Man of Many Minds/Chapter 17

Chapter 17
Superintendent Philander stood watching the natives feeding, and he could not help seeing how they appeared to appreciate the new food. After some time he said admiringly, “It looks like you've hit on something, George. If it continues to work out, we'll feed all of 'em this stuff, and I'll requisition plenty more next time the freighter comes in.”

They left the compound, carefully locking both gates behind them, and walked back to the office. Once there, Hanlon said, “I see you have a chess set, sir. Do you play? I love the game.”

“You do?” Philander's eyes gleamed. “It's been a long time since there was anyone here who did.”

“Then I hope you'll let me come in occasionally for a game. I get lonesome here. The other guards aren't worth talking to, and I'm not educated enough in science or technology to get in on the arguments of the engineers and other technies.”

“Sure, sure, come in any time. I'll be mighty glad to have you, for I love chess. I get lonesome, too, and I have to stay a whole year at a time. Feel free to come in any evening.”

Back in his room Hanlon left tremendously satisfied with the evening's work. He had done something for the natives that would help make their intolerable situation more bearable until the time came when they could be freed of their slavery … and he had made a new friend who could prove very useful.

He was very anxious for the next work-period to come, so he could talk to Geck via the voice-transformer. For he was not yet adept enough at telepathy to be sure he had got all the information needed about the use of nitrates in the Guddu's diet.

But the next day when he went to herd his crew from their compound and down into the mine, he could not help noticing at first glance how much sprightlier they looked than the other crews. The minute they had reached the stope he unearthed the machine from its hiding place and got into conversation with the friendly Guddu.

“The food stuff?” he asked eagerly. “Is it something you can use?”

“Oh, yes. An-yon,” Geck almost sputtered in his eagerness, and words tumbled out so swiftly Hanlon could hardly translate them. “It are wonderful! Can you fix so all we can have?”

“Yes, they'll all be fed rations of it from now on, although perhaps not much until the ship can bring more from another planet. I don't know how much we have on hand. But the Boss-man liked my idea, and is going to see to it that there is always some on hand for all the natives. He'll probably spread the word to the other mines and factories, too.”

“Almost us ingest too many last dark,” Geck gave what Hanlon knew was a shamefaced laugh. “It such very good eat us become …” he hesitated.

“Drunk, you mean?” Hanlon laughed. “I can see it might do that to you. You'll have to warn the others about that.”

They chatted away for some minutes, about how much the Guddus appreciated Hanlon's thoughtfulness.

“Say, I just wondered,” Hanlon interrupted Geck's thanks. “Do you have any idea where your planet is located in space? I mean, do you know the suns closest to yours, anything about their distances or magnitudes?”

Geck's thoughts and expression were a blank, and it took most of the work-period even to make him understand what Hanlon was trying to ask. When he did finally manage to grasp the thought-concept, his answer was a decided negative.

“No, An-yon, us know nothing about other sun other planet. Before humans come suppose we only intelligent life anywhere. Things you call suns us thought little fires light sky at night. Wonder many night who build. Wonder what is burn where is nothing. Wonder why only one big fire come day. Wonder why big fire die come night.”

Hanlon's disappointment about that was tempered somewhat when the checker came running into his room where he was resting before dinner, to tell him that his crew had suddenly got out almost half a ton more ore that day than any previous record he had made.

A new cook had come to the mine recently. He had a fox terrier, and Hanlon got into the habit of playing with the dog, to keep up his ability to handle animal minds, and to learn more of the technique. He was always careful to say out loud the command for whatever trick he wanted the animal to perform, but actually he was controlling its brain and nerves and muscles.

One evening he was working thus with the dog when Gorton, his head-wound still bandaged, came into the messhall. Seeing Hanlon with the terrier, his heavy lip curled.

“So th' fair-haired boy's also a animal trainer, eh?”

“That he is,” Cookie said from the doorway leading into the kitchen. “And good, too! He's got Brutus doing things I never knew a dog could do.”

Gorton sneered again. “Teachin' tricks t' a dog is kid stuff.”

“Can you do it?” the cook asked sarcastically.

“Who'd bother t' try?”

Hanlon looked up, blandly. “You couldn't expect that of Mr. Gorton, Cookie. To teach an animal to do tricks you have to know more than it does.”

“Why, you …” Gorton started forward, his face aflame, while the other men roared with laughter at the rough wit.

But the big guard did not reach Hanlon. One of the newer guards, a giant Swede named Jenssen, stopped him. “Aw, lay off the kid, Gort. He's okay. That stunt of feeding the Greenies fertilizer makes 'em turn out lots more work, and we'll get us bigger bonuses 'cause of it.”

But Gorton was not the type to know when to quit. Nor was he high enough in the ethical scale to know appreciation for the fact that it was the very man he had been reviling who was the first to go to his aid when he was hurt.

Hanlon had come to realize that the big man was determined to provoke him to another fight. He knew that tempers were edgy and explosive in this enervating heat, and usually tried to bear Gorton's insults and petty meannesses in silence. He wouldn't demean himself by descending to the big guard's low level … although occasionally, when the heat was too much even for him, as tonight, he couldn't resist making some answer.

Gorton, he had long since decided, was one of those men who, having nothing of worth to offer the world, did their utmost to tear down and humiliate anyone who had. And his smallness of soul and intellect were shown by the sort of tricks he was continually pulling, thinking them smart.

Such as scrawling with chalk on Hanlon's room door, “Super's pet”; continually upsetting Hanlon's beverage cup, or “accidentally” dropping things in Hanlon's plate of food.

The young SS man could have moved to another place at the table, but he wouldn't give the big guard that satisfaction.

But one of Gorton's tricks backfired to such an extent that it had disastrous results for Gorton himself. That was the night he, knowing that Hanlon had been the last at the compound, sneaked out and unlocked all the gates. He figured, of course, that it would be apparent to everyone that it was Hanlon's rank carelessness that had allowed all the Greenies to escape.

But to the surprise of everyone—except Hanlon—not a single one had left; all were inside their huts the next morning.

Philander came running when he heard about it. “Who did it?” he demanded angrily.

“Th' punk there, o' course!” Gorton sneered.

Philander swivelled about, surprise on his face. “You, George? Did you forget to lock the gates?”

“No, sir, I locked them all when I went in to dinner.”

“He's lyin'. He was th' last one t' bring up his gang.”

“That's true, I was. But I know I locked all the gates very carefully, as always.”

One of the engineers spoke up. “I saw him doing it, Pete. I also saw one of the other guards leave the messhall for a few minutes just before we sat down to eat. When he came back I saw him grinning mysteriously as though very self-satisfied about something.”

“Who was that?”

“Sorry, I name no names.”

“I tell,” big Jenssen spoke up. “It was Gort. He's got it in for George. He's one big fool!”

Philander wheeled in rage. “I told you, you brainless slob, to leave Hanlon alone, and by Jupiter, I mean it! Cut it out! One more stunt, and you go into irons, then back to Sime for an interview with His Highness. You go back next trip anyway. I'm done with you.”

The rest of the men stood by in hostile silence, and it was clear from their attitudes that this time Gorton had gone too far. How it happened none of the natives had run away, puzzled them all.

But Hanlon guessed, and when he had taken his crew down to work he called Geck to him, and by means of the transformer asked about it.

“Was one Guddu in hut by main gate who first see gate were open. Him mind-tell all we to run far into forest. This crew us stop all they. Tell other Guddu how kind are you. How you get we ‘oigm’-food. Tell how you's work to make all we free; make free all Guddu everywhere. Us say maybe so we's all get free now small time. But say come humans with shock-rod, hunt we, hurt we, make we work more hard, be more cruel to we. Say then plan of you never get chance to make all we free all time.”

Hanlon bowed his head in silent thanks for the tremendous compliment. “I only hope I can justify your faith in me, Geck,” he said humbly. “It will be a miracle if I can bring it about, but I certainly intend to keep on trying. It will take some time, you know that. I can't possibly do anything until after I leave here. But if it's humanly possible, I'll bring the fleet here to free you.”

“Us know will be hard, that maybeso it never come we be free,” the Guddu said. “But us know you are only hope. So us help you all us can. Guddu in mines try get more rock out as you say. But Guddu who help humans build big egg you call ‘ships’ do most. Each day some of they find way break something, do wrong thing. Two Guddu spoil much metal when jump in vat where metal be melt.”

“Oh, no!” Hanlon cried in shocked anguish. “That was wonderfully brave of them, but none of the others must ever do things like that! Tell them not to sacrifice their lives that way! I feel sure from all the reports it isn't needed. I'll be going back in another few weeks, and the humans won't have any of those biggest ships ready by then. Those are the only ones we need to fear—the little ships don't count.”

It was too bad Hanlon did not know what else the humans were building, besides ships, at the shipyards.

Hanlon's campaign to “get in good” with Philander was bearing tasty fruit, for the two were becoming fast friends. They spent many evenings over a hotly-contested chess board. It was plain now that the nervous, worried superintendent felt he could relax in the company of this young, naive guard, for the latter was so patently no challenge to his position. Besides, it was also very evident that he liked Hanlon as a man. Day by day his attitude grew more fatherly.

Hanlon, on his part, came to realize more the true, innate measure of Philander's inherent worth as a man, a gentleman, and an engineer. He had a fine mind, was well read, and thought deeply on many subjects outside his own technical line.

“All he needs are some psychiatric treatments to reduce that awful inferiority complex of his,” Hanlon mused one night as he walked back slowly to his room. “Then he'll really be the big, fine man he's capable of being, and will forget all this conspiracy nonsense.”

Thus Hanlon felt he was taking no special chance one night when the two were standing on the little porch of the office, their game ended, and Hanlon about to leave. He glanced up at the brilliant night sky.

“Sure looks different here than it does back on Terra,” he said conversationally. “Naturally it would, seeing we're so far away from there. But I never get tired of looking at it, and trying to see if I can figure out some of the brighter suns.” He pointed to one bright star directly overhead. “That's Sirius, I know. It's always directly above you.”

Philander laughed heartily. “No, Sirius is almost exactly opposite. Don't forget we're about a hundred light years out from Sol.”

Hanlon made himself look crestfallen. “And there I was sure I knew one of 'em, at least.” He yawned pretentiously. “Well, guess I'll hit the hay. Reckon the stars'll stay put, whether I can pick 'em out or not.”

Philander laughed again, and clapped him on the back in comradely fashion. “I wouldn't wonder. Goodnight, George.”

“'Night, Mr. Philander.” And as Hanlon walked back to his own room his heart was light. He'd learned another important fact about their location in space—the approximate distance from Sol.