Poems are Made by Fools Like Me

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Very few planet-testing assignments are worth reporting on— except, of course, for the tech reports I do have to make. Those are what the Comity pays me very poorly for, and they are still worth writing. With any luck, they will not only make me a pittance I couldn’t possibly learn to live on, but they will actually save lives, anywhere from one to an entire shipload, or even more if the place reports out as uninhabitable—uninhabitable despite, of course, the wonderful descriptions everybody was so pleased with when the drone ships checked in.

Let me explain how planet-testing works. If you already know this, skip ahead to the double-space, or the beep, or the sunburst, depending on how you’re getting this. If you don’t, though—and a lot of people don’t, because they have the idea that it’s like the stuff on 3V with the heroic Survivor and his twin blasters and his laconic swagger, or whatever the hell that is:

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