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Plugsafety. Tell 'em carelessness is bad. It can't hurt anything andactually might help, who knows?"

  "What are you going to do at your end?"

  "What we should have done long ago: finance the insurance ourselves. Forthe next couple of years, we'll only make death claims to Earth for apart of the total. We'll pay off the rest ourselves. Then we'll tell 'emwe've brought the cost down so much that we can afford to do our owninsurance financing.

  "We let this insurance thing ride too long, and it has damn near got usin a jam. We needed the income from Earth. We still could use it, but weneed our independence more."

  "I second the motion," the governor said fervently. "Look, suppose youcome over to my place tonight, and we'll work out the details of thisreport. O.K.? Say at nine?"

  "Fine, Larry. I'll see you then."

  Alhamid went back to his office. He was met at the door by hissecretary, who handed him a sealed envelope. "The Earthman left thishere for you. He said you'd know what to do with it."

  Alhamid took the envelope and looked at the name on the outside. "WhichEarthman?" he asked.

  "The young one," she said, "the blond one."

  "It isn't even addressed to me," Alhamid said with a note of puzzledspeculation in his voice.

  "No. I noticed that. I told him he could send it straight to the school,but he said you would know how to handle it."

  Alhamid looked at the envelope again, and his eyes narrowed a little."Call Captain St. Simon, will you? Tell him I would like to have himcome to my office. Don't mention this letter; I don't want it breezedall over Pallas."

  It was nearly twenty minutes before St. Simon showed up. Alhamid handedhim the envelope. "You have a message from your star pupil. For somereason, he wanted me to deliver it to you. I have a hunch you'll knowwhat that reason is after you read it." He grinned. "I'd appreciate itif you'd tell me when you find out. This Mr. Danley has worried me allalong."

  St. Simon scowled at the envelope, then ripped off one end and took outthe typed sheets. He read them carefully, then handed them over toAlhamid. "You'd better read this yourself, George."

  Georges Alhamid took the pages and began to read.

  Dear Captain St. Simon:

  I am addressing this to you rather than anyone else because I think you will understand more than anyone else. Captain Brand is a fine person, but I have never felt very much at ease with him. (I won't go into the psychological reasons that may exist, other than admit that my reasons are purely emotional. I don't honestly know how much they are based on his disfigurement.) Mr. Alhamid is almost a stranger to me. You are the only Belt man I feel I know well.

  First, I want to say that I honestly enjoyed our three months together. There were times when I could have cheerfully bashed your head in, I'll admit, but the experience has left me feeling more like a real human being, more like a person in my own right, than I have ever felt before in my life. Believe me, I appreciate it deeply. I know now that I can do things on my own without being dependent on the support of a team or a committee, and for that I am grateful.

  Tarnhorst has heard my report and accepted it. His report to the People's Congress will lay the entire blame for the death rate rise on individual carelessness rather than on any fault of management.

  I think, in the main, I am justified in making such a report to Tarnhorst, although I am fully aware that it is incomplete. I know that if I had told him the whole truth there would be a ruckus kicked up on Earth that would cause more trouble in the Belt than I'd care to think about. I'm sure you're as aware of the political situation as I am.

  You see, I know that anchor-setting could be made a great deal safer. I know that machines could be developed which would make the job so nearly automatic that the operator would never be exposed to any more danger than he would be in a ship on the Earth-Luna run. Perhaps that's a little exaggerated, but not much.

  What puzzled me was: _Why?_ Why shouldn't the Companies build these machines if they were more efficient? Why should every Belt man defend the system as it was? Why should men risk their necks when they could demand better equipment? (I don't mean that the equipment presently used is poor; I just mean that full mechanization would do away with the present type of equipment and replace it with a different type.)

  Going through your course of instruction gave me the answer to that, even though I didn't take the full treatment.

  All my life, I've belonged to an organization of some kind--the team, the crew, whatever it might be. But the Team was everything, and I was recognized only as a member of the Team. I was a replaceable plug-in unit, not an individual in my own right. I don't know that I can explain the difference exactly, but it seems to me that the Team is something outside of which the individual has no existence, while the men of the Belt can form a team because they know that each member is self-sufficient in his own right.

  On Earth, we all depend on the Team, and, in the long run, that means that we are depending on each other--but none of us feels he can depend on himself. Every man hopes that, as a member of the Team, he will be saved from his own errors, his own failures. But he knows that everyone else is doing the same thing, and, deep down inside, he knows that they are not deserving of his reliance. So he puts his reliance in the Team, as if that were some sort of separate entity in itself, and had magical, infallible powers that were greater than the aggregate of the individuals that composed it.

  In a way, this is certainly so, since teamwork can accomplish things that mobs cannot do. But the Team is a failure if each member assumes that he, himself, is helpless and can do nothing, but that the Team will do it for him.

  Men who have gone through the Belt training program, men who have "space experience," as you so euphemistically put it, are men who can form a real team, one that will get things done because each man knows he can rely on the others, not only as a team, but as individuals. But to mechanize the anchor-setting phase would destroy all that completely.

  I don't want to see that destroyed, because I have felt what it is to be a part of the Belt team, even though only a small and unreliable part. Actually, I know I was not and could never be a real member of that team, but I was and am proud to have scrimmaged with the team, and I'm glad to be able to sit on the side-lines and cheer even if I can't carry the ball. (It just occurred to me that those metaphors might be a little cloudy to you, since you don't have football in the Belt, but I think you see what I mean.) I imagine that most of the men who have no "space experience" feel the same way. They know they'd never make a go of it out in space, but they're happy to be water boys.

  I wish I could stay in the Belt. I'm enough of a spaceman to appreciate what it really is to be a member of a space society. But I also know that I'd never last. I'm not fitted for it, really. I've had a small taste of it, but I know I couldn't take a full dose. I've worked hard for the influence and security I have in my job, and I couldn't give it up. Maybe this brands me as a coward in your eyes, and maybe I am a coward, but that's the way I'm built. I hope you'll take that into account when you think of me.

  At any rate, I have done what I have done. On Earth, there are men who envy you and hate you, and there will be others who will try to destroy you, but I have done what I could to give you a chance to gain the strength you need to resist the encroachment of Earth's sickness.

  I have a feeling that Tarnhorst saw your greatness, too, although he'd never admit it, even to himself. Certainly something changed him during the last months, even though he doesn't realize it. He came out wanting to help--and by that, he meant help the common people against the "tyranny" of the Companies. He still wants to help the commo
n people, but now he wants to do it _through_ the Companies. The change is so subtle that he doesn't think he's changed at all, but I can see it.

  I don't deserve any thanks for what I have done. All I have done is repay you in the only way I knew how for what you have done for me. I may never see you again, captain, but I will always remember you. Please convey my warmest regards to Captain Brand and to Mr. Alhamid.

  Sincerely,

  Peter Danley

  * * * * *

  Georges Alhamid handed the letter back to St. Simon. "There's your starpupil," he said gently.

  St. Simon nodded.