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mine, and he isn't,' the sergeant said at his gruffest. 'Not that I wish he
weren't, Kris,' he added hastily.
"I mean, I'd've been honoured if you'd wanted to, but . . . well, hell, you
know what I mean."
"Yes, I do, Chuck."
"So who is the lucky guy?" 'Remember that hooch Leon and Mayock made, about
the time I broke my arm?" 'Yeah, I do,' and Mitford looked surprised, then he
scowled deeply.
"You mean you got raped and never reported it?" His fists clenched as if he
held the neck of the offender within them.
Kris patted one such fist gently. 'I don't know about any rape.
But I do know I was very, very drunk." Chuck frowned. 'Pete Easley took you
back to your cabin, didn't he?" 'He may have, Chuck, but I don't recall a
thing - and perhaps that's as well, don't you think?"
"No, I don't."
"Can't do anything about it. But maybe when Zane grows up, we'll know for
sure. Zainal couldn't care less."
I'
"NO, he couldn't - and you know, the way he's taken this hasn't lost him any
points." Zainal was at that moment changing his foster son's fluff diapers.
The reeds which produced the useful material were being cultivated everywhere
they would grow around Retreat Bay.
The sticky sap that had been such a problem on their last reconnaissance trip
had been harvested and, poured into a mould, made a reasonable facsimile of
waterproof garments for baby use. They could be washed and re-used four or
five times but gradually dissolved, often at the wrong time.
Mitford grinned, watching the anomaly of a Catteni Emassi acting the
nursemaid.
Of the 2,103 new lives expected, all but five made it: two human babies were
stillborn; one of the Rugarian young lived three days and died, but even the
one Rugarian who understood his species' needs could not give a reason; a
fourth was unfortunately strangled by the umbilical cord during delivery, and
the fifth, a Deski, was malformed when it hatched and did not survive.
The promised creches were opened, and every female had the right to leave
their youngling in the general care for her day's work or whatever community
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service she performed. Sometimes it was creche duty. Kris started the fad of
the papoose board, dredging that up from reading
Westerns and historical novels about Indians. It worked well for babies up to
three months, and for shorter periods after that.
"I said you will be a good mother,' Zainal said with a touch of smug pride
when she showed him how she could carry Zane around.
To Kris's astonishment, she didn't find caring for Zane as onerous as she had
expected, and that had little to do with Zainal's enthusiasm for the child.
She had never had anything so completely dependent on her, so trusting, and so
precious to her. Once or twice, she wondered if she was being unfair to Pete
Easley by not telling him.
But he and one of the Swedish Aggies
.
had made bricks together, which was equivalent to becoming engaged on
Botany. If Kris caught him looking very carefully at her son, she ignored the
query in his eyes and babbled on about how good a father
Zainal was until even Pete Easley got bored.
The baby boom sparked a lot of investigations and experiments - a fine powder
for talcum, an ointment for diaper and other minor rashes, a way to weave some
of the vegetable fibres into cloth for proper baby-clothes, and a
spinning-wheel to make knitting yarn out of the loo-cow hairs. The creatures
had grown longer coats for protection during the colder weather. These were
collected - before the night-crawlers could - and spun, then washed and/or
felled.
The crops grew lush and green on both continents. The Catteni continued to do
nothing in their valley. The miners excavated tons of iron, copper, tin,
zinc, lead, gold andsilver - and occasionally some unusual clear stones which
the jewellers thought a variant of tourmaline. But then, no-one was looking
for gemstones or in the places where rubies, emeralds, sapphires or diamonds -
which would have been useful for their hardness - might be found.
Bone was more useful, and the heavy bones in the four rearlegs of the loo-cows
were scrupulously cleaned and dried for carving.
Zane was just five months old when the Deski sentinel startled everyone on the
south side of Retreat Bay with a warning warble. For such a slender species,
with no great lung space, they could make a god-awful amount of noise. The
baby was teething so Kris was awake, trying to soothe him. Zainal's comunit
buzzed and he shot straight up in bed, alert, unit to his ear before she could
take a single step to intercept.
"WHAT?" He was on his feet and hopping about on one foot, listening as he
pulled on his coverall. Even in such a ridiculous pose, Kris admired his
physique. If only Zane could have osmosed a single gene from his foster
father . . .
"It's down,' Zainal added, as he closed the hand-unit and concentrated on
dressing himself as fast as possible.
"What's down?" 'The Balloon." He had both boots on now and was starting for
the door.
"I'm coming, too,' she said.
"Not like that!" He raked her with a disapproving look, for she was draped in
a blanket.
She thrust Zane at his father and dressed as quickly as he, retrieved the
blanket and two spare reed-pods and was inserting the baby into the sling she
usually carried him in even as she settled into a passenger seat of the
air-cushion truck. Zainal spun the control wheel and the vehicle charged off
into the crepuscular light of dawn towards the hangar. Lights were coming up
throughout the settlement and occasionally someone called out, 'What's the
matter?" when Zainal was identified at the wheel.
N
"The Balloon is just down?" she asked as they sped along.
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"Desk) heard something, not like anything else they have heard,' Zainal was
saying, 'and warned the bridge. The bridge watch had already seen something
on the screen, but couldn't make out what." 'The Farmers?"
Kris asked, scared to the pit of her stomach as she jiggled her son.
Motion always put him to sleep, even upset with teething as he was, and even
this short trip worked its magic on him.
Those alerted were arriving on air cushion, running as fast as they could and
often faster than the basic push-bikes which had been developed for
short-distance transportation. Pneumatic tyres were still to be perfected,
but the iron rims did well enough on the flagstone and dirt tracks and were
speedier than walking.
All the lights in the hangar were on, and the hatches on the KDL, Baby and the
office were open. Runabouts were parked helter-skelter.
Zainal guided Kris to the of rice which was nearest. The bridgei there would
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