Evelyn handed Carson Bult’s log. “He said to tell you these are the fines from the trip in.”

“He wasn’t on the trip in,” Carson said, glaring at the log. “What on hell are these? ‘Destruction of indigenous flora.’ ‘Damage to sand formations.’ ‘Pollution of atmosphere.’ ”

I grabbed the log away from Carson. “Did Bult give you directions back to King’s X?”

“Yes,” Ev said. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong?!” Carson spluttered. “Wrong?!”

“Don’t get in a sweat,” I said. “Bult can’t fine Ev til he’s a member of the expedition.”

“But I don’t understand,” Ev said. “What did I do wrong? All I did was drive the rover—”

“Stir up dust, make tire tracks,” Carson said, “emit exhaust—”

“Wheeled vehicles aren’t allowed off government property,” I explained to Ev, who was looking amazed.

“Then how do you get around?” he asked.

“We don’t,” Carson said, glaring at Bult’s pony, which looked like it was getting ready to keel over again. “Explain it to him, Fin.”

I was too tired to explain anything, least of all Big Brother’s notion of how to survey a planet. “You tell him about the fines while I go get this straightened out with Bult,” I said, and went across the compound to the gate area.

In my log, there’s nothing worse than working for a government with the guilts. All we were doing on Boohte was surveying the planet, but Big Brother didn’t want anybody accusing them of “ruthless imperialist expansion” and riding roughshod over the indidges the way they did when they colonized America.

So they set up all these rules to “preserve planetary ecosystems” (which was supposed to mean we weren’t allowed to build dams or kill the local fauna) and “protect indigenous cultures from technological contamination” (which was supposed to mean we couldn’t give ’em firewater and guns), and stiff fines for breaking the rules.