they both slid down into the water, and then there was 
nothing but blood.
'I don't know how long I hung there, watching the 
water. Then I climbed back up. I was numb. ' He held up 
his hands. They were torn and bloody. 'I lost my grip a few 
times, but I made it back to the top. I'd... I'd torn my shirt. 
Lost my comlink. By the time I got back to the skeeter, the 
weather was turning bad. I called in a mayday. I couldn't 
think straight any more. I flew back. '
He met Jessica's eyes. Then Justin's. Then Big Chaka's. 
Jessica moved up to hold him.
The group was silent. Justin was shaking.
Big Chaka looked up at the sky. It was massed high 
with dark, angry clouds. 'How long before the storm?'
Almost in answer, drops began to fall.
He hung his head. 'When it is over, we must go out and 
see what we can recover of my son. ' He looked at Aaron 
again. Something - not anger, not grief - stole across his 
dark face, and then was gone.
There was pain. Pain in his back, his head, a great tearing, 
burning ache that threatened to consume all of his 
thoughts, all of his life. It was just too large, bigger than 
anything he had ever experienced in his life. More than all of 
his previous pains combined.
There was cold. Wet. There was water around him. 
Near him. Flowing over him.
Little Chaka awoke.
Is my back broken? It was a natural question, one that he 
couldn't answer at the moment. In his entire universe, 
nothing existed but agony. Such questions would come 
later - if there was a later.
His eyes wouldn't focus. All he got were patterns of 
shadow and light.


539
538
 


What was there to remember? What had happened?
He remembered...
He remembered.
Aaron. Oh God. Aaron had shot him. Was that memory 
correct? And if it was, why wasn't he dead?
He struggled to move. What could move? He remem-
bered a flash of light, the struggle to get his own gun up to 
the aim. Aaron's rifle coming up...
No, he was thinking backwards, now. From the last 
thing he remembered to the beginning.
Calm. Try to remember. Aaron shot him. And then-? 
And then Cadmann would have shot Aaron. Chaka went 
quite calm on thinking this. He might be dead. (Was he 
already dead? Was this what death felt like? Just a slow 
sinking into the earth? Was there pain and wetness? 
Certainly he had been shot in the head. Certainly he was 
dead now. )
He had no hope of truly being alive... did he?
But he knew that he had been avenged. In fact, if 
Cadmann had killed Aaron, and if he, Chaka, were still 
alive (as he began to suspect that he might in fact be), then 
there was the chance that he would be rescued. Cadmann 
would burn in hell before he would allow one of his own 
to-
Chaka's eyes finally cleared.
He managed to catch the whimper in his throat before it 
escaped, but that didn't make his world a better place to be.
There, in the water before him, was Cadmann.
He looked so like he always did, except his tanned face 
seemed pale. Cadmann's blue-green eyes stared at him, 
almost as if he were about to speak. Almost. The hole in 
his throat said that there would never be another word 
from him. Chaka squeezed his eyes shut. It took all of his 
strength, but he had to do it. He had no choice. He 
couldn't cope with this. It was worse than death.


He opened his eyes again, praying that it was an hallu-
cination. It could be, couldn't it? It would change when he 
opened his eyes again, the way objects in a dream change if 
you look away and then look back again.
But Cadmann still floated there. Water flowed over the 
staring eyes. Cadmann's mouth was open just a little as if 
caught in mid-word. Trying to speak, to say one more 
thing, just one more before silence fell for all time.
Chaka wept.
Blackness came for him.
He didn't know how long he had been unconscious. He 
woke to a nightmare. He felt it moving through the water. 
He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.
It was there in the water with him.
A grendel. He felt the heat wash from its body. He 
could hear its sinuous splashing. It looked as big as a 
house.,
Coming to consciousness meant returning to the house 
of pain. Chaka yearned for death. This was the passage. 
This was crossing over into the other world, a world without 
pain. A world where Cadmann awaited him, watched him 
now. Be brave, my friend. Don't fear the dark...
He heard the breathing, and then no breathing, just a 
hissing gurgle. He opened his eyes. No grendel...
At first his astonishment surprised even him. What in 
the hell was going on? Then he saw the snorkel. It barely 
crested the surface of the water. Cadzie Blue. The grendel 
herself was a shadow beneath the surface. Just barely 
beneath the surface. Watching him.
Even in the midst of nightmare, the biologist in Little 
Chaka was intrigued. This was the first grendel snorkel 
anyone had seen on the mainland. The water was so 
damned shallow. So why did the bitch even bother? She 
couldn't have been stalking him. She couldn't have had


540
541
 


any reason to hide from him, God knew. So what in the 
world... ?
A splash in the water near her, and suddenly some 
thing flapped in her teeth. God. A samlon. Her head came 
up out of the water just a little, and he could see that the 
samlon's legs were too well formed. It was almost that 
time. Now that he became aware of it, he realized that the 
water was filled with these shapes. Dozens... hundreds of 
samlon.
Why didn't she just eat him? Was she saving him for 
her progeny? Was she a fat, overstuffed old bitch who 
wanted a special treat for her darl-
Sudden pain ignited in the right leg. With the dregs of 
his strength Chaka craned his neck, watched the head of 
something black and clawed emerge from the water, 
watched it wriggling as it savaged his thigh.
He thought that no fear remained in him. He was 
wrong.
Chaka tried to scream. Somehow, being devoured by a 
pack of infants was infinitely more frightening than a single 
grendel's fangs. This... nibbling would go on and on and 
on.
His shriek sounded like the cry of a child's doll.
The water thrashed, and suddenly the attacker samlon 
was up in the air, in the mouth of the grendel, bitten in 
half - and spat out.
She looked at him again. What in the hell was this?
Three weirds. One dead, one fled, one dying.
The weird who had spared Old Grendel's life... what 
reward would Strongest One expect or accept? That One 
would teach Old Grendel how to shape the magic that 
would hold the universe prisoner, to enslave God and 
God's daughters... that One lay dead in the water, her


life's blood spreading through the lake, to summon Old 
Grendel's daughters.
The one who had killed Strongest One, that was 
Strongest One now. If Old Grendel could reach her as she 
fled... what would she do? Work out her rage on the weird 
who was the ruin of all her ambitions? Or force that one to 
serve her, teach her? It didn't matter. That One was beyond 
Old Grendel's reach.
The third lay helpless and wounded. In minutes it 
would be eaten by her own children. She had to make a 
decision, and quickly.
She looked up at the darkening sky. Felt the fat droplets 
splattering against her. The world was drowning, the 
Death Wind would have the land, and no time remained.
She turned her back to the man. She thrashed her tail, 
and carefully hooked it through the outer layer of skin, the 
loose, half-shed skin that all of the weirds seemed to like. 
The weird thrashed and fought and she thought for a 
moment: What to do?
Yes. She knew now.
She dove beneath the water, hauling the weird with 
her.
Rachael Moskowitz didn't turn as her husband entered 
Camelot's main mess hall and wrapped his arms around her 
waist. None of the First spoke. The news from the main-
land, the word of sudden savage death, had hit them hard.
And now this: on the communal vidscreen, Geographic 
beamed them an image of the storm descending on 
Shangri-La. Camelot had been lashed by rain for almost a 
week, but that was only the fringe of the storm that would 
cross Shangri-La.
'How did she take it?' Rachael said. 'How is Mary Ann?'


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'Mickey told her, personally, ' he said softly, pressing 
his lips against her ear.
Rachael nodded. 'That was probably best. '
'He said she's all right. Just all right. Wants her children 
around her. '
'Ruth, ' Rachael murmured. 'God. We need to get 
through to Ruth. '
Zack stiffened a little. Ruth had betrayed them. But... 
but she was their only child, and it was time to forget 
such things. 'We'll patch through. The important thing is 
Robor, and Robor is safe at the mine. We can be sure of 
that. Cadmann made sure of that. '
They were quiet for a moment, watching the coloured 
swirl which represented vast masses of warm and cold air 
fighting above the mainland.
Rachael shook her head slowly. 'Cadmann. 
Somehow... I always thought he was immortal. '
'He never did, ' Zack said. 'That's one mistake he never 
made. '


39 - Bees
Let Justice be done, though the world perish.
Emperor Ferdinand I (1503-64)
Little Chaka awoke from a dream of drowning and found 
himself vomiting water. He felt only confusion and pain 
and the savage certainty that he had gone beyond agony 
into death, beyond death into hell.
When the sick ended, he rolled over onto his side, not 
opening his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to want to 
look at the surroundings. The ground beneath him was 
rock, not the mud and silt of a river bank. Distantly, water 
trickled into water. More distant still was another sound, a 
steady, drumming vibration.
He opened his eyes. There was nothing to see. He 
wasn't certain his eyes had opened at all.
But he'd moved, he could move his left leg and left 
arm. He told himself very firmly not to reach up and touch 
his head. He got his elbow under him, his knee, then his 
other knee, which felt limp and dead. He slipped, and 
almost went over the edge of a rock shelf into water.
Water again? Where the hell was he? His left hand 
touched something cold and scaly. His fingers felt it, and 
he knew immediately what it was. A dead samlon. He


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545
 


could feel the scales, the fins now fully developed into 
legs. The teeth. Tiny spikes budding on the tail. Something 
had bitten it, its flesh torn and...
Something.
He stopped, quite still, and listened again. Out in the 
water. Something was moving. There came a sound. Not 
water sounds dripping from the rocks. Not the beat of his 
heart or the thunder of his breathing.
The grendel. The beast which had brought him here, 
unharmed. Which had left a dead samlon for him.
Food?
What the hell?
He was so weak. So weak. Impossibly, the darkness 
spun. He couldn't think, couldn't move. Lights appeared in 
the darkness and then he was gone, wondering only at the 
very last if he would ever wake up again.
The sky opened, gushing with rain and lightning as if it 
had saved it all up since Avalon was new. On Camelot the 
waves pounded the already drowned Surf's Up, demol-
ished it, drove its pilings into splinters and changed the 
very shape of the land.
The storm moved across the continent like a malevolent 
amoeboid monster. It hit Shangri-La like a bomb. The 
Seconds draped tarps across the unfinished buildings 
which composed half the camp, protecting the naked 
wood from the savage downpour. Then they took to their 
shelters, huddled together and listened to the rain. They 
thought of the swelling rivers. Grendels would be out 
tonight, but there would be no scent in rain such as this. 
And so they were safe.
But quiet. Their mourning penetrated to the very roots 
of the colony. They had never known a moment as black 
as this.


Aaron sat near the fireplace in the main hall, his long 
arms wrapped around his knees. He looked out at the rain 
and said very little, as if words would somehow cheapen 
his misery. His eyes were red-rimmed.
The rain had hammered at them for twenty hours 
already, as savage as a hail of ball bearings.
People came and went, but Aaron stayed where he was. 
Jessica was usually by his side. She needed the touch as 
much as he did, but it was hours before he could let himself 
be comforted. When he finally leaned his great head 
against her chest and held her and at last slept, Jessica felt 
her own grief at last. Bleakly she wondered how it would 
feel when its full impact finally struck her. For now there 
was the rain, and the watch for grendels in the rain. She 
left Aaron asleep and peered through the window at the 
mess hall. She knew that Justin was there, and she needed to 
talk to him more than she could say.
She jumped as a hand touched her shoulder, but it was 
only Trish. 'Go on, ' she said quietly. Til watch things 
over here. '
Jessica nodded her thanks, and hugged her friend. Was 
Trish her friend? God, what a thought. What was every-
thing, what the hell did it all mean? Toshiro dead. Joe and 
Linda dead. Stu dead. Now Chaka and her father dead. 
Why? Because Aaron had wanted to...
No. She couldn't allow herself to stumble down that 
road. Aaron would have saved them, if he could. Aaron 
was sorriest of all about everything that had happened. 
Aaron would have died to save Cadmann, or Chaka. 
Hadn't he said so? Didn't she know it?
Then why did she want to die?
She covered her head and went out into the storm.
Upstream of the base camp, the beaver grendels were in a


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panic. The river had swelled to twice its ordinary flow and it 
hammered at them, drove at their nests and dams with a 
ferocity they had never experienced... but which something 
deep within them recognized.
Some knowing beyond their dim consciousness.
This is the time... this is the time...
So they fought to repair, and failed. And when the 
dams burst some were swept away and dashed against 
rocks. Others climbed blindly out of ponds which had 
swollen to angry, storm-tossed lakes, seeking refuge from 
the tree trunks and jagged chunks of detritus which 
dashed them. Chunks of dams from their cousins further 
north, chunks of their own dams. They fought, blindly, 
but it was no use. And as the rains intensified, as the 
storms grew greater through the night and into the next 
day, the work that they and their ancestors had laboured 
over for decades would be swept away as well.
Jessica found Justin in the mess hall, looking out of the 
window. Katya was at his side. Jessica felt a twinge, but 
there was nothing to be done. She had made her choice, 
long ago.
Katya pulled at Justin's arm as Jessica entered. He got up 
and kissed Katya's hand, crossed to Jessica and hugged her.
God, it felt good. That hug was like physical nourish-
ment. She just wanted to stay in his arms and feel his 
heart beat against her, and feel that her entire life wasn't 
falling apart, that the tears streaming down her face would 
stop one day. That there was enough love in all the world 
to make everything right.
'Have you talked to Mary Ann?' he asked.
She shook her head. 'I can't. Not yet. I talked with 
Mickey - he's the one who broke the news. I just can't talk 
about it over holo, Justin. I can't. '


He nodded understanding. 'I know. It was awful telling 
Sylvia. Jesus. '
'How did she take it?'
'Well. They're busy up at the mine. There's a thousand 
things to do to get Robor lashed up and into the lee. It's 
safe - dad made sure of that. It would be safe even against a 
worse storm than this. But it keeps her busy, and I guess that 
is a good idea. '
She nodded, and backed away from him. She sniffed 
coffee. 'That smells good, ' she said.
'My manners. '
God, how was he holding up so well? She knew how 
close he and Cadmann had been. In some ways, terrible 
ways, closer than she had been to her father.
Her heart broke again. Carlos brought her a cup of 
coffee, thrust it into her hands. 'Your mothers, both of 
them, are very strong. If they weren't, they couldn't have 
survived this place. None of us could have. The weak did 
not make the trip. Those unsure of their strength took 
refuge in Hibernation Instability. '
Jessica stared. 'Carlos? What does that mean?'
He shrugged. 'Let's just say that I think HI was a con-
venient out for those who couldn't cope. Just work the 
garden. Raise children. '
'Make sculptures?'
He smiled. 'We all have our little refuges. '
They paused, listening to the rain hammer against the 
walls, the ceiling. A steady, arrhythmic thrumming. 
According to Geographic the first wave of rain would die 
away by morning. There would be peace, followed by 
more rain, in waves, for at least a week. And beyond that 
week, another storm front, and then yet another. They 
could wait it out. It was what they were here for.
'When the sky clears, ' Carlos said, Til take a skeeter up 
into the mountains. To the coordinates Aaron gave us. I


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549
 


will find your father's bones, I think. ' He sipped at his cof-
fee. There was something in his eyes that she couldn't 
quite read. 'His comlink card was still broadcasting. I will 
find his bones. I believe that I owe your father that much. ' 
Then he closed his eyes and drank, and didn't say another 
word for the rest of the night.
The merciless torrent tore the beaver dams into splinters, 
and the rivers swelled, changed course, flooded across the 
plains. Flash floods and waterspouts raged, whirled, tore 
the sky ever more brutally, made it bleed.
The water roared across the plain and sank down into 
the nests, the bee nests which the Star Born had seen but 
not understood. There were thousands of them across the 
southern portion of the continent. Each was home to tens of 
thousands of bees.
There was chaos, and they responded by huddling and 
then swarming up and out. The water beat them back. 
They collapsed their tunnel walls to seal them, and then 
retreated into their deepest tunnels.
And waited.
For months now, they had fed their special variety of 
speed-enhanced 'royal jelly' to selected embryos within 
the nest. Now it began to pay off, and the first of the new 
queens were shaking the water from their motor-wings.
Edgar sheltered his head against the rain, walked out in 
the ankle-high mud and sloshed across the encampment. 
The lights of the distant mess hall were dimmed by the 
intensity of the rain.
He caught sight of a small shape huddled in the down-
pour against the wall of one of the dorms. Without 
knowing entirely why, he headed in that direction.


It was Ruth, and when she saw him coming she ran in 
the opposite direction, splashing through the rain. It was 
probably impossible but he would have sworn he heard a 
sound through the downpour - a small, hopeless animal 
cry.
He caught up with her, happy for his newfound stamina 
- it was damned difficult to make headway through mud 
this deep. He grabbed a shoulder and spun her around. 
The rain had streaked her hair across her face. Her eyes 
were wide and staring. She didn't seem to recognize him. He 
guided her into one of the store-rooms.
She shivered. Her teeth clattered until he thought that 
she would crack the enamel.
'What's the matter with you?' he asked.
She looked at him, through him. And was silent.
She stopped shuddering. Her skin looked very fine to 
him. Almost porcelain. Almost translucent. She looked so 
innocent. So lost.
'You're going to catch your death, ' he said.
'I don't care, ' she said. 'I... just don't care. ' She 
sounded lost, helpless.
He sat her down on a barrel, peeled the cowl back 
from her head. 'What's the matter? Why don't you care?'
'I don't know what I'm doing here, ' she said.
He started to speak, then realized how hard it was for 
her to say even that much, and kept silent.
'I came for Aaron. I thought that maybe there was a 
way to be... with Aaron. '
She lowered her face into her hands. 'What am I doing? 
Why am I here?'
Aaron didn't want Ruth. Or anyone. All Aaron wanted 
was this continent.
'What you did, ' Edgar said finally, surprised to hear the 
words escape his lips, 'was follow your heart. You had to 
try. '


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550
 


She looked up and focused on him as if she were seeing 
him for the first time. And then lowered her face into her 
hands and began to sob. And finally, after a long time, he 
pulled a barrel next to her, and put his arm around her. 
She let him.
After a while she leaned her head against his shoulder, 
and she cried, and he listened to the rain for a long, long 
time.
Two days later the rains ceased. The waters began to 
recede and the plains began to drain. The earth absorbed 
the waters and finally the sun touched the earth again. 
Dark clouds still fringed the sky.
The earth trembled. And then began to crumble. And 
from within the ground crawled first one, then ten, and 
then a hundred, and then a million bees.
Tens of millions. Swarming. Hungry.
The Death Wind had come.
The second day after the rains ceased, Carlos was in 
Skeeter II, Evan Castenada in Skeeter IV. They rose up 
over the mountain ridge, floating like insects on a breeze. 
Justin crouched next to Carlos.
'Are you all right, amigo?' Carlos asked. The question 
was one of those existential absurdities that friends were 
obliged to ask each other. Justin looked at him bleakly.
He didn't answer directly. 'Look at the grendel dam, ' 
he said instead, pointing below them and to the east. 
'Utterly destroyed. They're pretty harmless most of the 
time, I guess - but who knows how they behave in a dis-
aster like this?'
'Mmm. ' Carlos swung around. There was a part of him 
that didn't want to complete their stated mission,


that would rather do anything in the world than find what 
they expected to find.
'How is Jessica?' Carlos asked. His voice had grown 
quieter. Much quieter. Justin could barely hear it above 
the hum of the rotors.
'She's made her choices, ' Justin said. 'She thinks she's 
more use back at the camp. '
There was something that he hadn't said, of course: 
Caring for Aaron.
Something had certainly happened to Aaron up there. 
There was some core of the man that was different. 
Exposed. Torn. Damaged. Something. Justin couldn't 
quite believe Aaron's account of what happened. 
Something was wrong. Had Aaron panicked and aban-
doned Cadmann and Chaka? What was Aaron hiding?
Or perhaps it was just seeing death, so stark and violent. 
Justin remembered watching Stu die in the snow. The image 
was locked away from him where the pain couldn't reach. 
Where he didn't feel it. That way, he didn't have to think 
about barbecues at Stu's house, or playing five-card stud, 
or skeeter-racing with a friend and brother. It was just too 
painful to remember those things.
And maybe that was what was killing Aaron. No one 
can ever quite live up to their own self-image. Maybe 
Aaron just got a dose of reality.
Justin ground his palms against his eyes. Father. 
Cadmann. God, I'll miss you.
They were maybe twenty minutes from the coordinates 
when the nightmare began.
The wind had shifted. He looked out of the main win-
dow and saw a huge dark cloud billowing across their 
path.
'Hey, Justin, any idea what this is? Where in the world 
would a dust cloud that size come from, after a rain like 
this?'


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552
 


The question was hardly out of Carlos' mouth before 
the radio clattered in a burst of static. Evan. His voice was 
taut with fear.
'It's not a dust cloud. Mayday. Mayday-'
Justin saw the edge of the dark cloud touch Skeeter IV. 
Above the skeeter was a sparkling; the skeeter lurched. 
The blades were sparkling, little bright flashes in the 
smoke... and in that moment, Justin knew the face of 
their enemy. He screamed to Carlos: 'Get us the hell out of 
here. It's bees. '
Carlos' hands were lightning at the controls. The 
skeeter tilted far over, away from the approaching swarm.
'Bees in the rotor blades. They're exploding. Vicious 
little flying cherry bombs-'
Death was coming. Death was almost here.
Jessica and Aaron crossed Shangri-La's main square. The 
buildings had all stood up under the assault of the ele-
ments. When the tarps were dragged down, the new, 
timbers were unwarped and could dry in the sun. There 
was repair work to be done, but it would be completed 
within the week. They walked out to the horse pen, next to 
the chamel pen on the outskirts of the camp, near the 
double electrified fences.
The chamels were muddied and streaked - in fact, they 
rolled happily in the mud. She let it touch her heart, 
bleakly. There was death here, but wonders too in a world 
that could produce creatures as beautiful as these.
A crowd gathered around them to hear the speech 
Aaron had promised. Carey Lou gaped worshipfully at 
Aaron. Heather McKennie was holding his arm. Trish 
and Edgar were among the throng, but Edgar was holding 
hands with Ruth. They had spent a lot of time together 
over the last few days. There was no sexual heat between


them, just gentle touches and a lot of quiet conversation.
Just holding hands. Almost innocently. Here stood a 
pregnant girl and this young man newly awakening to the 
hungers of the flesh. And the two of them had forged a 
bond of... innocence. There was no other word for it. 
Aaron had tried to separate him from Trish, and it hadn't 
worked... Trish had performed some kind of miracle on 
Edgar, saving him after Toshiro's death... but then didn't 
want him for herself. But seemed to have infected him 
with the Pygmalion bug.
Jessica was confused. And not a little jealous, and 
wasn't entirely certain why. She had all the sex she 
wanted. Why the hell would she covet... holding hands 
with Edgar?
'We have to rebuild, ' Aaron said. The sun burned down 
between the clouds, as if trying to make up for the burst of 
rain. It was lying to them: Geographic promised another 
downburst within a day or two. 'We have paid too high a 
price. We must claim this continent for our own. ' His 
voice quavered. She had never seen him like this, never 
seen him quite so honest, so close to the bone. This was a 
new Aaron. Her father was dead, and into that vacuum 
had stepped a new leader.
She scanned the faces of the gathered. Family. Friends. 
Lovers. Standing in the muddied streets, contemplating 
the work to be done before the camp could come to life 
again.
But in the end there would be Aaron. Aaron, who had 
led them back to the mainland. Aaron, who had risked his 
life in vain to save the one man he loved more than any 
other.
She could see it in their faces. This tragedy would 
finally knit the entire colony together.
Dogs barked anxiously at the periphery of the camp. 
Jessica peered out over the crowd to see...


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555
 


The impossible.
Just beyond the double electrified fence, a torpedo 
shape crawled through the mud. Slowly. Gradually. 
Tentatively.
The entire camp was utterly silent. Out of the corner of 
her eye she saw Aaron's face, and it was ashen. Whatever 
he had been about to say had simply died on his lips.
A grendel. A huge grendel. It approached slowly. And it 
was... dragging something.
Unmistakably, its barbed tail was hooked through the 
pant leg of... a man. A black man. Trish's rifle went up to 
her shoulder, but Big Chaka Mubutu, standing beside her 
said: 'No. '
'Oh, my God, ' someone said. 'It's Little Chaka. '
Little Chaka?
'He's alive, ' Big Chaka said. Jessica felt frozen in place, 
unable to move. How... ?
She looked back up at Aaron, and his eyes were wide. 
Too wide, and she felt as if she were falling into them.
Aaron had seen Little Chaka die! Had seen him torn to 
pieces by... by grendels. Her world spun, and her eyes 
locked again on the enormous shape which had paused 
just at the outer ring of buildings, and made a kind of cooing 
sound.
Oh, my God. It was trying to speak to them.
'The fuck you don't-'
That was Edgar's voice. A slapping sound. Jessica 
heard a gunshot, loud enough to stun her hearing, blasting 
right next to her ear. Mud kicked up a few metres in front 
of her.
The grendel's head cocked. It watched them.
Edgar's hand was on the barrel of the gun. Aaron 
tugged at it. He was in such shock that he couldn't harness 
his strength, couldn't pull it away from Edgar for a critical 
second.


'It killed Cadmann!' he huffed. 'It killed Cadmann. Let 
me
Big Chaka spoke quietly. 'I thought you said that it 
was a raft of small ones. It was spawning samlon killed 
Cadmann. Killed my boy. '
Aaron was silent. Trish looked at Aaron, eyes murder-
ously cold. It was a community of guns, and guns were 
turning toward Aaron.
'Jessica, ' Aaron whispered. 'It isn't what it looks like. '
And in that moment she knew. She couldn't make the 
part of her that knew talk to the part of her that could act. 
She couldn't. But she knew for an instant, she felt the 
shields slide back and looked into the core of herself and 
knew, and felt herself falling into the abyss, and sealed it 
back up, teetering. Heard her own voice quavering, heard 
the lie as she spoke it to herself. 'Of course. I don't know 
what they're-'
Big Chaka took a step forward. The grendel shook its 
tail, detaching it from Little Chaka's leg, and then moved 
back a couple of metres.
'My God, ' someone said. 'It's smart. '
'It brought Chaka back. ' Big Chaka punched a code 
into his comlink, and the fence power died. He swung the 
gate open. The crowd moved forward, the grendel retreating 
as they did. It backed up a few metres more, and watched 
them carefully.
Big Chaka yelled. 'No one touches that animal. No 
one. ' It was the first time that she had ever heard him 
raise his voice. Jessica stood with Aaron. Edgar's hand 
was on the rifle. Somehow, Trish had moved over behind 
Aaron. Her hand was on Aaron's other arm. Tight.
Aaron was frozen. His tongue dipped pinkly out of his 
mouth, moistening his lips. His hair hung down to his 
shoulders stringily. There was no life in his face.
'No, ' Trish said quietly, and her eyes met his squarely.


557
556
 


'If you raise that rifle, I swear to God I'll kill you. Or 
Edgar will. '
Aaron looked to Jessica for support. She was numb. 
This was all happening too damned quickly. Her chest felt 
like a skeeter had landed on it.
'My boy... ?' Big Chaka wept. 'My boy. '
The small man cuddled his son's body in his arms. 
They stayed like that for a long time. There was a stillness to 
the world, something that penetrated deeply, and Jessica 
couldn't bring herself to move.
Under Big Chaka's direction three of the crowd picked 
Little Chaka up and carried him back into the camp. They 
swung the gate closed behind them. Outside, the grendel 
watched them. Big Chaka's eyes were on fire. He walked 
toward the group, one hesitant step at a time. Then she 
realized that he struggled to keep from running, as if 
something connected him to Aaron Tragon that wanted to 
pull him faster and faster, as if he were a man out of control.
Big Chaka whispered something. When he got closer 
she could hear what it was: 'He was shot, ' Chaka was say-
ing over and over again. 'He was shot. '
'I told... I told you, ' Aaron said, trying to find words, 
trying to find anything to fill the void of silence that had 
suddenly opened all around him. 'I tried to help. I fired at 
the grendels... ' There was spittle on his chin.
'You had a grendel gun\' Chaka screamed. 'My son 
was shot with a bullet!'
'I... I... '
'Do you want to know what my boy said?'
Aaron shook his head numbly. A vast buzzing filled
Jessica's head.
'He said: "Aaron shot us. " That's what he said. ' 
Suddenly, without any warning, Trish's belt knife was
at Aaron's throat. 'You incredible bastard, " she hissed.


The centre of Jessica's world was falling away. Aaron 
was crumbling in front of her. She didn't know what she 
was doing. Trish pulled the rifle from his hands. Limp 
hands.
Trish on one side, Edgar on the other, Aaron was too 
shocked to fight, still staring at the grendel as if looking 
into the face of Judgement.
'You will stand trial, ' Big Chaka said. 'And my son 
will testify against you. '
Aaron struggled to find an answer, but before he could 
voice it, they were interrupted by a scream:
'Bees!'


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40 - Death
In war, whichever side may call itself the victor, 
there are no winners, but all are losers.
Neville Chamberlain, speech (1938)


weird had noticed the sound of the Death 
Wind. With speed raging through her blood, 
she wove a path among the weirds, brushing 
one and another but hurting none. She ran 
straight to the tower and up one of the legs.
The water was covered with something 
rigid.
The Death Wind was a darkness across half 
the sky. She would never mistake that for 
storm clouds. A dark tendril was reaching 
down, in the fashion of a tornado, toward 
where the puzzle-beasts laired.
She smashed through the cover and was 
into Shangri-La's cistern. She settled in, lifted 
her snorkel and let the heat and speed seep 
from her blood. The water was humming, 
bathing her in the sound of the Death Wind.


It was all coming together, again. She had brought the 
weirds a gift, and they had accepted it.
She had wondered if their Strongest One would chal-
lenge her; she had wondered how. Even the dam builders 
did not cooperate like weirds, and no grendel was so feeble. 
But their Strongest One, the killer, was being restrained 
and led away.
And now they gathered round her at a respectful dis-
tance, making the sounds they always made. The injured 
one had spoken to her in such a fashion. It was their way 
of passing their thoughts from one mind to another. Old 
Grendel knew she couldn't do that. She must find another 
way.
And now another sound was rising. For a moment she 
took it for the sound of their flyers. Then... her heart's 
desire was snatched from her again.
Not for a moment did she pause to regret. Old Grendel 
had marked the nest's water source when it came within 
her sight and scent. It was an elevated structure at the hub 
of a web of streets. She was in motion before any


Carlos swung Skeeter II around in a circle, calculating 
wind and the direction of the bee mass, and then swung 
around back south. The wind blew northwest. Unless the 
bees were heading to a particular destination, they would 
drift with the wind. So it made sense to figure that they 
must be going toward the mountains - and that was 
north. They were heading away from the plains, away 
from the flooding. Fine. Justin had the cowl locked down 
tight. A few bees spattered against it, but these bees 
weren't on speed. They weren't in an emergency state. On 
speed they couldn't cover the distance to get their queens to 
safety. They could be counting on a few dry hours. The 
rhythm of this damned planet had to be as deeply 
ingrained as breathing.
He watched Skeeter IV emerge from the cloud for a 
minute. Justin said: 'Evan's going to make it! He's-' 
Then the cloud closed around Skeeter IV, and the 
sparkling pinwheel of its rotor flared outward. 
Something - a cloud of bees - ignited.
'Holy Mary, Mother of God-' Skeeter IV was the edge


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of a fireball. Bees exploded in a pop-pop-popping that 
they could hear even over the whip of their own rotors, a 
machine-gun crackle, the bees' carapaced speed sacs igniting 
as if they were a swarm of flying firecrackers. Evan's 
skeeter juddered sideways as if slapped by a giant hand. 
Then it was entirely enshrouded in flame. All that rang 
through the radio was Evan's anguished scream as his 
doomed skeeter spiralled and plunged and smashed into 
the rock below.
Justin's hands gripped the rail in front of him, 
squeezed. He had cut his hand on something. The blood 
ran in a thin stream, drooling down his wrists.
Carlos swung clear of the cloud of bees, heading back to 
the camp.
In the instant the crowd's attention went to the approaching 
swarm, Aaron took sudden, violent action. He stamped 
Trish's instep and wrenched himself free of her grip. He 
turned and drove his fist as hard as he could into Edgar's 
face, breaking his nose and sending blood squirting down 
his cheek. Trish threw herself on him, screaming, biting, 
striking.
Jessica still couldn't move, as if trapped in a slow-
motion universe of overloaded emotions.
Trish had Aaron down, a long bloody furrow along his 
cheek. Her knee pounded into his groin over and over 
again. Blinded by the blood in his eyes, Edgar was kicking 
wildly. Screaming, Aaron got his foot into Trish's chest 
and push-kicked her away. She flew two metres and 
slapped into the mud. Edgar got a kick in at Aaron's head, 
then screamed as the first of the bees reached him and bit, 
tearing a little wedge of flesh from his cheek.
He forgot about Aaron and ran toward the nearest 
dorm.


Trish fled toward the rec hall. Beneath it was a kevlar-
reinforced shelter. Grendel-proof. Bee-proof? A mesh metal 
curtain hung across the doorway. Trish slipped through its 
folds. 'Jessica!' she screamed from safety. A bee spattered 
against it, crawled, searching for a way in. She held her 
side, her face. They bled, where bees had bitten.
Jessica ran for the shelter.
Aaron screamed: 'Help me-'
And Jessica turned for a fatal moment. Aaron stag-
gered up, and their eyes met. His arms went out to her-
A dark wind blew across her and covered Jessica in 
bees. Hair to ankles, all of her right side was twinkling 
black. She screamed, thrashed, tried to brush them away, 
tried to spit them out, tried to run. Aaron took two steps 
toward her, but it was too late.
Trish couldn't watch any more. She closed the door. 
Bees were clawing through the curtain.
Aaron took a step toward Jessica, out of his mind with 
pain, but... but he felt something, something that he had 
never felt before. He just couldn't let her die. He just 
couldn't - she was down in a mass of crawling black 
shapes. Her arm stretched out to him, scintillating black. 
She screamed. Bees crawled into her mouth. One bur-
rowed out of her cheek. They were at her eyes. Aaron 
lurched away.
There were a few human shapes on the ground. Lucky 
ones were in kevlar safety sacks or wrapped in blankets. A 
few bee-ridden Star Born crawled blindly, being eaten 
alive. He slapped at his face as a bee went for his eyes. It 
bit his hand instead, nearly tearing off a finger joint. He 
had only seconds to live-
He saw the chamels. They were burying themselves 
deep in the mud and dung which filled their pen. Their 
exposed haunches shone Cadzie Blue.


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He dove for the mud pit, burrowing through the filth 
until he came up next to one of the chamels. Rolling in the 
muck, covering himself. Gouged in a hundred places, 
Aaron shuddered as chamel shit oozed into his wounds. His 
arm snaked up, grabbed the creature around the neck, held it 
close. This wasn't perfect. But the bees had other targets, 
horses and pigs and human beings. They might not find 
him. They couldn't find him. Oh, God, he hurt so much.
Jessica.
Jessica.
Wrapped in a blue blanket, Katya hammered on the mess 
hall's shelter door. The sound of the swarm was over-
whelmingly loud, loud enough to drive rational thought 
from her mind. She had been bitten only twice, but the 
fear almost paralysed her.
No response. She ran to a sheltered nook - a toolshed 
next to one of the dorms. In the mess hall, she saw a torch 
waving. Some idiot was trying to use fire to keep the bees at 
bay.
There was a sudden crackle and five thousand bees just 
exploded - Fire and a machine-gun flashing pop-pop-pop 
and shredded crustaceans showered flame everywhere. 
Half of the camp was rain-drenched, and invulnerable. 
But half was unfinished - naked wood protected by tarps 
and then sun-dried for two days. That burned.
The acrid smoke stench wound its way into her nos-
trils, and she shut the door as tightly as she could. She 
pressed her hands against the wood. It was still damp. Oh 
God. She hoped that was enough.
The door shuddered as bees rapped against it. Wood 
splintered.
Katya wrapped herself more tightly in the blanket, 
staring into darkness.


learning bees slammed against the metal walls of the com-
munications shed. Metal wouldn't burn, but it was still a 
terrifying din. 'Where's Edgar?' Ruth screamed.
Carey Lou gaped at her. Shock? Remembered, and said, 'I 
saw him outside. Just before we sealed the door. ' Ruth 
screamed again, but then fought her way back to calm. The 
radio behind her crackled. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?'
Ruth switched it on, and cried into it. 'Edgar?' 'Ruth? 
Yeah, it's me. I don't know for how much longer. The 
bees are taking the building apart. They're eating the wood. I 
managed to get here, but I don't know if I can get out. ' 
'What's wrong?'
'Ankle. Twisted it pretty bad. I think that maybe I 
broke it. I'm in Dorm 4. '
She looked around the room. Under them in the shelter 
there were a dozen Seconds. Here there was only Carey 
Lou. Bees batted against windows which so far remained 
secure. 'You don't think that you can get over here? Do 
you have a blanket?'
'It isn't that. The door is jammed. I can't get it open. 
They're going to take the whole damned building apart. I 
can feel it. '
Ruth bit her lip. She opened the hailing frequency. 'Is 
there anyone who can help? We've got problems. Edgar is 
in trouble. '
There was no answer for several long seconds, and then 
'We can't get out of the shelter, Ruth. I'm sorry. Maybe 
when the bees go away. They're bound to at dark. Or if it 
starts raining again. He'll be all right. '
Ruth spun. 'Give me your blanket, Carey Lou, ' she said. 
'I need two of them. ' Carey Lou said: 'What?' 'Don't 
worry. You'll be safe right here. Keep trying to


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564
 


get through to the mine. We need them to bring down 
Robor. We have to get out of here. '
'In the middle of the bees?'
'Don't you get it?' she said fiercely. 'This could go on 
for months. Everyone will die unless we get out. '
Carey Lou nodded and handed her the blanket. She 
wrapped the first one around herself and draped the second 
as a cowl. 'Goodbye, Carey Lou, ' she whispered.
'Ruth, do you have to go?'
She nodded. She paused at the door, wedged it open a 
few centimetres, and then slipped out into the storm.
'Mayday. Mayday, ' Carey Lou bleated into the micro-
phone. 'We need Robor. We need to evacuate-'
Hendrick Sills scanned the communal living room of 
Deadwood Pass's dormitory. His eyes passed the over-
stuffed chair twice before spotting Sylvia Weyland, sunk 
deep within. She was peering out of the slit window set in 
the reinforced concrete wall, warmed by the crackling fire at 
her side. She seemed utterly lost in thought.
She was staring out across the complex. The mine was 
still perking along smoothly, producing its quota of plastic 
briquettes. At this point, it barely needed human 
supervision any more. Analysing units built into the bore-
head sampled the strata as it dug. There would be no 
more fossilized bee surprises.
Sylvia looked up at him, face placid. 'How is the load-
ing?' she asked. 'Any problems?' Robor was scheduled to 
make a half-loaded mercy run back to the island. 'I need to 
get home. ' She stopped, and seemed to consider her 
next words carefully. 'I need to be with Mary Ann. '
'We have an urgent message from Shangri-La, ' 
Hendrick said. 'It's bad. '
The placidity vanished from her face.


'Emergency at Shangri-La. They've got a swarm of i 
hose damned carnivorous bees. Most of them made it to 
shelters, but they need to evacuate. Now. '
She was out of her chair in an instant. 'Evacuate 
Deadwood. I want everyone on board Robor in five 
minutes. I want weather charts and a route to Shangri-la. 
a mapped by the time I'm on board. We're gone in ten. ' 
She paused. 'And get every goddam blanket in the camp. 
'
Carlos lost control of the skeeter only three metres from 
the landing pad. 'We're going down!' he screamed above 
the roar of exploding bees. The ground looming up at 
them told the rest of the story. They bounced hard - too 
hard. The door buckled in its frame, leaving a couple of 
centimetres' gap. Justin used his feet to jam a kevlar sur-
vival sack into it.
'Mayday. Mayday, ' Carlos said with a calmness that he 
really didn't feel. 'Is there anyone out there?'
The air was so thick with bees that it was hard to see. 
Then the swarm lifted and Shangri-La appeared through 
the haze. Bodies lay strewn in the streets, dotted with 
black shapes. Bees.
Jesus. You could watch the bodies melting.
'Mayday-'
'D-daddy?' They heard it. Katya's voice.
'Baby? Where are you?'
'I'm in the toolshed next to the rec room. ''
'Isn't there anyone in the rec room?'
'No one that close, ' she said. '/ can't get out. I don't 
have a blanket. Daddy, the blankets work! They keep off 
the bees!'
'I see. Shh. Stay put, darling, ' he said.
Justin looked at him. 'How are we going to get to her?'


566
567
 


'In this, ' Carlos said. He started his engine again. The 
skeeter screeched as it lifted from the ground, and listed 
sideways, counter-rotating slowly. It weaved, barely in 
control. The tail swatted against another skeeter, and 
Carlos cursed as he worked them clear. They climbed to 
rooftop level, fighting for control every centimetre of the 
way. Fire blossomed below them, smoke and flaming bees 
filled the air. The drumming sound above him was bees 
exploding in the rotors.
'We're going down again, ' he muttered. He aimed the 
autogyro at the rec room. When they crashed through the 
wall Justin jolted forward, smacking his head against the 
plexiglass window. He groaned, seeing stars brighter than 
burning bees. They spun and the sheet metal rec hall wall 
buckled. The tail of the autogyro sheared and the battery 
ripped free. Wires from the rec hall frame ripped across 
the battery, and sparks showered. Bees exploded in midair, 
and the swarm lifted for a moment as thousands of them 
caught fire, popped, showered sparks and flaming speed 
everywhere.
Carlos' door popped open. He grabbed a Cadzie Blue 
blanket and wrapped himself in it. Justin grabbed one of 
the kevlar safety sacks and smashed his way out of his side 
of the skeeter.
They had to cover their faces with blankets, but they 
groped their way around the rec hall - smouldering now 
as flaming bees sped this way and that, zipping like mete-
orites.
And this was a blessing in disguise. The bees had dealt 
with fire before, and had evolved a tactic to deal with it. 
They spread out, made it more difficult for the flames to 
spread from one to the other...
'Freeze it!' Justin cried. 'Get Katya out. I'll be right 
behind you!'
They made it to the toolshed door. Carlos pried it open,


and Katya shrank against the wall. She was sobbing, but 
seemed unhurt. Carlos threw a safety sack to her. 'Hurry! 
(Jet into this. '
She crawled into the sack, and as she did so, Justin 
hurriedly inventoried the shed. And there it was - a weed 
burner. Its nozzle would spray liquid fuel in a thin blaz-
ing line. He sloshed the tank and found it only half-
empty.
'Get her the hell out!' he screamed. 'Communications 
should be secure !'
Carlos didn't argue, just slung his daughter over his 
shoulder. 'We'll never make it!' The bees were thick over 
there.
'Yes, we will. ' Justin lit the pilot on the weed burner. I 
\c pumped fuel through it.
He spun, sweeping the air with fire. Bees exploded, set-
ling their neighbours aflame. Carlos had to turn his head 
away from the shower of flaming pseudocrustacea.
The bees thinned in instinctive response to flame.
'Come on!'
Robor had been airborne for only ten minutes when the 
first bees hit them. They batted against the metal struts 
and chewed harmlessly at Robor's external skin. Sylvia 
watched them slap against the main windows. Some bees 
cracked open, leaving a smear of green and red. Most just 
bounced away, spiralling stunned into the void.
Carey Lou's voice crackled over the intercom. 'Watch 
out for bees in the skeeter rotors. Evan blew up. Can you 
hear me? He sounded desperate.
The corner of Sylvia's eye caught lights flashing red in I 
runt of Hendrick, just before a muffled whump shud-
dered through the ship. Too late? Sylvia felt like an idiot. 
'Of course! We read you, Carey. '


568
569
 


'What the hell do we do?' Hendrick watched a new 
rush of bees crash against the window leaving blood and 
slime behind.
'Kill the motors!'
'Done. Sylvia, I think Skeeter III is a deader. '
A shower of tiny comets was drifting past the win-
dows, exploding as they fell. Robor lurched sideways, 
then began a slow, ugly spin. Sylvia fought to stay calm. 
'They're thicker near the ground, ' she said. 'Kill the 
skeeters, pump more gas into the bags and climb. '
Two skeeters still lived. Their rotors slowed within rings of 
fire. Stopped. Flaming bees spiralled past the front window 
like dying stars.
Hendrick flinched back. 'They can't get in, ' Sylvia said. 
'Another fifteen minutes and we'll be above them. Then 
we can start the skeeters again. '
'Gauges say we lost our tail engine, ' he said pessimisti-
cally. 'I don't know... '
'We've got two left, ' she said. 'And they'll just have to 
be enough. Three hours, maybe four... I just hope the 
kids can survive that long. '
Ruth was covered in blankets from head to foot. She knew 
where she was going, and didn't need to lift her head. She 
had walked this path a thousand times.
The chamel pen.
Something was going on behind her. A sputtering of 
flame. She could hear it, but she didn't dare look. Her toe 
stubbed something. Bones. She couldn't look, couldn't let 
her fear overwhelm her. It would have been entirely too 
easy.
Her hands, swathed in blankets, touched the chamel 
pen. Tarzan?' she called, and then raised her voice more,


hoping that the blankets didn't muffle it too much. 
'Tarzan!'
She had seen the chamels changing colour, and guessed 
that they would be alive and safe. When she heard a ten-
tative pawing to her call, she knew that her favourite was 
alive. More to the point, even in the midst of this horror 
Tarzan still responded to her.
Something was nuzzling her hand. She didn't dare look. 
She was terrified at the thought of what bees could do to 
her eyes. Behind her, fire flared like a lightning strike. Bits 
of flaming bee spattered her blankets. She groaned in terror, 
then recovered and climbed across the fence. Tarzan let 
her mount him, then moved toward the locked gate. She 
reached out and felt her way to the gate, undid the latch, 
and Tarzan nudged it open.
Instantly the chamel tried to gallop for open space. She 
turned him around by wrenching with all of her strength, 
and started him back into the camp.
She was disoriented, and had to risk a peek now, no 
matter how much she loathed the idea. With one blanket-
swathed hand she peeled up a slit in the blanket, just 
barely enough to admit light. Good. There was the mess 
hall, and there the quad... and there was the shack 
where Edgar would be.
Tarzan, camouflaged blue, made his way slowly across the 
encampment. Around him bees flew, panicked now. One 
of the buildings had finally managed to catch fire. When 
wind blew bees through the flames they exploded, carrying 
the destruction further. The only thing that saved them was 
the partial dampness of the wood. Flaming bits of bee 
landed in the moist wooden slats and smouldered or sput-
tered to greater, more dangerous life.
When Ruth reached Edgar's storage shed she turned 
Tarzan and climbed carefully off his back. She pulled


571
570
 


down on his reins, and jerked. The chamel bucked up in 
the air once, twice. His heels slammed back into the door, 
chipping and then splintering wood. The door ripped free 
from the jamb.
Ruth heard Edgar scream. She hurried to him with the 
second blanket. He wrapped himself in it, and she helped 
him to his feet. Then she helped him onto Tarzan and 
climbed on after him. She risked a peek to orient herself. 
The radio shack. They had to make it that far. Something 
crawled into her makeshift cowl, and she struck at it, felt it 
bite her. She grabbed it with her fist and squeezed as 
hard as she could. It wriggled and popped.
Tarzan was running now, screaming in pain. She 
peered down. He was fading! Stress, fatigue and fear had 
combined to rob him of his protective coloration. There 
were bees all over him, and she watched with dismay as 
they tore at his flesh. They pitched headlong into the 
street, driving the breath from her lungs, tangling her up 
with Edgar. Bees swarmed in on the helpless Tarzan, now 
reverting to his native tan colour. And then he was 
streaked with red.
Edgar helped her to her feet, still swathed in his blanket. 
Together, they limped through the street and up the ramp 
to the radio room. The two of them staggered through the 
door.
They slammed it behind them and collapsed to the 
floor, screaming.
Something was hitting her, striking her, swatting at 
her. And Edgar. When she dared to open her eyes, she saw 
Carey Lou and Heather McKennie dancing, dancing. The 
floor was littered with dead bees.
The two kids were shaking. She looked at her hands. 
Streaked and torn. Edgar looked worse, but it was mostly 
cosmetic, except for a runnel along his upper thigh which 
oozed blood steadily. But they were alive.


'Robor is coming, ' Carey Lou said. 'I got Sylvia on the 
comlink. '
An hour later the rain began again. As swiftly as they had 
appeared, the bees seemed to disappear, going to ground 
or taking to the trees.
Edgar was recovered enough to take control of the 
communications. He managed to reestablish a link with 
Geographic.
'Robor, ' he said. 'It looks like the safest way for you to 
make it down is through the western defile, follow the 
ridge. ' He had collapsed into one of the command chairs. 
His face had swollen until only one eye was functional. 
They were running out of time. When this rain stopped, 
the bees would be back. And back. And back.
The door to the communications room opened and 
Justin, Carlos and Katya crowded in. They were followed 
by other survivors, looking utterly bedraggled.
'Robor, this is Shangri-La... '
Robor was almost two thousand feet above normal cruising 
altitude. Here there was no fear of bees and the skeeter 
engines roared once again.
They managed to lash down about half the cargo in 
the dirigible's holds before the first of the winds struck 
them. It grew almost unnoticeably, a slow swell of 
rhythm, an interruption of the steady burr of the skeeter 
engines.
Then the rain hit like a solid wall of air. The stabilizers 
groaned, and Robor lurched and wobbled as he moved 
north on his mercy mission. The engines cried out, the 
wind slamming against him so brutally that it seemed to 
those aboard him that their entire world was coming to 
pieces.


573
572
 


But, a kilometre at a time, Robor fought his way down 
from Deadwood Pass. He was coming.
Justin walked out slowly into the rain, to examine the 
bodies. He counted a dozen Star Born who hadn't reached 
shelter in time. Who hadn't had kevlar sacks or Cadzie 
Blue blankets. What was it with those blankets?
He kept searching until he found what he was looking 
for.
There wasn't much left, but he recognized the clothes. 
He would have known her even had there been less left.
Katya was somewhere behind him. Perhaps she thought 
of speaking, then thought better of it. Justin knelt in the 
rain and took his coat off. Slowly he draped it over what 
was left of his sister, his love.
Then he gathered the bundle of red bones gently into 
his arms and carried it out of the rain.
The weather had died to a slight drizzle when Robor 
finally appeared. The camp - what was left of it - was 
almost silent. Sixty-three survivors waited, faces upturned in 
the rain.
Robor was moored and the exodus began. They passed 
the bodies - what was left of them - hand over hand.
And, when the last of them was aboard, the rain had 
almost ceased. They could hear the buzz as the bees awak-
ened.
Sylvia stood beside him, holding his arm. Her son 
seemed almost like a stranger, so intense was his focus.
'He's out there, ' Justin said.
'Who?'
'Aaron. He's out there. '
'He's dead, ' she said.
Justin shook his head. 'He's not lucky enough to be


dead. Yet. ' He screamed out of Robor's door: 'I'll be back, 
you bastard! I swear to God I'll be back, and I'll kill you!' 
She pried him carefully away from the door, and closed ii 
on the camp, the shattered shell of Avalon's dreams. Anil 
then they lifted away.
The rain started again and the bees still huddled in the for-
est, awaiting their time. The chamels had been set free 
and were returning to the plains. The horses and other 
livestock were all dead.
For a few moments there was no sound, no movement, . 
md then the mud stirred.
Aaron Tragon rolled half-free of the mud. His eyes 
were wild and staring, almost sightless. He wasn't certain 
where he was. The chamels had trampled him on their 
way out and he was badly concussed. His eyes wouldn't 
locus. He had to move. Had to hide. The bees would 
come back.
Soon. They would.
But his eyes wouldn't focus.
He flopped over onto his stomach, and tried to crawl 
away. There was something coming. Death was coming. 
He couldn't think. He couldn't move. But it was there.
Cadmann. Jessica. Toshiro. More. More. So much 
death. He hadn't meant for this. Chaka. Wait, Chaka 
wasn't dead. Was he?
His mind wouldn't work. So much death. He stood, 
bent far over around broken ribs. He staggered through 
the streets of Shangri-La, the camp that he had schemed 
and stolen and killed to build. It was destroyed. Empty. 
Robor was retiring into the distance, grinning like some 
vast grendel, floating away.
He heard a noise behind him. He was too tired, too 
confused to turn.


575
574
 


It was the grendel. The Grendel God. He felt a wave of 
fear, of freedom, approaching. His judgement. His salva-
tion. He spread his arms and exposed his throat.
And then the grendel came to him. And she said... 
Cadmann.
And the grendel took him by the throat, and she said... 
Chaka.
And the grendel devoured him, saying... Jessica.
And in the grendel he saw her heart, and the heart beat, 
saying... Toshiro.
And he passed into darkness and into death, and the 
grendel spake unto him, and she said...
Aaron.
We are one...


41 - Choices
-But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary 
gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
William Wordsworth, 'Intimations of
Immortality from Recollections of Early
Childhood' (1807)


ft was a beautiful day for a memorial, Justin thought. Tau 
shone down on the Bluff, on the land that Cadmann 
Weyland had cleared, planted, tilled by hand... on the 
louse that he had built with the sweat of his back.
And, if he turned around, Justin could gaze down on 
the colony itself. See the crosshatch of roads that 
Cadmann had burned into the ground. The maze of 
homes he had helped erect. It was a place of love and life, 
crowded with babies to whom Cadmann Weyland was 
godfather or guardian or honorary uncle.
The Bluff wasn't crowded. The public funeral had been 
held a week before. This was just family. Just the kids and 
Cadmann's wives and Katya, and Carlos.
Just the ones who had loved the old man - and Jessica.
Jessica.
'We're here today' - he steadied his voice as much as he 
could - 'to say goodbye to two people we love. ' He


576
577
 


stopped, dug his hands into his pockets. A sad, crooked 
smile plucked at his lips. 'Isn't that just the way it is? No 
matter how much we say to someone while they're alive, 
there's always more to say. That's the tragedy of it... but 
that's the joy, too. '
He looked out at the mourners. They were seated in 
two rows of folding chairs. Carlos sat next to Sylvia, holding 
Cadzie, the sleeping child wrapped in a bright blue 
blanket. Sylvia held Mary Ann's hand. Mary Ann was 
pasty-faced and so grief-stricken that she hardly seemed 
able to breath.
'Dad, ' Justin said, 'I can still talk to you, when I need 
to. And I will. We all will. Jessica-'
And here his words faded for a minute. There were 
things that he wanted to say: You made the wrong choice, 
Jessie. You chose the wrong side. And in the end, you 
didn't think fast enough. God. I'll miss your smile, your 
laugh. I'll never forget those short kisses we shared, not 
even when they put me in the ground next to you. I loved 
you, Jessie. Maybe it wouldn't have made a goddam bit of 
difference, but I should have told you. Maybe if I had, 
maybe if I'd found the right way to say it, you'd still be 
alive...
Katya was smiling at him. Katya, who loved him and 
wanted to bear his children. Katya, who must never know 
what his heart had just revealed to him.
Justin realized he had stopped speaking. He felt as if his 
mouth were packed with cotton. He had to say something. 
Anything.
Why was life so goddam hard?
'Jessica, ' he lied, his voice breaking, 'you were my sister. '
Sylvia found Mary Ann in the master bedroom. In 
Cadmann's bedroom. Mary Ann sat on the edge of the bed, 
staring at the wall. Her hair looked not blonde, but white.


'Mary Ann?' she said quietly. 'Are you all right?'
Mary Ann looked up slowly. She smiled, a sweet smile, 
and patted the bed next to her. Even that motion looked 
11red. Sylvia thought that this was the first time that Mary 
Ann had actually looked old.
'He... loved you more, you know, ' Mary Ann said.
Sylvia started to speak, to say something reflexively, 
but Mary Ann shushed her. 'No. He was too much of a 
gentleman ever to break his commitment to me. But he 
loved you more. If honour hadn't been the core of that 
man, he would have left me. But he felt... obliged. '
She smiled again. Her cheeks looked waxen. 'I let you 
into my marriage, dear, for him. To hold onto him. If 
you were here, he wouldn't have to go to you secretly. 
He would have done that eventually, you know. And 
people would have talked. And felt sorry for me. I don't 
think that I could have survived that. So I let you in. And 
he stayed. Because he had no reason to go, don't you 
see?'
Sylvia reached out and took her hand. Regretfully, but 
firmly, Mary Ann pulled it away. 'You have a wonderful 
heart, and you never tried to hurt me. ' She paused, then 
said matter-of-factly, 'I've never liked you, you know. '
Sylvia waited until the silence grew too painful, then 
told the truth. 'I know. '
'I've thought about asking you to move out. But it 
wouldn't be right. '
Sylvia stiffened a bit. 'If you want me to go, I will. '
Mary Ann smiled. 'I don't like you, Sylvia. But you 
have been a sister to me, for years. And you never tried to 
hurt me. I don't like you. But I do love you. '
The room was very quiet. Mary Ann leaned forward 
and kissed Sylvia's cheek.
Then she lay back on the bed, in the middle of the bed 
that she had shared with Cadmann for so many years, in


578
579
 


which she had borne him children, and curled up onto her 
side.
When she spoke, her voice was very, very soft. 'I'd like 
to rest now, if you don't mind, ' she said. 'I don't know 
why, but I get tired so easily these days. '
Sylvia rose from the bed and walked to the door, pausing 
to look back. Mary Ann's eyes were closed. She might have 
been asleep already, except for the very soft gasping sound 
she made as she cried out her goodbye to the man she had 
loved.
Sylvia closed the door behind her, and sagged against it, 
exhausted. She wanted to cry but the tears just hadn't 
come, as if fatigue were mourning enough. Somewhere 
within her there must be tears for Cadmann, for Jessica, 
for Mary Ann and for herself. But they eluded her. Now 
she fought to find the place within her which held tears for 
Aaron, the son she had never held.
She could not find them.
She had never told him, and now she never could. And 
almost no one knew the truth. Certainly Aaron had not. 
But Sylvia knew. And her mother's heart knew that her 
love might have gentled him, nurtured him, even as her 
rational mind begged her not to carry that weight into her 
life. It was too much for one person to bear.
What would Cadmann want?
/ want you to live, he said in a voice so clear he might 
have been standing beside her. Death comes soon enough. 
Live, my love, and be a comfort to Mary Ann. Live, and 
know I loved you more than I could ever say. I only hope 
you knew.
'I knew, ' she whispered. 'I always knew. '
Edgar led them into the kitchen/computer room. He felt


i 
hem 
stop 
in 
the 
door
way
, 
and 
turn
ed 
to 
wat
ch 
their 
reac
tion.
They had walked into an Avalon beehive.
Cassandra and the Chakas had constructed it on a one-to-
one scale. The hologram space was much larger than i he 
kitchen itself. They had set off their insecticide bombs, 
placed their cameras, set off their monotone sirens and 
recorded the sonics passing through the nest, all before the 
final swarming. Between the computer imaging and the 
fiberoptic cameras, they had managed to map virtually 
the entire bee colony.
It was like a volcano, with branching side-pockets and 
rooms for the infants, breeding grounds, and a huge 
queen chamber. The creatures lay dead in heaps of thou-
sands.
For that instant they were stopped by the wonder of it. 
Then Edgar's family pushed in behind him.
Edgar moved to the keyboard.
Ruth was just behind him, chin on his shoulder. Her 
body was starting to swell in earnest. Her father was trying 
to peer between them without getting too friendly with 
Edgar himself. Her mother Rachael hung back a little: she 
must be feeling claustrophobic too. And Trish was on the 
other side of Edgar, in contact along his whole left Hank, 
and damn, it was hard to concentrate.
He felt barely able to move. His home had seemed big 
enough, too big even, when it had been Edgar alone.
But his fingers remembered. The bee nest faded. Then 
the holostage ran through a rapid sequence of scenes while 
Edgar played tour guide.
'Shangri-La is essentially dead, ' Edgar said. 'The 
instruments we left there make it a test case for what's 
happening to the continent.
'Not a living plant anywhere. The crops are gone right 
down to the dirt. You don't see any bees now, but any


580
581
 


time something living comes in range, the bees boil out 
and strip it.
'This is of interest, though. Something big - grendel-
sized - pushed in the door to that storehouse. Inside-' 
Dammit, he'd forgotten the code.
Trish reached past him and tapped. The screen went 
dark, nearly. 'The lights are burned out, ' she said.
'Yeah, but look around. Near the back, a lot of cans 
are missing, and soft drinks too. That's a hot plate over 
here, and whoever was using it kept the area clean. He's 
gone now, I think. Aaron. '
Zack said, 'It may be you've got Aaron on the brain, 
Edgar. All three of you. '
Zack, Rachael, Ruth, Edgar, Trish. They had to be 
together, but it was awkward. They kept adjusting their 
positions. Edgar could talk to Trish, Ruth could talk to 
her lover and her mother, Zack could talk to Rachael, 
and if Zack wanted to know about mainland conditions 
he had to talk to his son-in-law.
'I was never sure, ' Edgar said. 'I told myself he set me 
up to fall out of that tree, but I was never sure until he 
killed Colonel Weyland. Now I want his blood. '
Ruth said nothing.
Trish asked, 'Uncle Zack? Don't you want Aaron 
dead?'
Zack said, 'What are things like elsewhere?'
Bracketed between Ruth and Trish... Edgar had had 
daydreams like this, sandwished, but he'd never dreamed 
of there being parents-in-law present. Edgar wondered if 
Trish was enjoying this. He was just glad he'd cleaned 
the place up.
He tapped and the view jumped. 'That was a chain of 
grendel lakes, dammed lakes, when we planted the camera. 
' The lakes were a wide muddy river now. Edgar's cursor 
indicated a distant dust devil dancing through


stripped trees. 'Bees, ' he said. 'There aren't any more gren-
dels here. Some samlon, maybe, but as soon as they come 
on land, sszzz. Even the beaver grendels must be eating 
their young now. It's the only way a grendel can stay alive 
while these death winds are blowing. And that is how 
Avalon evolution set you up, Zack. '
He tapped again. Now the view looked across sparse, 
tall grass, with water gleaming in the distance. 'Any idea 
where you are?'
'The Scribeveldt, ' Zack said.
'Yup. On the back of a Scribe. Katya set a skeeter down 
on Asia's back and left a camera. '
'Huh, ' said Zack. He watched for a few seconds. 'Is 
that a pterodon nest?'
'More like six, but I haven't seen a pterodon since I 
started monitoring this. Then again, Asia has been easing 
her way toward the river. As long as the Scribes don't all 
go down to the river at once, the pterodons can commute. 
Asia will get her pterodons back when she leaves. '
'Edgar, is that guesswork?'
'Pretty much. '
Trish asked, 'How close do the Scribes get to water? 
You still get pictures from orbit-'
'The paths still avoid each other. I think they don't 
want to mate. There are bees everywhere. They don't 
bother the Scribes much-'
'You can't go back to Shangri-La, ' Zack said. 'Tell you 
what, Edgar. Work up a scenario. Your next colony on the 
mainland is in the Scribeveldt. '
Edgar turned to see if his lover's father were serious. 
From many objections he picked one at random. 'It's out 
of Robor's range. We'd have to set up staging points-'
'Fine. In a couple of years your first staging point can 
be the minehead, or Shangri-La. You left supplies in both 
places, and-'


582
583
 


Trish burst out laughing. Her hand closed hard on 
Edgar's shoulder and shook gently. 'Soft One, how can 
you not love it? We'll put little tent-towns on the knolls. 
They're not big, and the Scribes go around them and the 
grendels can't reach them-'
Edgar was studying Zack. He'd never seen the old man 
smiling like that. A mad smile. 'Zack, didn't you use to be 
really conservative?'
'Sure. A little stodgy, maybe? Just do the best plan you 
can, Edgar. If it looks crazy we won't do it. '
Ice on his mind. But - Rachael and Ruth exchanged 
glances, a secret look Edgar knew he'd better learn to 
interpret.
Rachael Moskowitz didn't have ice on her mind. And 
she'd supported Zack in power since before Edgar Sikes 
was born. But Zack kept making mistakes... well, one 
mistake, one back-breaker of a mistake, and ever since 
then-
Ever since then, every time he was challenged, Zack 
backed down. That was the problem, that was why his 
brain seemed riddled with ice crystals. He'd withdrawn his 
objections to the mainland colony. Was he regretting that 
now?
'Hell, we can live on the Scribes' backs!' Trish crowed. 
Zack nodded, just listening as she babbled. Trish loved 
the Scribeveldt colony. When Trish fell in love with an 
idea, she fell hard. She'd do most of Edgar's work for 
him. But had he, had they all, totally misunderstood the 
First?
Edgar burst out, 'Zack! What was it with those freezing 
blankets?'
They all looked at him as if he were crazy. Zack told 
him, 'We kind of don't like that word. '
'I kind of don't like f... f... soggy mysteries. Zack, 
you, the First, were always so sure it was Cadzie Blue that


saved the baby. Why? I mean it's a neat answer, it turns 
out to be the colour-coding for poison-'
'Elegant, ' Zack said. 'You learned that word from the 
math classes, didn't you? Any solution that elegant has to 
be right. Except when it isn't. ' The old man laughed.
'Zack, Cadzie Blue is darker than the colour-coding tor 
poison. '
'Is it really?'
'You saw it. Everyone on Camelot got videotapes of 
Asia through the war specs. We sent you photos. Aaron 
cut a great swath of Asia's lip and laid it across all those 
blankets. It's too pale. ' And why was he devilling an old 
man with ice on his mind? Edgar saw Ruth and Rachael 
listening and was embarrassed.
But Zack said, 'Ah. '
"What?'
'Edgar, when you get old enough, you get a feel for pat-
terns. Being smart doesn't do it. Only experience works. 
That pattern-sense was all we had. What you just said, 
nobody had said that before, just that way, to me.
'Stretch a piece of Scribe's lip in sunlight, it's too pale. 
Take pictures with a flash camera, it's too pale. Watch a 
Scribe through war specs, and by the time Cassandra gets 
through with the pictures-'
'It's too pale. Ice me down now, Lord. '
'See, Edgar, the Scribe's lip is always underneath that 
overhang of shell, always in shadow. The bees see it as 
darker. Aaron took it into daylight-'
'And the flash on the camera lights it up, and 
Cassandra thoughtfully corrected the colour for us, but I 
can check that part right now, Zack. Cassandra!'
The reconquest of the mainland was two years in the plan-
ning.


585
584
 


EPILOGUE
The Scribeveldt had been too wet for going on two 
years. Vast patches of grass had died. The Scribes were 
fewer, perhaps because they had stopped breeding; but 
some of those camouflaged trapezoids didn't move. The 
camera on Asia's back had rolled past one huge empty 
shell.
Now the veldt was drying off, grass was spreading 
again, and the paths Cassandra could see from orbit were 
forming knots.
'Everything is breeding like mad, ' Edgar told the 
colonists in the assembly hall, and the greater number 
who were in only virtual attendance. 'I can't see any reason 
not to begin the conquest of the mainland with the 
Scribeveldt. And I see no reason not to go now. '
And the questions began.
'We'll establish dumps at Shangri-La and Eden both. 
They're close together - they can serve as alternate routes. 
We don't want any cities there the next time Tau Ceti 
goes into maximum, but they're safe now. '
And continued.
'Sure, grendels. We'll want to stay clear of the rivers, 
but we can run pipes...
'There's no trace of bees, anywhere we've got cameras. 
Nobody thinks they're extinct, but they must have died 
back...
'Before we build anything permanent in the Scribeveldt, 
we've prepared some hardened cameras. I want to know 
what lives under the Scribes...
'Aaron? Well, something raided the stores at Shangri-La 
until they were almost gone. That was two years back. 
Your guess...
'The blankets? Yeah, Uncle Zack figured that out ages 
ago, and he was right. Zack, you want to explain that? 
Remember to talk slow for these people. '


586
 


The Shaman
Two Years Later
Chaka scanned the Bluff, finding no evidence of a grendel 
presence.
'We're clear, ' he said. With Trish and Carey Lou watching 
shotgun, he rappelled down the side of the cliff into the 
water. The samlon were young. There would be only one 
grendel in this area, and that one was... well, curious.
They searched much of the day. It was Chaka who 
found it, and called Justin.
A human skull, cracked and chewed, but human.
Justin took it from Chaka gently. He folded it to his 
chest and sank to his knees in the water, eyes half-closing. 
No one spoke. After almost a minute he slipped it lovingly 
into a plastic bag. Before Tau Ceti slipped below the hori-
zon, they found part of a pelvis and a few more bones, 
and that was all. Justin looked around the river and then 
said: 'All right. Let's go. '
Chaka nodded, and they rode the winch up the cliff-
face and didn't say anything more until they reached the 
skeeter.
589


Sylvia met them back at the camp. She was greyer now, 
but just as tall, her face more stern. Since Mary Ann's 
death a year before, she was, more than any other woman 
in the camp, the matriarch. She had slipped into that role 
unwillingly, but with authority.
Carlos stood behind her, his left hand resting lightly on 
her shoulder.
It was almost dark, and the evening wind plucked at 
the edges of her coat as she waited for them to disembark. 
Justin stopped a metre away from her, his hands filled 
with the remains of his father, her husband, a plastic bag 
wrapped in black cloth.
Sylvia took the bag as if it were made of spun glass. 
'We'll bury him on the Bluff, ' she said.
Carlos nodded. 'Exactly what he would have wanted. ' 
He squeezed her shoulder. 'I have an urn, ' he said quietly. 'I 
have worked on it for a year. I would like to show it to 
you. '
Suddenly, Sylvia's eyes burned. She closed them hard. 
Now was not the time. Later perhaps. Now she would be 
strong for Carlos, as he had been strong for her. They had 
lost almost equally. Not quite. But almost.
'There is only one more thing to do, then I can go 
home, ' Little Chaka said. Big Chaka was back on 
Camelot Island, too infirm for travel now. He spent 
most of the time at Surf's Up, puttering, writing his 
memoirs and training the two new dolphins. Little 
Chaka didn't really like being away from his father for 
extended periods.
Edgar and Ruth were beside them. Scully followed her 
with a tight fist on her skirt. Ruth's son, and Edgar's. The 
genetics might have been Aaron's but Edgar had been 
there to help deliver Scully. As far as he was concerned, he 
was the father.
'How do we go about this?' Edgar said.


'We are going to find a skeleton, or we are going to find 
Aaron, ' Justin said. 'One or the other. But I want to know 
that he is dead. It ends. '
Chaka cocked his rifle. 'It ends. '
They searched all that day and into the night, and found 
no trace. They knew Aaron had survived the bees. The 
storehouse in Shangri-La had been raided regularly for 
canned goods. But, though they scoured by skeeter and by 
foot, with Cassandra's eyes and with hunting dogs, over 
swamp, veldt, mountain and river, of Aaron himself there 
was no trace.
On the third day, just as the hunting parties were quitting 
for the day, dogs barked and guards yelled at the southern 
end of the camp.
Two figures approached a rebuilt section of fence. One 
was human. One definitely was not.
Justin was barely aware of Chaka and Trish at his side, 
Sylvia behind him, as he ran to the fence. With every step, 
the hated face and form of his enemy grew clearer. All the 
world seemed to focus down to this one man, his entire 
life to this single moment.
Aaron walked with the help of a crutch. His right leg 
looked as if it had been broken and badly set. His once 
beautiful face was scarred and puckered with pink weals. 
His left eye was glazed and sightless.
The grendel... God, the grendel... walked alongside 
him.
Without thinking, Justin had raised his rifle to the 
ready. Chaka pushed it aside. 'Wait, ' he said breathlessly. 
'Wait. '
Aaron turned and spoke to the grendel in a clear, com-
manding voice. 'Stay. '
And it did. It squatted, waiting. A whisper ran through


590
591
 


those assembled. There was just no believing this.
'Aaron Tragon. I arrest you for murder-'
Aaron laughed in his face.
'That is so like you, Justin, ' he said in his calmest, clearest 
voice. 'Trying to arrest someone who isn't here. '
Justin was dumbstruck. 'What? What are you trying to 
pull now? Whatever it is-'
'Aaron is dead, ' Aaron said. 'Dead. Aaron is eaten. ' 
He smiled, and looked out at them as if what he had said 
made sense. Just exactly as if it had made sense. Justin 
wanted to laugh. But couldn't. And didn't like that at all.
Aaron looked at them as if they were his dearest 
friends, long-lost kin with whom he yearned to share a 
deep and precious secret. It was damned strange. 'I can 
give to you what you have always wanted, ' he said confi-
dently.
Trish finally spoke. 'And what the hell is that?'
'Peace, ' he said. 'Peace with the beasts. ' He turned. 
'Come, ' he said.
And the grendel came and sat by him. It made that 
cooing sound.
'Yes, ' Aaron said to it. 'They are afraid. You are afraid. 
It is a place of fear. '
Justin's head spun. Hatred and confusion and a strange 
excitement so intense it felt like nausea welled up strongly 
enough to cause vertigo. He turned to Chaka. 'He's crazy. 
Just plain nuts!'
Chaka said, 'Are you sure? And what difference does it 
make? Can you talk to grendels?'
Trish's arm trembled. Her rifle went up, but Chaka's 
hand closed on the barrel.
'No!' Chaka said. 'You have no right. If anyone has the 
right, it is Justin. ' He paused, that confusion entering his 
voice as if it were an emotional virus. 'Justin - what do 
you say?'


Justin could barely move, couldn't think. An 
intelligent grendel. And a human being who could 
communicate will) it. What would his father have given 
for this? He could blow this insane bastard's head off right 
now-
And betray everything that Cadmann had lived for.
'God dammit, kill him' Trish screamed. 'Don't you 
realize it's just another of his con games? If you let him 
live, he'll own this planet in ten years!'
Aaron's smile was fond, but remote, the thin smile of 
one who sees more than anyone else and knows he will 
never be understood. 'Trish, no one owns this planet, ' he 
said. 'Neither human nor grendel. And least of all the 
man who was Aaron Tragon. But together... '
Nightmare, Justin thought. What would Colonel 
Weyland have done? We think we know so much more 
than they do, but-
'Keep him safe, ' Justin said. 'We need to ask Zack. '
Trish and Edgar took Aaron's arms and led him away. 
He halted them when he came to Sylvia, and they stood 
and waited for him as if he were still the master. 'I am 
sorry for what Aaron did, ' he said. 'You will want to 
know that Cadmann died well. ' He nodded to his guards 
and limped away.
Sylvia watched as the procession receded. Her shoul-
ders slumped. Suddenly unbidden and unstoppably, the 
rears she had not cried for two years streamed down her 
cheeks in a cleansing torrent. As if a dam within her had 
suddenly given way. As if, in some manner she didn't 
understand, Aaron Tragon had given her the greatest gift of 
her life.
Chaka gingerly approached the grendel and knelt by it. 
She watched him in return. Amazed at his own daring he 
actually reached out and ran his fingers over her pebbled 
skin, felt the living fire within, and marvelled. 'It is you,


592
593
 


isn't it, Old Girl? Name of God, ' he whispered. 'What are 
we going to do with you?'
Old Grendel felt peaceful. Working together, she and the 
Strongest Weird had survived the bad times. Now the 
dark one she had saved before would stand between her 
and the others. Would protect her as she had protected the 
dark one.
This was strangeness. But these weirds worked together 
like dam builders. She knew things. Could show them, 
perhaps. And as she grew older, and not so able to hunt, 
perhaps they would help her in turn.
She wondered about the Strongest Weird. For two 
years they had lived together, and she had begun to under-
stand some of the weird's sounds. The world of vocal 
communication was another explosion of strangeness. She 
wondered what they would do with that one. Strongest 
Weird was a God of some kind. Perhaps they were all 
Strongest Weird's children.
She didn't know. But the Death Wind was dwindling. 
More Bad Times would come, but they would find some-
thing new in the world.
Grendels. Weirds. Together.
594
