Which is where they made their first mistake, because they paid the fines to the indidges, and Bult and his tribe knew a good thing when they saw it, and before you know it we’re being fined for making footprints, and Bult’s buying technological contamination right and left with the proceeds.

I figured he’d be in the gate area, up to his second knee joint in stuff he’d bought, and I was right. When I opened the door, he was prying open a crate of umbrellas.

“Bult, you can’t charge us with fines the rover incurred,” I said.

He pulled out an umbrella and examined it. It was the collapsible kind. He held the umbrella out in front of him and pushed a button. Lights came on around the rim. “Destruction of land surface,” he said.

I held out his log to him. “You know the regs. The expedition is not responsible for violations committed by any person not an official member of the expedition.’ ”

He was still messing with the buttons. The lights went off. “Bult member,” he said, and the umbrella shot out and open, barely missing my stomach.

“Watch it!” I jumped back. “You can’t incur fines, Bult.”

Bult put down the umbrella and opened a big box of dice, which would make Carson happy. His favorite occupation, next to blaming me, is shooting craps.

“Indidges can’t incur fines!” I said.

“Inappropriate tone and manner,” he said.

I was too tired for this, too, and I still had the reports and the whereabouts to do. I left him unpacking a box of shower curtains and went across to the mess.

I opened the door. “Honey, I’m home,” I called.

“Hello!” C.J. sang out cheerfully from the kitchen, which was a switch. “How was your expedition?”

She appeared in the doorway, smiling and wiping her hands on a towel. She was all done up, clean face and fixed-up hair and a shirt that was open down to thirty degrees north. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said brightly, and then stopped and looked around. “Where’s Evelyn?”