Then the last of the ancient memories fell into place, and his next thought was to curse himself.

He had been such a fool. fool. Why hadn't he thought ahead? Why hadn't he planned for this? It would have been so Why hadn't he thought ahead? Why hadn't he planned for this? It would have been so easy easy for him to do this same trick on any scale he liked, to send whole galaxies of stars off in the long-term storage of fast-as-light travel, so that he would have billions upon billions of them ready for his use in this time of his need! for him to do this same trick on any scale he liked, to send whole galaxies of stars off in the long-term storage of fast-as-light travel, so that he would have billions upon billions of them ready for his use in this time of his need!

For that matter, why hadn't he built some sort of homing impulse into the matter-doppel's instructions, so that they could have returned to normal s.p.a.ce nearby?

The list of charges Wan-To could make against himself had suddenly become almost endless, but he gave up on them as common sense rea.s.serted itself. Self-recrimination wasn't really Wan-To's style. Anyway he had more exciting things to think about.

Yes, yes, the memories were clear. There were twelve stars, and they were still alive! Still even young! young! And all And all his! his!

True, they had been somewhat depleted by the drain of energies that had been needed to send them hurtling across the universe, and certainly they were now a terribly long way away-but they were his. his. He searched eagerly through his specific memories of that offhand action. There was not much there, but he was certain that some of them had billions of years yet to go even on the main sequence-then they would be long-lived dwarfs for much longer than that. He searched eagerly through his specific memories of that offhand action. There was not much there, but he was certain that some of them had billions of years yet to go even on the main sequence-then they would be long-lived dwarfs for much longer than that.

Cheerful for the first time in many eons, Wan-To began the task of planning how to make use of this wholly unexpected new gift.

CHAPTER 28.

Landing on Newmanhome again was a thrill for Viktor Sorincaine. For one thing, it was real s.p.a.ceflight! The vessel was a real s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p landing shuttle, and Pelly let him sit in the copilot seat as they brought it in. Just being being on Newmanhome was an even greater thrill; it was home again. His real home. The place where he belonged-even though, shockingly, the place was no longer anything like the green and promising land he had grown up in. (Nothing green had lived through Newmanhome's ages of ice. Nothing was alive anywhere at all on Newmanhome, except what the habitat people had put there.) Yet Viktor even had friends there! Jeren was waiting eagerly for him, shy and dumb and devoted; and Korelto. Even surly Manett managed to grumble a greeting as he clasped Viktor's shoulder. His eyes, though, were fixed on little Balit as the boy was helped out of the lander and onto a carrying chair. "He's really Frit and Forta's kid?" Manett whispered. "He actually came with you? Fred! Then maybe something's really going to happen around here after all!" on Newmanhome was an even greater thrill; it was home again. His real home. The place where he belonged-even though, shockingly, the place was no longer anything like the green and promising land he had grown up in. (Nothing green had lived through Newmanhome's ages of ice. Nothing was alive anywhere at all on Newmanhome, except what the habitat people had put there.) Yet Viktor even had friends there! Jeren was waiting eagerly for him, shy and dumb and devoted; and Korelto. Even surly Manett managed to grumble a greeting as he clasped Viktor's shoulder. His eyes, though, were fixed on little Balit as the boy was helped out of the lander and onto a carrying chair. "He's really Frit and Forta's kid?" Manett whispered. "He actually came with you? Fred! Then maybe something's really going to happen around here after all!"

"Sure things are going to happen!" Jeren rumbled loyally. "Viktor's here now!" Then he wheedled, "But leave him alone, you guys, all right? He needs time to get settled in, doesn't he? Now, look, Viktor, I fixed up a place for you. I can take you there any time. Are you hungry? I could make some rabbit stew-real rabbits, Viktor; we've got a whole flock of them breeding now . . ."

Viktor hardly heard any of that. He was gazing around at the planet he had left. It wasn't all depressing. Although the hills were brown and bare, the bay was clear blue. So was the sky, with cotton-ball clouds dotted out over the ocean. And there was definitely a certain amount of life on Newmanhome again. Human life, anyway. Practically the planet's whole population-nearly sixty people!-had come to greet the new arrivals, like the citizens of any frontier town gathered at the railroad station to see the train come in.

"I'd better help Balit," Viktor said-to no one in particular, to all of them. He hurried over to where the boy was painfully levering himself into the sedan chair, with a pair of squat, husky gillies standing ready to take up the carrying rods. Balit looked up at him, trembling-partly with the effort of holding his head straight in Newmanhome's gravity, to be sure, but also with sheer excitement.

"This is wonderful, wonderful, Viktor," he breathed. And then he fumbled a metal case from his pouch. "Hold still, please." Viktor," he breathed. And then he fumbled a metal case from his pouch. "Hold still, please."

Viktor allowed his picture to be taken, then ordered parentally, "Put your hat on. You don't know what sunburn can be like; you're not used to it." As the boy obeyed, Viktor looked up. Pelly was escorting a lean habitat man over to join them. The man was hobbling on two canes, and he had a blue beret pulled down almost to his eyes. A woman, as tall and thin as himself but almost as pretty as Nrina, limped after them.

"Viktor," said Pelly, "this is Grimler, and her husband, Markety. They're the ones who sent you the data you asked for."

"Tried to anyway," the woman said, giving Viktor a hug of greeting. "I hope it was some use for you-I admire you so much, you know."

While Viktor was still blinking in surprise at that, the man was going on. "It's harder from the actual stores," Markety apologized. "You'll see. We can take you there any time you like."

"Any time," the woman echoed hospitably. "Do you want to go up there now?"

"Oh, yes," yes," Viktor said. Viktor said.

It was a good thing they had built the datastore and the freezers adjacent to the power plant up in the hills instead of in Homeport itself. There wasn't any Homeport anymore. At least, there was nothing left of it that was visible. The place where the city of Homeport had once been was now at the bottom of the bay.

The bad thing, however, was that a hill was still a hill. To go up it took work. work.

Balit, Grimler, and Markety didn't even try to climb it themselves; that was what the gillie litter bearers were for. Their squat bodies were solid muscle; Nrina's arts had seen to that. Viktor envied them. His own muscles, softened by so many months in the soft gravity of habitat and Moon Mary, complained of the task of lifting a human body so far. Halfway up, Viktor had to pause to catch his breath.

When he looked around for familiar landmarks there weren't any. "I don't see the power plant buildings," he protested.

From beside him, Korelto said reasonably, "Of course you don't see see them, Viktor. They got buried." He wasn't out of breath at all-of course, Viktor reflected, he'd had more time to get in shape on Newmanhome. them, Viktor. They got buried." He wasn't out of breath at all-of course, Viktor reflected, he'd had more time to get in shape on Newmanhome.

"But the plant's still running," Jeren a.s.sured him. "You can hear it if you listen, and the buildings are still there. And lots of the things in them are still okay. Come on, it's just another twenty minutes or so."

"Just give me a minute," Viktor said. He turned as the gillies brought Balit up next to him and set the chair down. The boy looked up at him, weary but grinning and game.

"Are we there yet, Viktor?" he asked. And then, without waiting for an answer, he pulled his camera out again in excitement. "Look up there! Aren't those things clouds?" clouds?"

Viktor nodded, without answering. He was listening. Apart from the occasional sounds of the climbing party, the silence was almost absolute. A faint sigh of wind. Some distant machine noises from the little cl.u.s.ter of buildings at the foot of the hill, where Pelly's s.h.i.+p was being unloaded.

And-yes-a high-pitched, almost inaudible whisper from farther up on the hillside. The sound was familiar to Viktor, even after all the time that had pa.s.sed. "Is that the power plant turbines I hear?" he asked.

From his own sedan chair, now coming up even with them, the man named Markety said, "Yes, of course it's the turbines. Are we going to stand here and talk or go on? I thought you people were used to this kind of drag. You two," he ordered Balit's gullies. "Pick the chair up and let's move."

"Do you want me to give you a hand, Viktor?" Jeren asked anxiously. "I know how I felt when I got back here, the first few days. Weak! I never felt like that before. But it'll pa.s.s, honest it will, Viktor."

"Of course it will," Viktor growled, panting hard, waving off the offer to help. The other thing about Newmanhome he had almost forgotten was that it could be hot. hot. He was not only fatigued but sweating profusely when the trail turned. A shaft entrance lay ahead-something new; something dug recently to get down to something else long buried beneath the surface. Pairs of gillies were coming out of it, carrying freezer capsules. He was not only fatigued but sweating profusely when the trail turned. A shaft entrance lay ahead-something new; something dug recently to get down to something else long buried beneath the surface. Pairs of gillies were coming out of it, carrying freezer capsules.

"Let them pa.s.s," Markety called from behind. "They've got cargo to take down to the s.h.i.+p."

Viktor was glad to oblige. He gazed around, wondering. There was a time-oh, a long time ago, a terribly terribly long time ago-when all this hillside had been green and sweet, and people had gathered around to picnic and dance and listen to old Captain Bu's speeches. This had to be the same place. But how sadly it had changed. He remembered that he had been there with Reesa and Tanya and the baby, before they married . . . long time ago-when all this hillside had been green and sweet, and people had gathered around to picnic and dance and listen to old Captain Bu's speeches. This had to be the same place. But how sadly it had changed. He remembered that he had been there with Reesa and Tanya and the baby, before they married . . .

He had to look away, for his eyes were stinging. He saw Jeren looking at him worriedly and pulled himself together as the gillies lumbered past on their way downhill.

The turbine scream was louder now, unmistakable. There was another throbbing sound that was harder to identify, until Viktor saw a stream of muddy water gus.h.i.+ng down alongside the trail.

Jeren saw what he was looking at. "That's from the pumps," he explained. "They have to keep pumping the water out, of course."

"Pumping?" Viktor repeated, and his heart sank.

For it had never occurred to him that freezing meant ice, and melting meant flooding.

Viktor turned to Markety, whose chair was just coming up behind him. "Is that why you had so much trouble retrieving the data?" he demanded. "Because the datastores were all under water?"

Markety looked astonished, then, as understanding dawned, the expression turned to compa.s.sion. "Oh," he said. "I thought you knew that."

Viktor had not forgotten what homesteading a new world was like, not entirely, anyway. What he had forgotten was how much work work it was. it was.

Annoyingly, everyone he saw seemed to think that he had come there for no other reason than to take part in the work-if not in fact to oversee it. They did need overseeing. When Viktor explained what a well was, and a septic tank, and why the former always had to be dug uphill from the latter, Markety was almost pathetically grateful. "How did you get along without me?" Viktor asked, half-amused, half-aghast at these inept pioneers.

"Very badly, I'm afraid," Markety said at once. "We need you. After all, you're the only person who's ever seen Newmanhome the way it ought to be."

So, w.i.l.l.y-nilly, Viktor was drafted into every project. The good thing about hard, demanding work was that it kept one too busy to dwell on defeats. Well, it almost did; but nothing could quite wipe out of Viktor's mind the thoughts of those ruined stacks of magnetic fiches that had once held the sum of human knowledge. Melt.w.a.ter had done what time alone could not. All the chambers that had held the datastores had been under water. And even the parts that had now been pumped dry were a soggy ruin; steel was rust, silicon was cracked and crazed; everything was caked in mud. To restore any of the lost information would be something like burning a book in a crucible and trying to read its contents in the smoke.

Meanwhile, there was the work.

The most important job on the reborn planet was providing enough food to keep the people alive. Naturally, Pelly's s.h.i.+p brought tons of food on every trip, and the first habitat visitors had installed gillie-manned hothouses to grow the kinds of things they were used to eating. It wasn't enough. The revived corpsicles, who were by far the greater part of Newmanhome's tiny population, had to find ways to feed themselves.

It was Manett who led Viktor to the scratched-out plot of hillside ground that was their first attempt at a farm. It was fortunate that Jeren's promise had been kept: Viktor's muscles had accustomed themselves to carry his full weight around again-there were aches, but they did their job. Even Balit was getting used to the demands on his artificial muscles, though on the trip to the farm plots Jeren carried the boy on his back.

As soon as they had reached the plot Jeren set the boy down and turned to Viktor, his face grinning with pride. "What do you think?" he asked modestly, waving at the irregular rows of green. "I didn't do all of it. Markety let us use the gillies for some of the work. And Manett helped, and some of the others."

Viktor studied the spindly shoots. The mere sight of growing things was a lift to the spirits, among so much bare desolation, but there was nothing there that grew higher than his knee, and nothing resembling fruit on any of it. He asked apologetically, "What are they?"

Jeren looked surprised. "Potatoes," he said, pointing. "All those right there. And there's carrots, and cabbage-you had some of that last night, remember? And we tried tomatoes and peppers, but they didn't come out real well."

"They came out terrible," terrible," Manett growled. "The carrots get all squashed and funny-looking, too." Manett growled. "The carrots get all squashed and funny-looking, too."

"The rabbits like the green stuff, even if we can't eat it. Besides, the carrots taste all right," Jeren said defensively.

"They taste like carrots, sure," Manett agreed, "but even in the caves we used to grow carrots that were four times as long as those. What's the matter with them, Viktor?"

Viktor was conscious of Balit's eyes on him. "I wasn't ever a farmer, really," he apologized. No one said anything. They were waiting for him to go on. He said uncomfortably, "Has anybody tested the soil?" Blank looks gave him the answer. "They might need some kind of fertilizer," he explained. "Minerals or something. I wish we could get at the data-stores. I'm sure they'd have all kinds of agricultural information.''

"You know we can't do that, Viktor," Manett snapped.

Jeren pointed out, pacifically, "See, Viktor, none of us ever tried to grow anything out in the open, like this."

Viktor nodded in silence. He knew they were waiting for him to speak. He knew, too, that the most honest thing he could tell these people would be that he didn't know how to help them. He even opened his mouth to say as much, but Balit was speaking ahead of him. The boy said confidently, "Viktor will take care of it. Back on Moon Mary he told me lots of stories about when people were growing things on farms. Didn't you, Viktor? I remember you talked about irrigating the fields. And what was the other thing, something about seeding the ground with earthworms?"

"Well, yes," Viktor said unwillingly, "I saw all that kind of stuff done. But I never-"

He stopped there, looking around at the way they were hanging on his words. Even surly Manett was gazing at him with hope.

"But," Viktor corrected himself, "I, uh, I-" He looked around the field for inspiration, then finished, "I don't see any way of watering these crops. Some of the plants look pretty dry."

"It rains rains on them, doesn't it?" Manett growled. on them, doesn't it?" Manett growled.

"It only rained once in the last three weeks," Jeren corrected him. "Maybe Viktor's right. Look, there's plenty of water down there in the bay. We could take some of the pumps from the freezer-"

"No!" Viktor yelled, shocked. "That's salt salt water! That'll kill them." water! That'll kill them."

"Oh, sure," Jeren said remorsefully. "All right, then there's a creek that goes down by the landing strip, how about that?"

But by then Viktor had an idea. "Why pump it uphill?" he asked. "There's all that water that's being pumped out of the power plant area. I saw it running down by the trail. We could get the gillies to dig a ditch, divert it to here. Or, even better in the long run, we could start a new farm, wherever the water comes down."

He stopped, because they were all grinning at him. Balit's face was s.h.i.+ning with particular pride. "I told you Viktor would know," the boy informed the others. "Now what do we do about this fertilizer stuff, Viktor?"

Viktor thought for a moment. "I suppose if we sent some soil samples back to Nergal somebody could test them and tell us what to do," he said slowly. "Then, I remember we seeded earthworms. I don't imagine any of those survived the ice, but there might be some left in the freezers. We could look. If there aren't any there, maybe Nrina or somebody could make some for us. You have to have something like earthworms to get a good crop, because they lighten the soil and help things grow."

He stopped, because Balit was looking doubtful. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, there's one thing I don't understand about that, Viktor," Balit said diffidently. "In school we learned about growing things, and n.o.body ever said anything about earthworms."

Viktor frowned, trying to remember what the farms in the habitats had been like. "Maybe they prepare the soil a different way on the habitats," he hazarded. "Probably they do-I'm sure the crops on the habitats don't grow in plain dirt. It's bound to be something artificial-really special-probably with all the minerals and so on that the plants need measured out exactly. But here we're talking about trying to restore vegetation to a whole planet, Balit. The earthworms would do it all for us, you see. And-yes, now that I think of it, you might need other kinds of bugs, too. Bees, for instance. Some kinds of plants have to have bees, to carry the pollen around so the seeds will develop."

He stopped, startled by the expressions of relief on every face.

"I told you," Balit repeated happily.

And Jeren said with pride, "I knew things would be all right as soon as I saw you get off the s.h.i.+p, Viktor."

By the time Pelly's s.h.i.+p took off again for the return flight to Nergal, Viktor had come to terms with his worst defeat . . . almost.

It wasn't easy to do that. The destruction of the data files meant the end of a lot of hopes for him, but the thought of bringing Newmanhome back to life provided a different kind of hope. Almost as good. Not quite.

But everyone around him seemed almost c.o.c.ky with expectations for the future, even Pelly. In the last moments before takeoff, Pelly took time out from shouting at the gillies as they finished loading the lander to clasp Viktor's shoulder awkwardly and say, "I'm sorry about your files, Viktor. Listen, if there's anything I can do-"

"Thanks anyway," Viktor said.

Pelly paused to study him thoughtfully. "You know," he said, "sometimes when things are at their rottenest something nice happens. Maybe something that you don't even expect. You could turn out to have a pretty happy life here, Viktor, with a little luck."

"I know that," Viktor said, summoning up a smile. It wasn't a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt or pleasure, but the kind of graveside smile a widow gives to the friends offering condolence. "Jeren's been telling me the same thing. You're both right, of course."

But it didn't feel as though they were right, and he was glad enough when Pelly had to break off his efforts at consolation to give orders to the gillies. And then, very quickly, Markety finished the last of his weepy farewells to his wife, who was going back to Nergal for a visit; and the last of the capsules containing corpsicles for Nrina's lab were stowed, and the gillies were herded away out of range of the rocket's exhaust, and Pelly waved a final good-bye from the port . . . and then the port was closed. Everyone retreated to safety, Jeren carrying Balit and anxiously urging Viktor on with them. The lander motors spilled out a little wisp of flame, then roared. The s.h.i.+p picked up speed as the noise became deafening-rolled away-began to lift-and was suddenly only a dot in the sky, disappearing over Great Ocean. Everyone was watching. No one spoke. Viktor caught a glimpse of Balit, staring wistfully at the vapor trails the lander had left behind, and behind him Markety, looking very tired and staring sadly after the disappearing s.h.i.+p that was carrying his wife away.

Then the s.h.i.+p was out of sight. The last fading thunder of its engines died away, and the silence of lonely, empty Newmanhome came in around them.

It was Manett who broke it. "Well," he said, his tone angry as he challenged them all, "now we can get back to digging those irrigation ditches."

Two weeks later the ditches were dug and a trickle of muddy water seeped into the soil of the farm plot whenever somebody, usually Jeren, lifted the flat panel that served as a gate. It hadn't rained, but the plants were already looking a little healthier. Korelto and half a dozen others were spending their days in the cryonics chambers, looking for the earthworms and bees that Viktor had prescribed, or for anything else that might be useful to their task-without much luck so far, but still hoping.

Viktor did not go with them for that. Viktor did not like being in the place where he had lain as a corpsicle for all those centuries; it was too much like visiting his own grave.

In any case, there were plenty of other things to keep Viktor busy, and some of them were even pleasant. One morning he sought Balit out and offered him a treat. "Markety's got an inflatable boat, and there's something I want to look at. How would you like to go out on the bay?"

Naturally the boy had only one answer to that. "Oh, Viktor," he sighed when they were afloat. "I didn't know people could go floating out onto all that water water-without even getting wet! wet! No one I know has ever done such a thing!" And he dabbled his bare feet into the water, squealing in pleasure at the unexpected cold. No one I know has ever done such a thing!" And he dabbled his bare feet into the water, squealing in pleasure at the unexpected cold.

Viktor pulled them a few hundred yards away from sh.o.r.e and then rested on his oars, looking about. Balit had his camera out again, taking pictures in sheer joy of everything he could find. But when Viktor looked at the same things-the barren hills, the empty skyline-it all seemed bare and hopeless. The idea of a living Newmanhome seemed like a mirage. Apart from the handful of revived corpsicles, no one seemed to care. Even Markety. If these were the most enterprising people alive, Viktor thought sourly-and people like Markety and Pelly had to be that, since they were the only ones who bothered to come here-then the human race was in bad trouble . . .

But the sun was warm, and the water gentle. The only breeze was mild and on-sh.o.r.e; there were no waves to speak of, and no risk of being blown out to sea. "What was it you wanted to see, Viktor?" Balit inquired.

"Look down into the water," Viktor ordered. "See if you can find anything that doesn't look natural." And then, as the boy leaned precariously over the side, Viktor pulled him back, laughing. "Don't fall in. You don't know how to swim yet."

"But there are some funny-looking things down there, Viktor. Are they what you mean?"

Viktor leaned over to look. It took a moment to be sure of what he was looking at, for they were nearly buried in mud, but then he nodded in satisfaction. "I thought they'd be there. They're Von Neumanns."

"What are Von Neumanns, Viktor?"

"Do you know the things that bring metals in from the asteroids? The things your grandparents use to manufacture things with? Those are Von Neumanns, too. These are the same kind of thing, only these don't travel in s.p.a.ce-they feed on metals in hot springs under the sea. And it looks like they went right on doing it for a long time! There are thousands of them here, Balit." And he tried to explain how the Von Neumann nautiloids had gone out for untold centuries, even under the ice when Newmanhome was frozen, eating and reproducing, and then returning as their chemical sniffers sorted out the flavors of Homeport, as salmon did on Earth, and their tiny brains told them to return for harvesting.

"But there wasn't anyone here to harvest them," Viktor said "So they're no good anymore?" the boy asked.

"Not at all! I'm glad to see they're really there. They could be pretty valuable, if we had any way to use them. Pure metals, already refined, all sorts of raw materials . . ." He grinned wryly. "If we had factories we could do a lot of manufacturing. If we had food to feed the people to run the factories. If we had the people to grow the food to feed the people. If-"

He broke off as he realized Balit was holding the camera on him. "Come on, Balit, what are you going to do with all these pictures? Why don't you turn that thing off?"