Mryna went to the desk and glanced at the typed reports. They had been written by a man who signed himself “Commander in Charge, Guardian Wheel,” and they were addressed to the Congress of the world government. One typed document was a supply inventory; a second, still unfinished, was a budget report. (You won’t show a profit next time, Mryna thought vindictively, when we stop sending you the sacrifice ore.) Another report dealt with Rythar, and Mryna read it with more interest.
One paragraph caught her attention,
“We have asked for soil samples to be taken from an area covering ten thousand square miles. Our chemical analysis has been thorough, and we find nothing that could be remotely harmful to human life. Atmospheric samples produce the same negative results. On the other hand, we have direct evidence that no animal life has ever evolved on Rythar; the life cycle is exclusively botanical.”
The soil samples, Mryna realized, would be the vials of Earth which the Earth-god had requested so often. Were the Earthmen planning to move their hospital down to Rythar? That idea disturbed her. Mryna did not want her garden world cluttered up with a lot of sick, old men discarded by Earth.
She turned to the second page of the report. “The original colony survived for a year. The Sickness in the Old Village developed only after the first harvest of Rytharian-grown food. It is more and more evident that the botanical cycle of Rythar must be examined before we find the answer. To do that adequately, we shall have to send survey teams to the surface; that requires much larger appropriations for research than we have had in the past. The metal immunization suits, which must, of course, be destroyed after each expedition—”
“And what, may I ask, is the meaning of this?”
Mryna dropped the report and swung toward the door. She saw a woman standing there—another hard-faced Earthwoman, with a starched, white cap perched on her graying hair.
“I must have come to the wrong room,” Mryna said in a small voice.
“Indeed! Everyone knows this is command headquarters. Who are you?” The woman put her hand on Mryna’s arm, and the fingers bit through the uniform into Mryna’s flesh.
[p61] Mryna pulled away, drawing her shoulders back proudly. Why should she feel afraid? She stood a head taller than this dried up stranger; she knew the Earthwoman’s strength would be no match for hers.