He breathed deeply as the Skeeter rose and headed north toward the mist-shrouded bulk of Mucking Great Mountain. The light of a setting Tau Ceti diffused redly through the clouds.

At first the landing pad was an indistinguishable part of the sprawling camp, then a postage stamp, and then cracker-sized, and finally the familiar square studded with radio beacons and lights.

Mary Ann stood there, looking a little rounder than when last he'd seen her. A little warmer, more vulnerable. She shielded her face from the wind and dust. The smile beneath her forearm shadow was wide and bright and welcoming.

She came to him, held him, and he buried his face in the warm notch between her neck and shoulder and felt her cool, moist teardrops against his skin.

They kissed in a roar of dying Skeeter engines. The whipping air began to still, and at last he could hear her whispered words.

"—you so much," she said, and kissed him again. She looked up to him, eyes shining with pride and relief. "You're done now," she said.

"Yes."

"Then let's go home."

He kissed her this time, marveling at the simple pleasure it gave him.

He nodded. "Let's go home."

MENDING WALLS

For one swallow does not make a summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short time, or a great deed, does not make a man blessed or happy.

ARISTOTLE, Nicomachaen Ethics

Tweedledum barked energetically, wagged his tail and pranced to attract Cadmann's attention.

Cadmann chuckled indulgently and ignored him. He pointed down the hillside at the bare-chested workers who labored to widen his patio. "The house as planned now will be about twelve hundred square feet, with maybe another four thousand feet of greenhouse."

A warm wind from the south had blown away the usual mists. The view ran forever, from the tiny workmen across land and ocean to tiny mountains on the continent itself. It was as if he could see the whole planet.

They'll call it the new world. They always do, but it's as old as Earth, and we've taken it as we took the Earth.

Good day for this. Beside him, Carlos Martinez nodded solemnly: the role of video host suited him to the hilt. "I just can't believe how much progress you've made in the past five months."

"It's been a lot of work, but given enough time and manpower, almost anything is possible—"

"Hold it. Cad," Sylvia called from the hillside above them. "The field of focus is off."

"Can't have that. Casa Weyland is the star of the show."

Cadmann swallowed his irritation while Carlos climbed up to help

Sylvia fiddle with her video pack.

Building a documentary had sounded great ten light-years ago. It was fair enough. Building an interstellar starship had put the Geographic Society massively in debt. They were entitled to know the results. They would learn from the first expedition's mistakes. Sales to Sol system's twelve billion would help to finance a second expedition.

In practice the running documentary had become a pain in the ass. Cadmann might have given the whole thing a pass but for the chance to see his two friends.

He looked back down the hill, out over Cadmann's Bluff, down to where Mary Ann sat holding Sylvia's seven-week-old son. She waved one of Justin's chubby hands at them, and some of his irritation dissolved. Three months of pregnancy remained to her, and it warmed him to have a preview of his future family. Mary Ann's fringe of pale golden hair riffled in the mild salt breeze. She hugged their surrogate child while Tweedledee sat contentedly at her side. The sprawling silver ribbon of the Miskatonic split the valley behind and below her.

His crops were coming up in rows of green and yellow now, and the cages rustled with Joes. He was proud of what he had wrested from the soil, but his true joy was the spreading infrastructure of his homestead.

Hendrick Sills, Gregory Clifton and two former members of his kill team were immediately below him, deepening the boxlike foundation of his house. The original structure had been expanded east and west, but building farther back into the hill added the possibility of clerestories—staggered, louvered roofs that allowed greater view, greater access for light.

The effort would have exhausted a lone man. In the three and a half months since the death of the sixth grendel, the Colony had demonstrated its gratitude in the only way it knew how: by contributing time and labor. So the earth was broken, rocks moved and walls raised, floors and ceilings extended.

Cadmann's Bluff had become the showpiece of Tau Ceti Four.

Carlos clumped back down the mountainside. "All right. Repitan, por favor. "

"Hold it, Carlos, just hold it. This is getting old real quick."

"Don't be a spoilsport," Sylvia chided. "The view is beautiful. I've got the house, the bluff, the Colony, the northern mountains and the tips of the mainland peaks. Do you have any idea how rare it is for a hundred kilometers of mist to burn away?"

"That's a once-in-a-lifetime shot, compadre. Our sponsors expect it.

National Geographic wants us to show Earth's land-starved masses the joys of homesteading in the stars—"

"There goes the local neighborhood."

"—and one of its joys is the chance to become a hero, like Avalon's greatest citizen, Cadmann Weyland, sometimes yclept Beowulf."

Sylvia whistled her approval.

Cadmann laughed disgustedly. "All right, all right. Get the rest of your damned footage and let's quit."

"Deal."

The camera ran. Carlos declaimed. They walked the perimeter of the cleared rectangle that would one day be the greenhouse. They skirted a new excavation to the northeast.

"And here," Carlos continued theatrically, "will one day reside the finest wine cellar on Camelot. Stored on board Geographic are frozen cuttings from some of California's finest vineyards. Someday, when the basic crops have stabilized, it may be time to start less... vital foodstuffs." He cleared his throat. "Purely for medicinal purposes, of course."

"Carlos, don't you know that grapes can be eaten straight?"

"No hablo ingles."

They walked down the narrow path beside the house, past the massive boulder rigged as a deadfall, set to crush anything trying to force its way uphill. Cadmann winced as Carlos pretended to lean against it. Sylvia circled to get a better view. "This is probably an unnecessary precaution. The grendels are dead, slain by Colonel Cadmann Weyland. Even so, our Cadmann is a cautious fellow."

Cadmann raised his hand in protest. "Carlos. You've got to stop this. I don't like being painted as Beowulf. I just did what had to be done. I can't encourage this. I'm not interested in running for God."

"This isn't reality. This is theater."

"If it was only going to be seen throughout the solar system, fine.

But you're going to show it down in the Colony, too. It's not good for them, it's not good for me."

Cadmann left them and followed Tweedledum downhill. He knew that the colonists just wanted to thank him, and yet somehow it all seemed meaningless.

Sure, you saved the Colony. Right.

But Ernst is dead, and he was the only one you were really responsible for, dammit.

He stopped down by the Dopey Joe cages. Their flock had grown to twenty, and Carlos had created a modular cage design for Mary Ann, simple to build or expand, easy to clean. Cadmann was happy with the new model, and the sight of it eased his annoyance. He put on another smile for the cameras.

Just a few more minutes of this nonsense.

Mary Ann was suddenly beside him, holding Justin as if he were their own child. They'd love this image back on Earth. He leaned over and kissed her warmly. "Feeding time for our flock?"