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course. But the few fights could be ascribed to anxiety and claustrophobia. The traditions of Zarathustra, like most well-settled colony planets, had been opposed to violent sexual jealousy. And plans were in hand for extending the—well, the married accommodation.
    Jerode sighed. Yes, there was going to have to be some kind of discipline to make these ad hoc unions stick, something stiffer than the casual suit-yourself practices of Zarathustra. Because there would be children this year if the assembly agreed, and children must
not
become a community charge. There would be too much resentment from nonparents.
    He wished he knew more about primitive psychology. He had picked up a few pointers from Cheffy, but basically their social evolution would have to be a cut-and-try process, like everything else.
    Four of the original fifteen houses were currently derelict. They had been incomplete at the start of the winter, and cannibalized by Fritch to reinforce the walls of the bigger buildings. This one, the headquarters hut which served as a kind of administrative office, was in fairly good shape, though. Jerode gave the split-log planks of the wall an approving nudge.
    His mere touch dislodged one of the planks. It fell with a crash.
    Heart sinking, he bent to examine it. On the brownishsmear of glue which had held it in place, a cluster of yellow specks moved uncertainly, as though startled by the sudden light Some parasite which had found the glue digestible. Add one to the list of immediate jobs.
    “I see you’ve discovered our latest problem, Doc,” a voice said from behind him. He turned. It was Fritch, the burly dark-brown man who had been an architect on Zarathustra and had supervised all their building here.
    “You have a lot of it? Is it serious?” Jerode demanded.
    “Pretty.” Fritch shrugged. He was holding his evening meal sandwich-wise in one hand, and had been biting at it as he walked. “Little Hannet leaned on a plank where that mold or whatever had been at work, and it gave way and she fell ten feet. Wasn’t hurt, luckily. Landed on a bed.”
    “So are all our houses going to collapse on our heads?”
    “No, I don’t think so. I’ve put a team to work cutting nails out of scrap sheet metal. We can reinforce the worst-affected walls until you or Bendle find something to mix with the glue and make it unpalatable. Bendle says he thinks there’s antimony in some of the sea-plants, and we can burn a sample and see if adding the ash helps. Anyway,” he concluded, raising his food to his mouth again, “I see I needn’t have hurried over. I thought I’d find everyone else here.”
    “Arbogast is coming,” Jerode said, looking toward the river. “Bendle is bade from the beach, and so are Aldric and Cheffy—saw them go for chow a few minutes ago. Did you see Lex?”
    “Yes. He managed to get inside the ship. Says it’s in hopeless condition.”
    “We weren’t expecting much. Still,” Jerode amended, frowning, “if Lex says it’s bad we can take it literally. If Arbogast had said it, I’d have assumed he was disheartened. What did he say, do you know? Did he concur?”
    “He didn’t go down.” Fritch spoke around a mouthful.
    “Didn’t he?” Jerode exclaimed. “Why?”
    “I gather he couldn’t face it.”
    “I don’t like the sound of that,” Jerode muttered. “I think I’d better have a private word with him later.”
    “You’re not going to like the sound of this either,” Fritch said. “Nanseltine is agitating for membership of the steering committee, and a lot of people have fallen for his argument that someone who was a full continentalmanager back home must necessarily be competent for the job.”
    “He isn’t.” Jerode’s tone was final. “Someone who did nothing the whole winter long but sit on his butt and complain simply doesn’t have what it takes.”
    “Sure, I agree. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to face a lot of opposition tomorrow.”
    There was