Citizen in Spase. Stories / Гражданин в Космосе. Рассказы. Книга для чтения на английском языке

If Transterran Steel could be shown inept, careless, accident-ridden, she might lose her charter, to the advantage of Dengue’s company, and Dengue himself.

But Dengue seemed too obvious. Anyone could be responsible. Even little Lerner might have his motives. He really could trust no one. Perhaps he should even consider the natives and their magic – which might be unconscious psi manipulation, for all he knew.

He walked to the doorway and looked out on the scores of tents housing his city of workmen. Who was to blame? How could he find out?

From the hills he could hear the faint, clumsy drums of the planet’s former owners.

He didn’t sleep well that night.

The next day, work went on as usual. The big conveyor trucks lined up, filled with chemicals for the fixation of the nearby swamps. Dengue arrived, trim in khaki slacks and pink officer’s shirt.

“Say, chief,” he said, “I think I’ll go along, if you don’t mind.

“Not at all,” Morrison said, checking out the trip slips.

“Thanks. I like this sort of operation,” Dengue said, swinging into the lead Trailbreaker beside the chartman. “This sort of operation makes me proud to be a human. We’re reclaiming all wasted swamp land, hundreds of square miles of it, and some day fields of wheat will grow where only bulrushes flourished.”

“You’ve got the chart?” Morrison asked Rivera, the assistant foreman.

“Here it is,” Lerner said, giving it to Rivera.

“Yes,” Dengue mused out loud. “Swamp into wheat fields. A miracle of science. And what a surprise it will be for the denizens of the swamp! Imagine the consternation of several hundred species of fish, the amphibians, water fowl, and beasts of the swamp when they find that their watery paradise has suddenly solidified on them! Literally solidified on them; a hard break. But, of course, excellent fertilizer for the wheat.

“All right, move out,” Morrison called. Dengue waved gaily as the convoy started. Rivera climbed into a truck. Flynn, the fix foreman, came by in his jeep.

“Wait a minute,” Morrison said. He walked up to the jeep. “I want you to keep an eye on Dengue.”

Flynn looked blank. “Keep an eye on him?”

“That’s right.” Morrison rubbed his hands together uncomfortably. “I’m not making any accusations, understand.