Rila Prime was an M class planet, and then some. It had been habitable even before terraforming; after, it was a paradise. Hot and tropical around the equator, with crystal clear sea broken by an intricate, constantly shifting lattice of islands and golden sand banks. Lush, green temperate zones inhabited by the most beautiful, delicious animals genetic science could produce. Further north, the land became rugged and mountainous, eventually giving way to massive slabs of ice reaching miles into the sky, glittering like broken chunks of glass.
And all for one man, your employer, Maxwell Powell, founder of Morforma, the Galaxy's biggest supplier of transgenic technology. This was his planet and his word was law.
Exports: Minimal.
Imports: Anything and everything that Maxwell wanted. Fine wines, whisky, cigars, caviar, priceless Earth antiques, vintage cars and speed boats, and women. Always women. There was one man on Rila Prime, and five thousand women.
The Rila space dock was as beautiful as the planet it orbited. The interstellar earth shuttle looked squat and ugly pressed up against the gleaming, silver space station. You sat alone in the arrivals lounge, waiting patiently as the airlock doors opened and the passengers shuffled in. All women and despite being bedraggled and weakened by hibernation sickness and not having seen a lick of make-up in months, their natural beauty was obvious. Even still, Maxwell's tastes in women were exacting and you inspected each woman closely, making notes on the alterations that would have to be made in order to bring them up to standard - a nose reduction here, breast implants there... They would be keeping you busy for a few days.
You glanced up from your pad as the last few passengers entered the station, your eyes fixing on a