Chapter 24

The work went on virtually non-stop, with periodic slow-downs when one or another of the humans was too exhausted to go on. Heisinger and Igwanda rested in relays, one of them always awake to guide the operation and ensure that it hewed to the plan; the others snatched such sleep as they were able when they were able. They were in constant communication with Cro­martie aboard the Ark to ensure that the on-board arrangements likewise followed the plan, and twice Igwanda made quick visits to the ship to double-check.

On one of the first shuttle trips down they'd brought massive klieg lights to be installed in the meadow, plus solar packs to power them, so they could continue work through the nights. All this would be left on the planet when they departed, there'd be no room aboard to stow them and no further need for them.

The third and final week of their stay the frenetic pace slowed appreciably, when they began bringing up the wildlife. The beasts couldn't be persuaded to move after dark, notwithstanding the artificial lighting, so work ground to a halt on the surface when the sun set. For the humans it was a mixed blessing; the creatures' reticence meant less time to load them, it was true, but it also gave time for by then much-needed sleep. Matters were at that point much more difficult for those on the Ark, who had to deal with animals thoroughly confused by their surroundings and, especially, the lack of discernible "day" or "night" on board. But by then the ship's great bay had been transformed into a reasonable facsimile of the planet's surface, and the beasts ultimately settled in.

The great majority of the creatures were of the three species the Edenites had managed to domesticate—the cattle-sized hexapods they'd used as draft animals and two smaller four-legged creatures who'd been maintained for foodstock. A few others had been captured wild by the Edenites, who were accomplished trappers, but it proved difficult to ensure breeding pairs and some of those caught had to be released when O'Bannion's jerry-rigged genetic testing couldn't verify their survivability. Only three aviators would be represented, and five aquatic species.

And all were, without exception, herbivorous. The humans had known from the start that there'd be no realistic possibility of taking carnivores; there'd be no way to keep them fed and still maintain adequate stock of the others who were their natural prey. Population control of the herbivores with no natural predators, they'd originally thought, wouldn't be a problem with the Edenites present to thin their ranks, but now...

"I suppose we'll wind up selling tickets to big-game hunters," Heisinger said sourly to Igwanda in a rare private moment. "'Hey, come kill yourself an Eden animal, get a unique trophy!' And they'll come, too, the assholes. Then they'll take home hides and heads or feet or tails or whatever and tell all their friends what mighty hunters they are."

"Well, it'll be a way of raising revenue long-term," he told her practically. "I gather you're not a fan of hunters."

"Hunters for the table, sure," she said. "I like to eat meat as much as anybody, and it's pretty, I don't know, hypocritical if you want to eat it but get all squeamish about actually killing it. But we can't eat a damn thing from Eden, so that's out. They'll just want something to mount on their freakin' walls or make into throw rugs or stands for cocktail tables, and I think that sucks."

He shrugged. "So do I. But we're going to have to control population, and that's as good a way of doing it as just culling them."

"Dammit, this was supposed to be a self-sustaining colony," she expostulated. "And it would have been, a great one. But now, I don't know ... I damn sure wouldn't have invested so much of my life into this if I'd known they were going to spit in our eye."

"Yeah," he said. "I don't think Grandmother would have either. Hell, I know damn well she wouldn't. Her whole idea from the start was to save them, the rest of it was just so they'd have a good place to live. The whole thing sucks."

Meantime Meiersdottir, at loose ends, had continued and even expanded her visits to MacPherson. Most of their days were spent in each other's company, sometimes talking, sometimes playing games—both were well-versed in both chess and go, and were fairly matched in both—sometimes watching holos or checking out topics of mutual interest on the shipboard computer system, and now and again merely sitting quietly in easy silence.