By H. B. Fyfe
Dang vines! Beats all how some plantshave no manners—but what do you expect,when they used to be men!
All things considered—theobscure star, the undetermineddamage to thestellar drive and the way thesmall planet's murky atmospheredefied precision scanners—thepilot made a reasonablygood landing. Despitesour feelings for the spaceservice of Haurtoz, stewardPeter Kolin had to admit thatcasualties might have beenfar worse.
Chief Steward Slichow ledhis little command, less twothird-class ration keepersthought to have been trappedin the lower hold, to a pointtwo hundred meters from thesteaming hull of the PeaceState. He lined them up as ifon parade. Kolin made himselfinconspicuous.
"Since the crew will be onemergency watches repairingthe damage," announced theChief in clipped, aggressivetones, "I have volunteered mysection for preliminary scouting,as is suitable. It may beuseful to discover temporarysources in this area of naturalfoods."
Volunteered HIS section!thought Kolin rebelliously.
Like the Supreme Directorof Haurtoz! Being conscriptedinto this idiotic space fleetthat never fights is badenough without a tin god onjets like Slichow!
Prudently, he did not expressthis resentment overtly.
His well-schooled featuresrevealed no trace of the idea—orof any other idea. ThePlanetary State of Haurtozhad been organized some fifteenlight-years from oldEarth, but many of the homeworld's less kindly techniqueshad been employed. Lack ofcomplete loyalty to the statewas likely to result in a siegeof treatment that left the subjectsuitably "re-personalized."Kolin had heard of instanceswherein mere unenthusiasticposture had betrayedintentions to harbortreasonable thoughts.
"You will scout in five detailsof three persons each,"Chief Slichow said. "Everyhour, each detail will sendone person in to report, andhe will be replaced by one ofthe five I shall keep here toissue rations."
Kolin permitted himself towonder when anyone mightget some rest, but assumed amildly willing look. (Too eageran attitude could arousesuspicion of disguising an improperviewpoint.) The maintenanceof a proper viewpointwas a necessity if the PlanetaryState were to survivethe hostile plots of Earth andthe latter's decadent colonies.That, at least, was the officialline.
Kolin found himself in agroup with Jak Ammet, athird cook, and Eva Yrtok,powdered foods storekeeper.Since the crew would be eatingpackaged rations duringrepairs, Yrtok could be sparedto command a scout detail.
Each scout was issued arocket pistol and a plastic watertube. Chief Slichow emphasizedthat the keepers ofrations could hardly, in anemergency, give even the appearanceof favoring themselvesin regard to food. Theywould go without. Kolinmaintained a standard expressionas the Chief's sharpstare measured them.
Yrtok, a dark, lean-facedgirl, led the way with a quietmonosyllable. She carried thesmall radio they would bepermitted to use for messagesof utmost urgency. Ammetfollowed, and Kolin broughtup the rear.
To reach their assignedsector, they had to climba forbidding ridge of rockwithin half a kilometer. Onlya sparse creeper grew alongtheir way, its elongated leavesshimmering with bronze-greenreflections against astony surface; but when theytopped the ridge a thick forestwas in sight.