Inhabiting new country is always a challenge. As soon as the tenting of Nirgal Vallis was done, Separation de L’Atmosphere set up some of their largest mesocosm aerators, and soon the tent was filled with 500 millibars of a nitrogen-oxygen-argon mix that had been pulled and filtered out of the ambient air, now at 240 millibars. And the settlers started moving in, from Cairo and Senzeni Na, and everywhere else on the two worlds.

First people lived in mobile trailers, next to small portable greenhouses, and while they worked on the soils of the canyon with bacteria and plows, they used the greenhouses to grow their starter crops, and the trees and bamboo they would use to build their houses, and the desert plants they would spread outside the farms. The smectite clays on the canyon floor were a very good base for a soil, though they had to add biota, nitrogen, potassium — there was plenty of phosphorus, and more salts than they wanted, as usual.

So they spent their days augmenting the soil, and growing greenhouse crops, and planting hardy salt-desert plants. They traded all up and down the valley, and little market hamlets sprang up almost the day people moved in, as well as trails between homesteads, and a trunk road running down the middle of the valley, next to the stream. Nirgal Vallis had no aquifer at its head, and so a pipeline from Marineris pumped enough water to the head to start a small stream running. Its waters were collected at the Uzboi Gate and piped back up to the top of the tent again.

The homesteads were about half a hectare each, and almost everyone was trying to grow the bulk of their food on that space. Most divided their land up into six miniature fields, rotating crops and pasturage each season. Everyone had their own theories of cropping and soil augmentation. Most people grew a small cash crop, nuts or fruits or lumber trees. Many kept chickens, some kept sheep, goats, pigs, cows. The cows were almost all miniatures, no bigger than pigs.

They tried to keep the farms down on the canyon floor by the stream, leaving the higher rougher ground under the canyon walls to wild land. They introduced an American Southwest community of desert animals, so that lizards and turtles and jackrabbits began to live nearby, and coyotes, bobcats, and hawks to make depredations among their chickens and sheep. They had an infestation of alligator lizards, then one of toads. Populations slowly settled into their sizes, but there were frequent sharp fluctuations. The plants began to spread on their own. The land began to look as if its life belonged there. The redrock walls stood unchanged, sheer and craggy over the new riverine world.

Saturday morning was market day, and people drove down to the market hamlets in full pickups. One morning in the early winter of ‘42 they gathered in Playa Blanco under dark cloudy skies, to sell late vegetables, and dairy products, and eggs. “You know how you can tell which eggs have live chicks in them — you take them all, and put them in a tub of water, and wait until it’s all gone completely still. Then the eggs that tremble just a little bit are the ones with live chicks in them. You can put those back under the hens, and eat the rest.”

“A cubic meter of hydrogen peroxide is like twelve hundred kilowatt-hours! And besides it weighs a ton and a half. No way you’ll need that much.”

“We’re trying to get it into the parts per billion range, but no luck yet.”

“Centra de Educaciony Tecnologia in Chile, they’ve really done some great work on rotation, you won’t believe it. Come over and see.”

“Storm coming.”

“We keep bees too.”

“Maja is Nepali, Bahram is Farsi, Mawrth is Welsh. Yeah, it does sound like a lisp, but I’m probably not pronouncing it right. Welsh spelling is bizarre. They probably pronounce it Moth, or Mart, or Mars.”

Then word spread through the marketplace, leaping from group to group like a fire. “Nirgal is here! Nirgal is here! He’s going to talk at the pavilion—”

And there he was, walking fast at the head of a growing crowd, greeting old friends and shaking hands with people who approached him. Everyone in the hamlet followed him, jamming into the pavilion and volleyball court at the western end of the market. Wild howls rang out over the crowd buzz.

Nirgal stood on a bench and began to speak. He talked about their valley, and the other new tented land on Mars, and what it meant. But as he was getting to the larger situation of the two worlds, the storm overhead broke big-time. Lightning began to stab all the lightning rods, and in quick succession they saw rain, snow, sleet, and then mud.

The tenting over the valley was pitched as steep as a church roof, and dust and fines were repelled by the static charge of its piezoelectric outer layer; rain ran right off it, and snow slid down and piled up against the bottom of the sides, forming drifts that were blown away by huge robotic snowplows with long angled blower extensions, which rolled up and down the foundation road during snowstorms. Mud, however, was a problem. Mixed with the snow it formed cold, concrete-hard packs on the tenting just above the foundation, and this dense pack could get heavy enough’to cause tent failure — it had happened once before in the north.’

So when this storm turned ugly, and the light in the canyon was like the color of a branch, Nirgal said, “We’d better get up there,” and they all piled into the trucks and drove to the nearest elevator that ran up inside the canyon wall to the rim. Up on top the people who knew how took over the snowplows and drove them by hand, with the great blowers now spraying steam over the drifts to wash them off the tenting. Everyone else teamed up and took hand-pulled steam carts out, and worked on moving the piles of sludge brought down by the snowplows away from the foundation. This was what Nirgal helped with, running around with a steam hose like he was placing some strenuous new sport. No one could keep up his pace, but quickly they were all thigh-deep in cold swirling mud, with winds over J50, and solid low black clouds spitting more mud down on them all the time. The winds surged to 180 kilometers an hour, but no one minded; it helped clear the tent of the mud. They made sweep after sweep, moving east with the wind, pushing rivers of mud over the drop into uncovered Uzboi Vallis.

When the storm ended, the tenting was fairly clear, but the land on both sides of Nirgal Vallis was deep in frozen mud, and the crews were soaked. They piled back into elevators and dropped to the canyon floor,exhausted and cold, and when they got out at the bottom they looked at each other, entirely black figures except for their faceplates. Nirgal pulled off his helmet and there he was, laughing hard, irrepressible, and when he scooped mud off his helmet and threw it at them, the fight was on. Most found it prudent to keep their helmets on, and it was a strange sight there on the dark floor of that canyon, blind muddy figures throwing clumps of mud at each other and running out into the stream, slipping around as they wrestled and dove.

Maya Hatarina Toitovna woke in a foul mood, disturbed by a dream that she deliberately forgot as she rolled out of bed. Like flushing the toilet after that first trip to the bathroom. Dreams were dangerous. She dressed with her back to the little mirror over the sink, then went downstairs to the dining common. All of Sabishii had been built in its signature Martian/Japanese style, and her neighborhood had the look of a Zen garden, all pine and moss scattered among polished pink boulders. It was beautiful in a spare way that Maya found unpleasant, a kind of rebuke to her wrinkles. She ignored it as best she could, and concentrated on breakfast. The dead boredom of the daily necessities. At another table Vlad and Ursula and Marina were eating with a group of the Sabishii issei. The Sabishiians had all shaved their heads, and in their work jumpers looked like Zen monks. One of them turned on a tiny screen over their table and a Terran news show began, a metana-tional production from Moscow that had the same relationship to reality that Pravda had once had. Some things never changed. This was the English-language version, the speaker’s English better than her own, even after all these years. “Now the latest on this fifth day of August, 2114.”