"I'm sharpening them up, Boss, giving them a real, fine edge. They'll cut through any fungus on the planet."
And more than a swollen stem, thought the agent, as he replaced the machete. He remembered a time two seasons back, or perhaps three, when two crews had fallen out, each accusing the other of cheating. Then the machetes had been used as swords. Even now he could remember the mess, the blood and the cries of the wounded.
"The rafts," he said. "I want them all ready to operate within five hours."
"They're ready now, Boss." Wandara sounded hurt. "You didn't think I'd play around with machetes if the rafts needed checking?"
"No," said Zopolis. Pride, he thought. I've hurt his pride. Aloud he said, "I'm sorry. It was foolish of me to ask."
The overseer grunted, mollified. "Starting to harvest, Boss?"
"Soon. I'm taking a survey to check the state of the crop. If it's ready we'll start right away. In any case, you can pass the word that we'll be needing men."
"Sure, Boss. The same terms?"
"Piecework, yes, but we've got to cut the price by five percent." Zopolis didn't look at the other man. "It isn't my doing," he said. "I'm just following orders. It's a reduction all along the line."
"The processing sheds too?"
"Yes, but we'll reserve those jobs for the weak and incapable." The ones who've starved too much and too long, he thought, the ill, the chronically sick, the dying. "I'll have a word with Brother Glee about that. He'll know who to pick." He glanced sharply at the overseer. "Something on your mind?"
"Heldar, Boss, I don't want him around."
"Why not? He's a regular."
"He's trouble. There's talk of someone moving claim markers and stealing original finds. I don't figure on letting him use our rafts and our time for his own business."
"He was on scout duty," mused Zopolis thoughtfully. "It would give him the opportunity. Do you think he's guilty?"
Wandara shrugged. "I don't know, Boss. He could be; he knows a lot about electronics and could rig up a detector. I just don't want him around."
"Ground him," decided the agent. "Put him to work here in the sheds. Give him three days; and if he starts to loaf, get rid of him."
Leaving the overseer, he walked down the shed to where the door stood open. He opened it still more and stepped outside. The sun was nearing its zenith and the heat was stifling. The dull red light of the sun stained the ground, the buildings and the faces of those walking about the station, so that it seemed they all lived in a giant oven.
He caught a glimpse of motion and turned. A raft was rising from Hightown, anti-gravity plates robbing it of weight and the engine sending it silently through the air. Beneath a transparent canopy, a cluster of tourists sat in air-conditioned comfort. They were all looking downward at the weird forest of colorful growths spreading all around the station to the limits of visibility.
Zopolis sighed, envying them a little. They could sit and watch and wonder at the fantastic configurations of the exotic fungi, at their monstrous size, endless variety and incredible rate of growth. He had to test and judge and select the exact moment to commence the harvest. If it were too early, the crop would lack flavor, if too late, there would be no time to gather the quantity needed to make the operation a financial success. The fungi would reach maturity, produce spores, lose quality, and, worse, perhaps be contaminated by harmful elements.
Not for the first time he wished that he had taken up a different profession.
* * *
The entertainment had been discreetly advertised as a program of strange and unusual practices of a cultural nature collected on a score of primitive worlds. To Adrienne it was a monotonous collection of boring filth.
The whippings didn't disturb her and neither did the flayings, cuttings, scarification of tender organs and feats of drug-assisted endurance; Eldfane had hardened her to the spectacle of pain. On that rough world, punishment was public and, if any sightseers gained an erotic satisfaction from the spectacle it was an unintentional bonus. To her, pain was meant to hurt and nothing else. As for the rest, she grew impatient with the sighs and inhalations of the others crowded in the small auditorium. Surely there was nothing strange about sex.
Impatiently she turned, searching for her maid. The girl sat with her eyes enormous, her moist lips parted and her body twitching in time to the hiss and crack of the whip. Colors from the three-dimensional representation flowed over her flawless skin and touched her dark hair with shimmers of rainbow brilliance.
"Keelah!"
The girl blinked. "My lady?"
"Attend me!" Adrienne rose, careless of the comfort of those to either side and careless of those she thrust aside on her way to the exit. The anxious entrepreneur bowed as she approached.
"My lady, I trust the performance did not offend?"
"You did ill to invite me," she snapped. "The factor will hear of this, and," she added, "it would not be for you to visit either Jest or Eldfane. My father has a way of dealing with vermin of your kind."
"My lady?"
"Stripped," she said brutally, "castrated, blinded and released in the streets as sport for the mob."
Regally she swept through the corridors of Hightown. A scarlet shadow detached itself from a bench and fell into step at her side.
"Do you return to the ship, my lady?"
She did not look at the cyber. "You have some other suggestion?"
"A raft could be hired if you wish to see Scar. The growths at this time of the season are extremely interesting. The visual aspect, too, is most unusual."
With an effort she restrained her temper, remembering who the cyber was and what he represented. The Cyclan was quick to avenge any injury or slight done to its members.
"Thank you, Yeon, but no." Spitefully she added, "Have you any other suggestions?"
"There are always the information tapes on Jest, my lady."
Irritably she thinned her lips, half suspecting him of irony. Surely he must know that she was in no mood for education. A guard at the exit bowed as they approached, opened the first door and bowed again as they passed. There were two more doors and a second guard stood before the final barrier. As they passed into the open air a man flung himself at her feet.
"My lady! Of your charity, save a dying man!"
She stepped back, suddenly fearful. Assassins had been known to adopt strange disguises.
"Please, my lady!" Heldar raised distorted features to her. "A word with your husband on my behalf-a single word!" His voice rose as she stepped farther back. "At least let me spin again! It is my life, my lady, my life!"
"What is this?" Anger replaced her fear. Where were the guards, the retinue without which one of her station should never be without. "Who are you?"
Yeon stepped between the groveling suppliant and the woman. "Attend your mistress," he said to the girl and then he said to Adrienne, "My lady, do not concern yourself; the man is distraught. With your permission, I will attend to the matter."
She nodded and swept towards the ship, fuming with rage. I, the queen of a world, to be treated so! And still Jocelyn refuses to leave this backward place. Still he insists on playing his stupid games, making his stupid promises and talking all the time of destiny and fate.
But there was one thing at least she could do.
"Quick-time?" Jocelyn rose from his chair as she burst into his cabin with her demand. "Are you so bored?"
"I am."