Voodoo Planet

MP3 Audio CD. Voodoo Planet

I


Talk of heat--or better not--on Xecho. This water-logged world combined
all the most unattractive features of a steam bath and one could only
dream of coolness, greenness--more land than a stingy string of islands.

The young man on the promontory above the crash of the waves wore the
winged cap of a spaceman with the insignia of a cargo-master and not
much else, save a pair of very short shorts. He wiped one hand absently
across his bare chest and brought it away damp as he studied, through
protective sun goggles, the treacherous promise of the bright sea. One
could swim--if he wanted to lose most of his skin. There were minute
organisms in that liquid that smacked their lips--if they had
lips--every time they thought of a Terran.

Dane Thorson licked his own lips, tasting salt, and plodded back through
the sand of the spaceport to the berth of the Solar Queen. This had
been a long day, and one with more snarl-ups than he cared to count,
keeping him on a constant, dogged trot between the ship and the fitting
yard where riggers labored with the slowest motions possible to the
human body--or so it seemed to the exasperated acting-Cargo-Master of
the Free Trader. Captain Jellico had long ago taken refuge in his cabin
to preserve the remnants of his temper. Dane had been allowed no such
escape.

The Queen had a schedule for refitting to serve as a mail ship, and
that time allowance did not allow for humidity playing the devil with
the innards of robot fitters. She had to be ready to lift when the
Combine ship now plying that run set down and formally signed off in her
favor. Luckily, most of the work was done and Dane had given a last
searching inspection before signing the rigger's book and reporting to
his captain.