sky and weren't afraid of them; stick close
to them, and it would be perfectly safe. Sonny saw the contact team
emerging from their hut and grabbed his mother's arm, pointing. They
both beamed happily; that expression didn't look sad, at all, now that
you knew what it meant. Sonny began ghroogh-ghrooghing hideously; Mom
hushed him with a hand over his mouth, and they both made eating
gestures, rubbed their abdomens comfortably, and pointed toward the
mess hut. Bennet Fayon was frightened. He turned and started on the
double toward the cook, who was standing in the doorway of the hut,
calling out to him.

The cook spoke inaudibly. Fayon stopped short. "Unholy Saint Beelzebub,
no!" he cried. The cook said something in reply, shrugging. Fayon came
back, talking to himself.

"Terran carniculture pork," he said, when he returned. "Zarathustra
pool-ball fruit. Potato-flour hotcakes, with Baldur honey and Odin
flameberry jam. And two big cups of coffee apiece. It's a miracle
they aren't dead now. If they're alive for lunch, we won't need to
worry about feeding them anything we eat, but I'm glad somebody else
has the moral responsibility for this."

Lillian Ransby came out of the headquarters hut. "Ayesha's coming
down this afternoon, with a lot of equipment," she said. "We're
not exactly going to count air molecules in the sound waves, but
we'll do everything short of that. We'll need more lab space,
soundproofed."

"Tell Dave Questell what you want," Meillard said. "Do you really
think you can get anything?"

She shrugged. "If there's anything there to get. How long it'll
take is another question."

* * * * *

The two sixty-foot collapsium-armored turtles settled to the ground
and went off contragravity. The ports opened, and things began being
floated off on lifter-skids: framework for the water tower, and
curved titanium sheets for the tank. Anna de Jong said something
about hot showers, and not having to take any more sponge-baths.
Howell was watching the stuff come off the other landing craft. A
dozen pairs of four-foot wagon wheels, with axles. Hoes, in bundles.
Scythe blades. A hand forge, with a crank-driven fan blower, and a
hundred and fifty pound anvil, and sledges and cutters and swages
and tongs.

Everybody was busy, and Mom and Sonny were fidgeting, gesturing
toward the work with their own empty hands. _Hey, boss; whatta
we gonna do?_ He patted them on the shoulders.