"Let me tell you," Kirk said with great feeling, "That I'm really happy to be here. You're doing a wonderful job. A magnificent job."

The deputy governor in charge of Fort Alaya looked uncomfortable while he searched for hidden criticism in Kirk's praise. Fort Alaya currently consisted of a dozen shacks housing a dozen colonists and essential workshops. It had no pier - Kirk had come ashore in the dinghy stored aboard the Albatross - and it bore no resemblance whatsoever to a fort.

One of the two cows providing the settlement with milk stood near Kirk's landing spot, watching him with its big wet eye. Kirk grinned and winked at it, and the cow raised its tail and squirted a jet of liquid shit onto the ground.

"I'm really happy to be here," Kirk repeated firmly. He waited, in vain, for the governor to show him where he'd be staying during his visit. He didn't mind staying in a shack, as long as that shack had a bed of ordinary dimensions, and didn't stink of tar and resin.

"I feel privileged and happy to see you here so soon, sir," lied the governor. "Would you like me to show you around?"

"Certainly. Certainly! But I think the captain wants a word with you first. We've brought you some supplies."

While captain Craw discussed the details involved in bringing the supplies ashore, Kirk walked up to the nearest pair of shacks. He was smiling. It was wonderful to feel solid, stable ground under his feet. He really had no idea why he'd disliked staying on the ship so much. Back in the Old World, back in the good old times he'd often boarded ships and joined yachting friends and he'd never felt this way.

The door to the shack was closed, which was a pity: Kirk was curious how things were inside. His curiosity was partly satisfied, for he heard a male voice inside the shack say:

"... kissing the governor's ass."

"He's scared he'll get fired," a female voice stated confidently.

"You think so?"

"I'm sure of it. He didn't expect an inspection so soon."

Kirk softly stepped away from the shack, and glanced over his shoulder. Captain Craw and the deputy governor Kirk had appointed to run Alaya were engaged in a heated exchange of words. He began walking towards them, ears flapping. He heard Craw say:

"No way. She's got just six feet of water under the keel, and I'm not moving her in any closer. You'll have to build a raft."

"But you have a boat."

"It's too small to handle some of the stuff we've brought. You'll have to build a raft, and build it fast. It has to be ready by the evening."

"That's impossible. I - "

"Captain Craw," said Kirk, coming to a stop beside them, "I think it would be a good idea if we sent the governor some help. Maybe the ship's carpenter, and a few crewmen who know how to work wood."

"Thank you, sir," said the governor of Alaya, breathless with gratitude.

"As you say, sir," Craw said grumpily. He walked back to the beached dinghy, shouting at the two crewmen to push it back into the water.

"Let's take a little walk," Kirk said, putting his hand on the governor's shoulder and exerting a little friendly pressure to turn him around. They began walking side by side up the muddy path that led to the group of shacks which constituted Fort Alaya. As they passed the cow, it emitted an unhappy grunt.

"Is someone looking after that animal?" asked Kirk.

"Yes, of course, there must be."

"Never mind. Governor, if I recall correctly we sent a couple of canoes with clothes, tools, and food. You had all that waiting for you upon your arrival here."

"Yes, sir. We were very grateful, we are very grateful for your help," said the governor. He felt totally bewildered. His ears told him a small shitstorm was coming. Yet Kirk had been praising the wonderful progress made in Fort Alaya just a moment earlier!

"I assume you've been able to furnish the homes you've built with beds."

"Well yes, a couple," said the governor.

"A couple?"

"Well, most people sleep on hides you've so kindly sent. They put them on top of some hay and leaves and it's quite comfortable. The carpenter's currently completing a new bed every few days. That's all he can do at present, he's also busy with a lot of other things."

"Do you have a bed?"

"Yes."

"Can I see it?"

"Why, yes, of course."

"Let's go."

They walked to the last shack in the group that stretched along the muddy path running down to the shore. It was also the most poorly built of them all; Kirk guessed the governor had moved into the very first shack that had been completed. Its walls were made of wattle, and the door was a bunch of trimmed branches roughly nailed together.

"It's just temporary, of course," said the governor, opening the door. This involved lifting the door up prior to swinging it open: the hinges consisted of leather loops. Kirk poked his head inside for a look.

It was pretty dark inside the shack: a rough mat suspended from a nail hung over the window opening. The floor was almost as muddy as the path; here and there, small heaps of leafy twigs provided stepping stones that led to the bed.

It was a pretty basic bed: a crude wooden frame on four legs topped with a mattress of hay and hide. But it was bigger than both of the cabin bunks put together, and the smell inside the governor's home wasn't unpleasant: herbs and hay and wet bark.

"I've been up all night keeping an eye on things," Kirk said. "I could use a rest. Would you mind?"

A few miles northeast of Fort Alaya, the very same thoughts were thought by an increasingly weary Arturo Morales. Just like Kirk, Morales hadn't gotten much sleep that night.

Subsequently, Morales spent most of the day lying in the the pirogue's bows and watching the mysterious ship. It sailed about halfway into the strait separating Angel Island from the Tiburon Peninsula, then executed a sharp turn to port and disappeared behind a spit of land.

"Alaya Bay," the captain of the pirogue said knowingly. "That's where it's been headed."

"Alaya Bay?"

"The island appears to be roughly the same shape as it is back home, senor. And Alaya Bay is an excellent natural harbor. A little shallow, but offering good protection in a storm. This cape in front of us, back home it's called Point Lone."

"That cliff looks pretty steep."

"If it's similar to what it is back home, we can climb it."

"Then we will try to do so," said Morales. "I want you to make landfall there. We'll climb to the top. I want to have a good look at that bay."

It took another three hours before Morales was able to satisfy this desire. By then, he'd acquired several bruises and scratches and got very dirty in the process. When he wiped the sweat away from his eyes to look at the bay, it was like smearing mud.

The ship was standing at anchor near the inner shore of the bay; the big sail had been furled. On the shore, a clearing had been cut out from the vegetation. A clutch of small, crooked buildings stood in the clearing. The captain claimed he could also see a small boat on its way back to the ship, and a cow.

"A cow?" said Morales. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's a big cow, one of those Dutch cows that are black and white."

"A Fresian," mused Morales. The presence of the cow answered all his questions.

There was no way an animal that big could have been transported to the island. It had been replicated from the corresponding spot back on Earth. A cow plus a sailing ship - now that he could see it better, Morales thought it was a medieval cog. A cow plus a cog equaled government. No one except the colonial administration was capable of something like that.

There was a government settlement on Angel Island! This could be a catastrophic development. Angel Island was central to the plan Morales had in mind. But there was simply no way he could challenge the colonial administration, and get away with it.

Well, not on his own, anyway. But if he had good allies, numerous allies -

He thought about that all the way down the cliff. Following a quick bath, he climbed into the pirogue with a firm resolve to visit the hungry colonists encountered on the eastern shore of Angel Island. He planned to have a good look around, then pay another visit leading a bunch of settlers and some well-armed soldiers.

It was a weak half-measure, of course. He needed better allies than a bunch of desperate losers who were only too eager to be swallowed up by his colony. He needed to make contact with other well-established colonizers, colonizers who shared his dislike of government control and interference, colonizers like himself. He was sure there were more than a few around. But how to find them? Where to look for them? In which world?

"Captain," said Arturo Morales.

"Yes, senor."

"Please set course for that spot on the eastern shore where we stopped on our way out."

"In a moment, senor. I want to make a dogleg north to put more distance between us and the entrance to the bay. Just to make sure no one sees us. Are we going to stop for the night in the same spot?"

"Yes," said Morales. "I also intend to give whatever food we can spare to those people we met there."

The captain was truly impressed.

"That's very generous of you, senor," he said.

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