Then he began working his way, slowly, back in the direction of the rendezvous point--a point he had chosen carefully, as Blanchen was no ordinary world.

In addition to the watchmen and the alarms, there were air-surveillance networks at various altitudes. On the previous evening, his vehicle had blocked them effectively on the way down, and presumably had done the same on the way back out. He checked his chrono and whiffed more of the lungcleaning vapors. He had not taken the trouble to have himself conditioned for the airs of Blanchen, in the fashion of the watchmen, laborers and technicians who dwelled there.

Less than forty minutes ...

Blanchen had no oceans, lakes, rivers, streams. Not a trace of indigenous life remained--only an atmosphere to testify that something had once dwelled there. At one point in its more recent history, the notion had been entertained of retaining a worldscaper to beat it into livable shape. It was rejected on two grounds, however: expense, and the fact that an alternative to habitation had been proposed. A combine of manufacturers and shippers had recommended that its dry lands and preservative atmosphere would provide ideal conditions for making use of the entire planet as a warehouse. They offered the discoverers full partnership in the venture, and for their own part wanted to undertake the development and staffing of the world. These terms were acceptable, accepted and accomplished.

Now Blanchen lay like a durrilitic pineapple with millions of eyes. Thousands of interstellar freighters circled constantly, and between them and the hundreds of thousands of landing docks plied the transport vessels, bringing and taking. The three moons of Blanchen served as traffic control centers and rest havens. The ground crews, working out of area centers, moving between docks and warehouses, bringing and taking. Depending upon the output of industry and the demands of the consumer worlds, a particular dock, area or complex might be constantly busy, occasionally busy or seldom used.