Earthseed

one of them is dead. And Anoki refuses to complain. And I’m afraid to, because I don’t know what Owen might do.”
    “I think this whole business might be settled sooner than you think. Just be patient, and try to keep them apart.”
    “How?” Bonnie asked angrily. “How is it going to be settled? It just goes on and on.”
    “Just wait. It’s being worked on.”
    Bonnie frowned, then strode away toward the henhouse.
    Zoheret walked down the hill toward the fields, stopping by the graveyard and looking down at the names carved into the flat, brown, uneven stones they had cleared from the fields. Helena. Annie. Robert. The winter, though mild—Ship had put them in a temperate zone—had been colder and wetter than expected, and the dead had been careless. Zoheret had already made sure that there would be warmer clothing, and more caution, next winter.
    She glanced up at the large dome that housed their library and the radio through which they spoke to Ship. She had never used the radio, refusing to talk to Ship even while back in the Hollow, never thanking it for her arm. The room housing the radio had acquired an awesome aura; others approached it now as if engaging in an arcane rite, and Zoheret was sure some used it as a confessional, confiding what they could not reveal to their friends. Some had been critical of Zoheret for avoiding the room. She was the leader, wasn’t she? Shouldn’t she consult with Ship as well as the board on difficult decisions? Zoheret had finally managed to convince the doubters that she did not need Ship’s advice; in fact, she rarely acted on crucial matters without the agreement of others who had consulted Ship. There shouldn’t have been a leader, she thought; she had wanted a collective. But someone had to decide when others could not agree.
    Almost everyone was awake now; she saw them filing off to their respective labors. It was time for her to do the same. A year. Earth time. They would mark it that evening before giving up the old way of timekeeping and marking the days with a new calendar. She looked back at the stones and wondered how many more would lie under them before another year had passed.

    Ho approached her that afternoon as she was sweeping out her dome. Zoheret rested against the broom as he came to her front steps. “Well?” he said belligerently. “Have you decided yet?”
    “Have you talked to Aleksandr?”
    “It doesn’t concern his group.”
    “Oh, yes, it does. I can’t decide this unless he agrees. You know our procedure.” Aleksandr had been made leader of his group, and he and Zoheret had to agree on certain decisions before acting. Lillka had offered the idea, telling them of an old Earth city which had had two kings. “You can ask him now. There he is.”
    Aleksandr was riding toward them on a small cart. Ho walked down the hill toward him as Zoheret finished sweeping her steps. Aleksandr got out of his cart, frowning as Ho spoke.
    After propping her broom against the door, Zoheret walked toward them. As she came near, Aleksandr looked up and said, “Ho wants to leave us.”
    “I know.” As she gazed at the young man’s face, she thought of Dmitri.
    “He says about twenty people want to go with him.”
    Ho nodded. Zoheret glanced at him; Ho lifted his eyebrows and stroked his thin mustache with one finger.
    “We want to live near the sea,” Ho said. “There are caves near the shore, and the climate’s milder. We can fish with nets—we know some of the life forms are edible—and we can cultivate the fertile soil bordering the beach. The river there will provide water, and hunting will give us whatever else we need. We’ll need one dispenser, too, to tide us over, and a couple of horses to breed—we’ve worked it out. We can always trade with you later for anything else.”
    “I don’t like it,” Aleksandr said. “We’ll be losing workers. We should stay together. Our lives here are precarious enough as it is.” He turned to Ho. “It’ll be harder than you think. You might come wandering back here next winter needing our help.”
    Ho shrugged. “If we do, we’ll work for anything we need. But I think we’ll be more resourceful than that. If we come back, we’ll have to abide by your rules, and we’d prefer to avoid that.”
    “It’s not a good precedent. If you go off, maybe others will want to do the same.”
    “It’s going to happen anyway,” Ho answered. “Not right away, but in time. As the group