STIMULUS-REWARD SITUATION [ss], Gene Fisher

"Welcome, Commissioner Rail. Glad to see you on-planet," Kinser, the undersection chief, said as he stepped forward with hand outstretched to where Rail stood in the door of the airboat.

"Thank you, Chief ... ?"

"Kinser, sir."

"Yes, thank you, Chief Kinser." Commissioner Rail stepped onto the loose, drifted sand of the beach. Pursing his lips, he surveyed the island which was to be his headquarters. A warm, moist breeze stirred the cropped hairs on his head, then moved on to stir the fronds of the purplish trees farther up the shore. A bright and translucent atmosphere, gently rolling waves, and a warm, earthy scent completed the picture. To a human this was a place of idyllic peace and calm. Too calm to suit Rail, who turned to face Kinser.

"Where are the natives? I was given to understand that this was a heavily populated planet."

"Yes, sir, it is. As a general rule you can always see a Gangsha somewhere around. But for some reason they never settled here, that's why the island was chosen as a base when setting up six months ago. There are plenty of them on Miyo, that's the next island over there." He motioned toward a dimly visible smudge on the southern horizon. "Here, as I said, there are none."

"Just as well. No need to have the natives underfoot, at least until we're ready to help them. Show me where I'm staying, will you? And send a man to collect my luggage. It was a rough trip down, pilot said something about atmospherics."

Turning on his heel, Rail set off toward the cluster of huts visible down the beach. Kinser followed, amused as Rail tried to keep his footing while walking through the soft sand in space boots. He, on the other hand, with both feet comfortably encased in homemade sandals that allowed the sand to sift through and tickle his toes with pleasant warmth, had no trouble negotiating the slippery surface of the beach. Six months had done much to wear off the square corners imparted by the social tech regulations.

Except for one incident, there was no difficulty in settling Rail in his small prefab. The crewman who had carried Rail's bags, one of the original members of the crew that had set up the base camp, had paused a second before leaving. That pause was at the command of Rail, who looked the man over from rag-tied head, down past the loosely fastened singlet, to the sandaled, dirty feet. He had then dismissed him with a curt nod. After the man's departure, Rail rounded to face Kinser.

"Chief Kinser, isn't there a copy of the dress rules located somewhere in this base camp?"

"I don't know. I imagine there's one around here somewhere. I can get one from the supply ship, if you feel we need it."

"We do, Chief Kinser, we do. I do not wish to criticize unjustly, but there seems to be a deplorable lack of discipline on this planet. Take yourself, for instance."

"Myself, sir?" Kinser looked down at his clothes, virtually a carbon copy of the crewman's who had just left. "What's wrong with them? Oh, of course, I know they're not what we'd wear on a civilized planet, but here on Connemara they're appropriate. It gets a little warm, as you'll find out this afternoon."

"Do not lecture me, Chief Kinser. I've read the scout reports on this planet. But the purpose of our being here is not to have a vacation, nor is it an excuse to relax the rules or discipline. How will the natives learn to respect us, if we do not conduct ourselves as civilized beings?"

"But Commissioner, all the natives go naked! That is, they don't wear anything, except their fur. Moreover, there are no natives here on the island, so how will they see us?"

"Nevertheless, good habits are developed through practice. Once the project is well established, I intend to bring a few of them here for advanced instruction. Please give the order that from now on all crew members are to wear proper clothing. That means boots, tunic, and a decent hair arrangement."

Kinser was mildly irritated by this pettiness, but his face did not show it. "Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, for the moment. Have my lunch brought here at 12:30 hours, I have some reports to read until then. Also tell the men that I wish to speak to them at 13:00 hours in the mess. You may go."

Kinser spun on his heel, admittedly difficult to do in sandals, and clumped out of the prefab. Except for a slight tic that fluttered his left eyelid in time with his pulse, he did not show the implied criticism of Rail's remarks. As he passed the word about dress, he wondered about the impact a man like Michael Rail, Social Administrator Fifth Class, would have on a nice easygoing planet like Connemara. The impression of the first half hour had not presented him with anything to look forward to. Well, time had a way of smoothing all things, including stiff-necked martinets.

Rail's meeting with the assembled men, who were already irritated by wearing tunics in ninety-degree weather, added another dimension to his personality. After bringing the meeting to attention, he gave a speech:

"Men, as some of you are aware, I am the new commissioner for this planet. My name is Rail, Michael Rail. I called this meeting to get acquainted and tell you a few things. Most of you are, I see, already adhering to the standard dress regulations. Good. Continue to do so and the habit will remain when you are viewed by the Gangsha. The other thing I want to mention is the importance of our mission here on Connemara: to educate the Gangsha, by example and instruction, to our level of civilization. We are here as trustees, bearing the torchlight of civilization to this race. I expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly, both as men and as members of the social tech team assigned to this planet. That is all I have to say. Are there any questions? Please state your names on rising."

Smitty, chief cook, clown, and general good fellow of the entire work crew, raised his hand. Rail pointed to him.

"Smith, sir. Pardon me, but what if the dogs don't want to learn? Whatta we do then?"

"Dogs, Mr. Smith? Who are they?"

"Why, the natives, sir, the Gangsha. We've nicknamed them dogs because their faces are doglike and they're always sitting or lying around doing nothing. Like a dog does."

Rail's face turned scarlet. "Mr. Smith, in the future, you," he glared around at the fifty men before him, "and all the men here will refer to the Gangsha as 'the Gangsha' - not by any nicknames. This is an intelligent race, albeit a little slower than we are as yet; but that'll come, that will come. Meanwhile, treat them like the civilized race they'll be when we're through." Rail paused, his anger now partially cooled. "You men are dismissed. We begin phase two on Monday morning."

In the space of four or five minutes no one remained in the mess except Kinser and Rail. The latter walked over to a window and stared at the waves rolling onto the white sand beach before him.

"It is apparent, Chief Kinser, that this base has gone rapidly downhill without a strong guiding hand. I hold you responsible for this; it will go in my report. Dogs, indeed! Tell me, how did such a ridiculous nickname get started?"

"Just as Smith said, Commissioner. They are vaguely doglike in body form. And their customs bear resemblance to dogs on Earth. For instance, they'll sleep twenty-four hours out of twenty-eight, with the rest of the time spent in either eating or running around for exercise. The Gangsha are not the most energetic race, no need for it."

Rail's eyes sparkled. "Then we have a challenge before us. One worthy of my - our - talents as social engineers. Doglike or not, it is our duty to raise them to our level."

"That may be so, Commissioner. But what if they don't want what we offer? They aren't very industrious."

"Then we shall have to motivate them, shan't we? I hope to make an important mark here, Chief. This is my first assignment as a social commissioner on a class-five planet. This is the place to get into the habit of success, then it will continue, as a habit, on my next assignment."

"Yes," Kinser replied noncommittally. Having had some close association with the Gangsha of Connemara, he had his doubts as to their malleability. But that was Rail's problem. Rail resumed:

"I have read the reports concerning this planet, including yours. What do you believe will be our main problem here, aside from the geography? That just means more men, one for each island. Where are we liable to encounter problems?"

"As I mentioned in my report, I don't think the Gangsha will take to what we have to offer. They and their culture are, after all, pretty well adapted to this planet. Mean annual temperature of eighty degrees, no storms to speak of, and no competition as far as dominant wildlife. The paleontologist says they've been the dominant life-form here for at least twenty-thousand years. Their social structure is narrow, with no wild elaborations in culture. What it boils down to is that they don't need anything we have. No problems and no competition means no success drive."

"Hm-m-m. That agrees in the main with what the reports said. Well, we'll just have to inject a serpent into their paradise, to use an old metaphor. As I told the men, phase two will begin on Monday morning. Have the pilot islands been selected and the equipment readied? The sooner we start, the better."

"It's all ready to go. Do you want to tour one of the villages? There's one quite close, on Miyo."

"Yes, we'll go out there tomorrow. Have an airboat ready at 09:00. Until then, I'll be in my prefab if I'm needed: I have to rest, this heat takes getting used to." The commissioner marched out of the mess, back straight, and over to his prefab. Kinser watched him go, shaking his head sadly. Three months ago he had, recommended that the project here be terminated and the planet declared off limits. No answer. From the looks of things though, the only serpent liable to be introduced into this paradise was Commissioner Rail.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, just as it would every morning on this planet of perpetual summer. Promptly at 09:00 the commissioner boarded the airboat, and with Kinser as pilot, flew to the native settlement on Miyo. By human standards it wasn't really a settlement or even a village, unless a small collection of roofed posts constituted one's definition. The population of this community, from what Kinser had been able to gather, was extremely fluid and the cultural concept known as the family was nonexistent. Contact-wise, one or two of the Gangsha had managed to learn a form of pidgin trade talk, but not much. Kinser explained most of this to Rail during the trip over from the base camp.

The airboat landed on the wide beach, close to the mouth of the stream on which the community, for want of a better term, stood. The two men got out and walked toward the shed-houses.

This island had the hypnotic beauty characteristic of the entire planet. Gently rolling hills that graded toward the stream and the sea rose tier on tier toward the island's center. The purplish color of the vegetation shaded darker and darker until, at a distance, it was a black coat that covered the hills. Remarkably, when viewed at close quarters, the plants themselves were not crowded: each plant seemed to keep its distance from another so as to allow all of them the proper amount of light and air. With the sun high in the sky and the sea as a backdrop, it created a picture almost too perfect for the humans to appreciate.

They were not long on their path before Rail met his first Gangsha, or rather, tripped over him as he lay in the middle of the path. A gray furry body, perhaps six feet long, with a lupine head was stretched there. Its legs were bent at an odd angle, but other than that there was nothing particularly doglike about it except the head. Set into the protruding muzzle of dirty grayish-white were four very prominent canine teeth. Even in repose and snoring the Gangsha looked ferocious. But Rail had had experience with many other races who, if judged solely on human criteria looked just as vicious, yet in reality were gentle as doves. Besides, the reports had said that none of the Gangsha were dangerous; indeed, no fighting or competition seemed to exist among them.

Rail spoke to Kinser in a low tone. "Do they always sleep like this? I mean, during the full day and so forth? When do they work or eat?"

"I'm afraid this is normal, Commissioner. They're not as energetic as we are. As for food, see that tree there?" He pointed to a low bush on the right side of the path. "Those round things on it are what they normally eat. We had them analyzed and they have all the proteins, carbohydrates, and fats that they need to thrive. Better still, the trees produce year round. These `fruits' and water are all they need"

"But the teeth? What are they for? Judging solely by appearance I'd say they were carnivores."

"Paley, he's the biologist, says they're not. The teeth are apparently evolutionary holdouts. They do make them look vicious though, don't they? Actually they are extremely gentle, you might even say torpid."

They skirted the sleeping Gangsha and proceeded to the community. Shrill shouts of the Gangsha young greeted them at first, then stopped as they walked into the community circle. There were perhaps as many as twenty-five of the adult Gangsha sleeping, lying propped against trees or under the lean-to roofs, or simply resting from what might have seemed hard and futile labor. The only movement had been from the young and it had stopped. Both men stood in the center of it all. Five minutes of waiting produced nothing, except that some of the youngsters fell over in position and began to snore with high-pitched sounds. The wind sighed in the leaves.

"Don't they have a headman or something? Someone we could speak to?" Rail asked Kinser.

"No. There isn't much social organization, no need for it apparently. One or two speak trade of a sort, but you'll have to wait until one of them wakes up."

"But, but ... who apportions work? How do things get done? Do they do nothing but eat, sleep, and copulate?"

"That's about it from all we've been able to see. All over the planet it's the same thing - plenty of food, perfect weather, and quiet, sleeping Gangsha. It makes you wonder how they survived at all. Sheer inertia, I guess."

Rail looked around, a frozen expression on his face. "We'll have to do something about that," came a half audible phrase. Then louder: "Let's go back to base, there's nothing we can do here." Action suiting words, he reversed himself and marched back to the boat, Kinser in the rear.

Phase two of the project began promptly at 99:00 hours on Monday morning. Twenty airboats, equipped with technical equipment - automatic teachers, tape libraries, and other educational aids - each manned by a social tech, set off on their missions. Each would go into one of the known Gangsha villages and erect a teaching post. After a given period of time, the natives trained there would serve as a nucleus to train others until the entire population was ready for phase three, or elementary technocraft. In the timetable set up in the mess on the commissioner's order, that was to occur in four standard months.

Commissioner Rail stood beside Kinser and both silently watched the teams fly off into the bright horizon. "Well, Chief, it's the dawning of a new day for Connemara and the Gangsha. In a month the first progress reports should be coming in. I'm looking forward to them, for they'll validate our reasons for being here. Being a social tech is a tough, but satisfying, job." A sort of half-grin, half-hopeful expression flitted over his face, then it relapsed into its customary look of mild distaste. The latter matched the inward opinion of Kinser toward Rail, though he had not as yet shown it.

"Yes, Commissioner, it's a new day. Though I have reservations about the speed with which the Gangsha will learn what we have to teach. From all indications, their culture is not oriented in that way. The instruction hasn't much use here as far as applications go."

"Nonsense, Chief Kinser. After all, what choice do they have? No native culture can survive unchanged under the impact of galactic civilization. Why, that's the basic reason we're here, to ease that inevitable transition. As you know full well."

"I don't want to cry wolf, Commissioner, but from the way I see it, the Gangsha are happy here and well adapted to their environment. Actually, they've nothing of a trade nature that we've been able to discover. Although I'm not privy to Council decisions, I am curious about our real purpose here."

"If you must know, Kinser, it was done at my instigation. At the time the report on Connemara's discovery was entered at Social Tech Headquarters, I was in charge of the processing division. Something about the report seemed too good to be true, too like a paradise. So, at my insistence, operations were set into motion to civilize this planet. I was also placed in charge to acquire some field experience."

And to prevent you from bungling a more important project, was the thought that followed in Kinser's mind. Aloud: "Perhaps you're right, Commissioner, and everything will turn out all right. I recommended that this planet be declared off limits, but it seems I was overridden at Headquarters. And now if you will excuse me, I have some work to take care of." He gave the commissioner a salute and walked away.

In a month the reports began to trickle in from the outlying posts on the other islands. In that same month of summers Kinser had had about all he could stand of the commissioner. His conversation, filled with endless platitudes about the service and unleavened with the slightest amount of field experience, had led Kinser to spend more and more of his time at the Gangsha settlement on Miyo. While there, he had increased the trade vocabulary of Kiha, one of the natives, by another fifty words or so. No mean feat, considering that every few minutes the Gangsha drifted off into a deep sleep. Kinser was engaged in another attempt to rouse Kiha when the radio of his airboat began to give off its keening whine. He went over and flicked the switch on the dash. "Kinser here."

"Kinser, this is Commissioner Rail. Have you seen the reports?" "One or two of them. Nothing too unusual, barring a certain lack of progress." He gave a glance at his erstwhile pupil, now sound asleep, muzzle emitting remarkably humanlike snores. "Considering the Gangsha, it was no surprise."

"Well, four more have come in this morning and I've just finished listening to the tapes. 'Certain lack of progress' is not the term for it; no progress would be a better fit. Do you realize that none of the Gangsha, not one, has even offered to try and learn what the social techs are teaching? What's wrong with them, don't they realize that we're trying to ease their way?"

"These things take time, Commissioner. Besides, all the reports aren't in yet." Kinser resisted the urge to say, "I told you so" - why add fire to the insult Rail evidently felt? "When all of them come in, we'll run them through the computer and see if any pattern can be developed. Until then, there's nothing much we can do."

The voice replied, calmer now: "All right, Chief, we'll see what develops. As you say, there's not much we can do. But I have the feeling ... let's say, I think there's something funny going on here. See me on your return to base. Out." The click of the switch cut off further words. Kinser returned his attention to the now stirring Kiha, stretching out of his nap.

"Ah, Kiha," Kinser said in trade talk. "Want you more learn?"

"No, Kinse." The Gangsha had not yet learned to form the r sound, their native language did not possess one. "Feel hungwy. Will eat and ..." a string of incomprehensible Gangsha followed, then: "maby late." Kiha rose and weaved off into the bushes on his powerful legs. Kinser shook his head and boarded his airboat for the trip back to base.

Within three days all twenty of the monthly reports were at base. They simply augmented the first ones received: that is, no Gangsha had made use of the established learning facilities. As he had said, Kinser ran them through the computer, but the only recognizable pattern seemed to lie in the nature of the Gangsha themselves. They didn't need any education, saw no reason for it, and therefore failed to use the facilities.

"But how could they refuse?" Rail fumed. "Don't they realize what a gift we're bringing them? For twenty thousand years these Gangsha, these ... dogs, have lain in this paradise without so much as a single effort to improve themselves. It's... it's disgraceful."

"I wouldn't say that," Kinser replied. "Whatever they could learn would be of no real use to them. For what would they need it? A perfect world and perfect adaption to its requirements. They're happy, why disturb them?"

"Because, Kinser," the commissioner's voice was edged with venom, "this is an expensive operation that was designed to aid the natives with or without their consent. Do you believe that I would allow a black mark against my record simply because they refuse to learn? No, if kindness won't work, perhaps force will."

"I warn you, Commissioner, that I will not tolerate any assaults, on the Gangsha or their social structure. As you are aware, the service has failed before, usually because of some oversight on the part of the administrator involved. But every planet is different. I cannot stand by and see you injure anyone."

"You will, Chief, you will. One way or the other. I give you a choice: either continue as my second here on this project or be locked in your quarters until the next supply ship arrives. Take your pick; either way I will carry forth the project here."

It was in Kinser's mind to tell the fool to go hang, but he simply couldn't take the chance. There was no telling how far the man would go without some kind of check on him. "Since you put it that way, Commissioner, I will continue on as second, under duress. How do you propose to educate an unwilling Gangsha?"

"Simplicity, itself. From all we've been able to observe, they've never been without food or sleep for an exceptional period of time. Well-simply deprive a Gangsha of either until it consents to learn; probably the food first, since that's the easiest. Paley tells me they can take it. Once the barrier has been broken, we'll use the trained one to teach others and set the ball rolling. I've already given orders that a compound be built here at base. When it's completed, we'll get a native or two from Miyo and stock it."

Kinser was appalled by the man's, ruthlessness. "These people are not really dogs to be taught by simple conditioning, Commissioner. Don't you think that this is a little dangerous?"

"Only if we don't get results. And it will work, I assure you. The end sometimes justifies the means, as in this case. When the compound is completed, go over to Miyo and get a couple of Gangsha. You spend enough time over there, should have quite a few friends." Rail gave a nasty giggle. "Make sure that at least one of them speaks no trade - I want an uncontaminated test of this procedure. You're dismissed, Chief." Rail turned his back and strode to his prefab. Kinser felt sick.

Building the compound took only two days. It was a simple fence, fifteen feet high, surrounding a fifty-square-foot area. Inside was a hut for the Gangsha and a table set up for the educational equipment. The door in the wall was keyed to respond to human electromagnetic brain patterns, in this case, only to Commissioner Rail's. When Kinser asked him about it, he replied that he was the one who would run the experiment and he didn't want any interference. To forestall this, Kinser had an emergency override installed on the door just in case. When the compound was completed he went over to Miyo and talked to Kiha.

"Kiha, I need help. Need you, other Gangsha help me. Come over my nest-base. Yes?" He felt like a traitor selling out, but persisted because he knew that Rail was quite capable of sending someone to force two natives over.

"Yes. Will bwing nest-mate-bwothew Meta. We go, now?"

"Yes, if possible."

The Gangsha shambled over to one of the covered sheds with its crooked walk. Kiha spoke rapidly in Gangsha to one of the others lying there. This worthy lumbered to his feet and both went over to the airboat and climbed in. The trip over was uneventful, except that the Gangsha's first reaction to an airboat ride was to fall asleep leaning against one another.

Kinser landed the airboat by the compound. Rail was there, waiting with a satisfied smirk on his face. Kinser walked over to him, leaving the two Gangsha undisturbed.

"Excellent, Chief Kinser, you'll make a social tech yet. Which of them is the trade speaker?"

"The one on the right, Kiha. Meta, one of his relatives, is the other."

"Good. Take Meta and get him into the compound."

"First, Commissioner, I want to know what you're going to do to him. As I told you, I don't want the Gangsha hurt, for any reason."

"I'm simply going to deprive him of food until he consents to learn, a stimulus-reward situation. Most lower forms of life respond to such conditions. I'm sure the Gangsha will also. A few days should do it."

"I give you one week, Commissioner." Kinser had already checked with the biologist and discovered that such a limit was well within the Gangsha's tolerance. "At the end of that time, he comes out. Do I make myself clear?"

"Save your threats for war, Kinser. I'm sure that even within your short time limit, some results will be obtained. Enough to vindicate my methods and show a little success for our months of work here." His voice rose to a shriller tone. "We must, my career depends on it."

Kinser did as he was told, waking up the sleeping Gangsha and getting through to Meta, using the medium of Kiha, what was desired of him. The Gangsha lumbered out of the airboat and into the compound. Inside he made a beeline for the shed, leaned against one of its posts and promptly fell asleep. Rail closed the door on him.

"In three days, Chief, I'll begin. We'll see what results my technique achieves."

Three days later, carrying a bag of the purplish fruits, Rail went into the compound. The door closed behind him. Two hours passed and he came stomping out, bag still full, and headed for his prefab. Although he didn't say anything in the mess that night, Kinser gathered from his expression that the Gangsha did not rush to be educated.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth days went by in the same manner - each day Rail entered the compound with a full bag of fruit and left some two hours later, full bag in his hand and a scowl on his face. Each day it became more and more obvious to everyone but himself that he was failing. On the seventh day, Kinser was waiting at the compound door when Rail arrived. He was surprised to notice that the man wore a shocker on his hip, an advanced form of crowd controller. Rail was about to brush past him without speaking when Kinser put his arm between him and the door.

"One moment, Commissioner. You have now had one week. This is the last day of your experiment: win, lose, or draw, Meta comes out tonight."

"Do not order me, Kinser. I am the commissioner here and what I say is law."

"Not if no one will obey you. As I said, Meta comes out tonight. One more thing. What's the shocker for?"

Rail looked down guiltily. "Ah ... for protection, of course. Did you think I was going to hurt your precious dog?"

Kinser withdrew his arm. "See that you don't, Commissioner," he said curtly and walked away. Behind him he heard the door of the compound close. He was just entering the door of his prefab when he heard the scream.

Kinser set off at a dead run for the compound. The screams came apace, of unearthly piercing notes which ended abruptly in a gurgle. They made the hair on the back of his neck rise. The other men in the area were futilely beating against the door when he came up. He flicked the override and entered, fully expecting to see a dead Gangsha - martyred on the altar of Rail's career.

Inside, lying in a pool of bright crimson, was Rail, his throat torn out and face chewed to shreds. The shocker was still gripped tightly in his right hand. Off to one side, squatting on his haunches and eating fruit out of the bag, was the Gangsha, Meta. Traces of blood stained his face and teeth. He paid no attention to Kinser in the doorway.

Kinser turned and gave an order to the first man behind him. "Get the other Gangsha here, quickly."

When he turned, Meta had already lost interest in the fruit and was peacefully slumbering on the ground beside the man he had killed. A snore soon shook the compound. Kiha came loping up. Kinser let him into the compound and closed the door behind him.

"Kiha, you find what happen. Meta kill commissioner. Why?"

The Gangsha gave a nod and went over to the other sleeping form. A guttural conversation ensued, punctuated with yawns on the part of Meta and arm waves from Kiha. When the conversation was over, Kiha returned to Kinser.

"Meta say commissionew not like you. Say commissionew want Gangsha eat him. Meta no want, so commissionew no feed Meta. Twy to make Meta by no feed. No undewstand Gangsha."

"But ... commissioner not want Meta to eat him! Only want Meta to learn. Try to force him by hunger and not feed."

"No. Not it. Meta say simple. Gangsha once like beast, eat all things. Even beasts. But not now, only eat bushfwuit which ha'm no thing. Is bettew way fo' beasts and Gangsha. Commissionew no leawn that. Meta say he no able to not eat much longew. Ask Commissionew fo' bushfwuit. Commissionew hit with hot stick. Commissionew attack like beast. Meta say only one thing do. Kill beast. But no eat him, eat bushfwuit instead. All happy but beast, and he dead."

Kinser looked at him wishing he could explain, but it was useless. It was obvious that Meta had misunderstood what Rail's intent had been, though that mistake was not half so glaring as the one which the commissioner made that cost him his life. In every way the commissioner was responsible for his own death and with him had died any reason for the social tech team's presence on Connemara. Kinser opened the door and gave orders for the commissioner's body to be removed and the stockade torn down. The two Gangsha he would return personally to Miyo. Then he went to his prefab to think.

Three weeks later, after a supply ship came and removed Rail's body and most of the remaining equipment and personnel, Kinser sat in the same prefab looking out over the blue. sea. At his recommendation, Connemara and the Gangsha had been declared off limits, and tomorrow another ship would come to take himself and the rest off-planet. All he had left of his official duties as chief of section was the final report for the Social Tech HQ. He had been sitting before the blank pad of paper on the desk in front of him all morning, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say what had to be said. Finally, he took the stylus and wrote the report's title in bold letters across the top of the page:

"Let Sleeping Dogs Lie."