An overcast sky and a sharp wind marked the changing weather. There were days when the cold cut through the settler's light clothing. The soft fur that covered most of a Tridonian's body was no longer sufficient. Most everyone had noticed the large vee formations of birds flying overhead. Leaves from the trees swirled across the settlement.
Nireem walked with Gergin and Eteppon down the public space between the rows of log huts. The prospect of individual homes had been a powerful motivator, and the three men were amazed by the activity they saw.
“I see most of the log huts are finished, but what are we doing to get the fireplaces constructed?” the Commander asked.
“We had to switch to using clay bricks. We couldn’t find enough stones.”
“Will that set us behind?”
“No. We have work groups digging clay, forming bricks, and firing them,” the flight engineer replied.
“How soon until the shelters are ready to use?”
“It's going fast now. They should be done in five or six days.”
Many initially criticized the Commander's treatment of Salguodir and his men, but now most were starting to appreciate his wisdom. He had been blunt with the prisoners. They had a choice. If they could accept him as their leader and the end of class distinctions, they could stay and contribute to the success of the settlement. Otherwise, he would banish them and leave them on their own in the wilderness. It was a live-or-die choice.
Nireem made it clear that his men would watch them closely and would not tolerate anything challenging his leadership. The settlement needed able-bodied men to survive. That was the reason for his decision.
Since then, the Salguodir faction has worked tirelessly in the work groups. Some colonists thought they were waiting for another opportunity to gain control. Others felt recent events made them recognize that survival would be challenging and the colony would have perished under their leadership.
The clay for the fireplace bricks came from a bank near the shallow river that crossed the slope far below the settlement. After days of digging clay, a gaping pit cut far back into the gentle slope.
One of the workers found a strange object there. It appeared in a screening tray used to sift out small rocks. The thing was slightly longer than a finger joint and was narrow, with a point at one end. It was coated in clay. Out of curiosity, the worker slipped it into a pocket.
That evening, Gergin and Enaida strolled down the slope between the log huts, looking at several finished shelters.
“They are tiny and dark inside,” she said.
“Yes. Just big enough to survive the cold.”
“Where will we sleep?” she asked, dismayed by the primitive dwellings.
“We will bring our sleeping cots down from the half-dome.”
“What about food?”
“Each hut will get a supply. We have to get water and prepare food as best we can. Most everything is dried. We are on our own.”
“The closest I’ve ever come to cooking is pushing buttons on a spacecraft food dispenser.” Enaida's voice revealed fear for the first time.
“We will make it work. We’ll get some of the Amilikut women to help us,” Gergin said, gently squeezing her hand.
“Most of the settlers will need help too. We’ve been dependent on others all our lives.”
They walked back up the slope, conscious of the profound change the cold season would have on everyone. On Tridon, everyone was dependent on the government, but not here. Gergin's mind kept replaying the words: The cold will be a brutal test.
At the Second Settlement
The second settlement had finished the construction of its log huts. The location near a broad river made finding stones for the fireplaces easy. Cariden knew insulating the roof would make it easier to keep the shelters warm and had them put sod over the roof boards.
There were several discussions about how to assign the lots. Finally, Ecurben decided the fairest solution was a lottery. He asked all the single men and women to choose roommates. Then, each couple or group sharing a cabin received a number. Ecurben drew numbers from a storage container. The group with that number could select the hut of their choice.
There were many different opinions about which location was the most desirable. But, in the end, everyone was satisfied and felt the process was fair. After communal living in the half-domes, the settlers were glad to have their own place, and there was a rush to move their possessions to the new quarters.
One enterprising man found a scrap of wood leftover wood. He burned his name into the flat side and mounted it on his cabin. Soon, everyone wanted to put some form of identification on their shelter.
Sirodee, who had done ceramics on Tridon, made platters and pots. But no one had any money. On Tridon, everyone received a periodic government payment into their account. The amount depended upon each person's status. They subtracted the cost of purchases.
The Council decided every cabin needed a few essential ceramic pieces. They asked Sirodee to lead a small group making them.
One night, Retlawon, their food scientist, came to Ecurben.
“One of the men brought me a round object, asking if I knew what it was. I didn’t recognize it but said I would do some research. I think now I know, and it is disturbing.”
“What is it?”
“Sir, it's part of a skull. A skull similar to ours, but there are differences.”
There was a long pause before Ecurben spoke. “You are saying this was from a native?”
“Yes, sir. I can’t determine how long it was in the ground, but it was here before we arrived. It's incomplete, but not from any animals we’ve seen.”
“And there is no way to judge how intelligent this being was?”
“Not from this remnant.”
“OK! Let's call it an animal bone for now. We’ve seen very little of this planet, and there might be animals with skulls like this,” Ecurben ordered, thinking: We don’t need our people worried about intelligent beings lurking around.
“OK, I just thought you should know.”
“Thanks, Retlawon. Keep the skull remnant for now.” The skull wasn’t the first sign there might be other intelligent life nearby. He remembered the campsite reported by a patrol.
The following morning, Ecurben met with his Advisory Council in one of the small half-domes moved to their town center. The group consisted of Cariden, Drachcirn, Adnilla, Odraciron, Retlawon, and Esojon, the oldest Mamlaka.
Ecurben started the meeting by asking, “How close are we to being ready for the Cold Times?” That's what they had begun to call the coming season.
“The food teams have collected enough for between 50 and 60 days,” Adnilla reported. “Every plant within a half-day walk has been picked.”
“I would like to have more than that. Any ideas?” Ecurben asked.
“We can use tree nuts for food.” Retlawon volunteered. “I have worked out a process for reducing the toxic and bitter tannins. Then roasted, they are nutritious.”
“Up in the woods, there are acorns everywhere. Should we collect them?”
“Do it, Adnilla. Having a food reserve is essential. And, Retlawon, instruct them on the proper preparation.”
“What about firewood?”
“We have a good supply and are collecting more. The men are putting a pile at each shelter,” Cariden replied.
“So what's left to do?”
“We are still producing the pottery for use in the huts. Each cabin will get a basic set.”
“Sir, We need to ensure everyone knows what we expect of them when we are in the Cold Times.”
“OK. I’ll speak to the group to set expectations. Good work, everyone. That's all for now.”
As the meeting broke up, Ecurben wanted to update Nireem. The Commander had a communicator rigged to receive their radio signal. But, unfortunately, hearing from the first settlement depended on the weather, and messages were often obscured by static. He set off for their radio powered by the lander. It was in one of the original half-dome structures.
He hadn’t walked far when he heard a voice calling him. It was Ecinajee running to catch up. He stopped and admired the graceful woman drawing near.
“I’m glad I.” Her voice was interrupted by heavy breathing. “I’m glad I saw you.,” she smiled.
“I am, too. I am heading up to our radio. Glad to have your company.”
“You’re a hard man to get alone,” she teased.
He grinned at her and said, “I know. Getting ready for the Cold Times has taken all my time. But we are ready and can spend more time together.”
Ecinajee took his hand as they walked. Thoughts about living together in a tiny log shelter with him filled her mind. She had always lived with other women. Now, she would be in cramped quarters for days at a time. There would be no privacy.
“We should spend some time in our shelter and give it a test, she said.
“That's a good idea. Let's start tonight and see how it goes.”
“OK. A test run,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “I still have a bag of personal things to bring. “
Most half-dome habitats remained where the crew set them up after landing. Ecurben hurried to the radio. He wanted to tell the Commander they were ready. But first, he listened to recordings of messages sent to them. The static obliterated a lot, but what he could hear indicated a concern about adequate food. That prompted him to add a second message about using tree nuts.
Stepping outside, Ecurben saw Ecinajee leaving a half-dome. She was carrying a bag and a small light.
“The habitats have a ring of these tiny lights. Maybe we could put one in our cabin. We need one of those solar energy devices to power the thing. “
“That's a good idea. I’ll have Odraciron look into it. Even a little light would make the shelters more inviting.”
They walked back, hand in hand again. Ecurben thought: She always has new ideas.