"I expect progress," he said firmly. "Do you realize that when we finished the last of the forty houses that virtually ended the building program? Work on the two warehouses, the water system, sewage disposal plant and the commissary we planned is almost at a standstill."
"The people want time to finish up their homes and make them comfortable," I objected.
"That's what they say," he told me, "but they're fooling away their time."
"Phil, we've only been here a month, and—"
"And if I hadn't pulled a blue alert," he interrupted, "we wouldn't even have the residentials built yet. Now they've got their precious privacy, and the pressure is off. They'd rather go chasing off into the woods to hunt exotic fruit and peek at the natives than get on with the project."
I hadn't realized things were this serious. "Don't they obey orders any more? What about your work schedules?"
"I've pushed them as hard as I can without forcing a test of my authority," he said. "They claim they deserve time to get adjusted and relax a little before buckling down."
"I agree with them," I said. "They're all serious, industrious people, and this is still an adventure with them. It will wear off pretty soon, and they'll be yearning for comforts of Earth. They'll buckle down when the rainy season hits," I predicted.
"I wonder. Here's one good example. Look over there. Donnegan's food detail is just now returning with its first load. They left three hours ago." He yelled over to the foreman.
Donnegan, a large, pleasant-faced biologist sauntered over to us. Benson said, "Was the expedition successful?"