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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae023fe --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51320 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51320) diff --git a/old/51320-h.zip b/old/51320-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 82d628d..0000000 --- a/old/51320-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51320-h/51320-h.htm b/old/51320-h/51320-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e634e9b..0000000 --- a/old/51320-h/51320-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1547 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Break a Leg, by Jim Harmon. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Break a Leg, by Jim Harmon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Break a Leg - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: February 28, 2016 [EBook #51320] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAK A LEG *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="377" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>BREAK A LEG</h1> - -<p>By JIM HARMON</p> - -<p>Illustrated by GAUGHAN</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction November 1957.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>The man worth while couldn't be allowed<br /> -to smile ... if he ever laughed at himself,<br /> -the entire ship and crew were as good as dead!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>If there is anything I am afraid of, and there probably is, it is -having a rookie Accident Prone, half-starved from the unemployment -lines, aboard my spaceship. They are always so anxious to please. They -remember what it is like to live in a rathole behind an apartment -house furnace eating day-old bread and wilted vegetables, which doesn't -compare favorably to the Admiralty-style staterooms and steak and -caviar they draw down in the Exploration Service.</p> - -<p>You may wonder why anybody should make things so pleasant for a grownup -who can't walk a city block without tripping over his own feet and who -has a very low life expectancy on Earth due to the automobiles they are -constantly stepping in front of and the live wires they are fond of -picking up so the street won't be littered.</p> - -<p>The Admiralty, however, is a very thorough group of men. Before they -open a planet to colonization or even fraternization, they insist on -knowing just what they are up against.</p> - -<p>Accident Prones can find out what is wrong with a planet as easily -as falling off a log, which they will if there is one lonely tree on -the whole world. A single pit of quicksand on a veritable Eden of a -planet and a Prone will be knee-deep in it within an hour of blastdown. -If an alien race will smile patronizingly on your heroic attempts at -genocide, but be offended into a murderous religious frenzy if you blow -your nose, you can take the long end of the odds that the Prone will -almost immediately catch a cold.</p> - -<p>All of this is properly recorded for the next expedition in the -Admiralty files, and if it's any consolation, high officials and screen -stars often visit you in the hospital.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Charlie Baxter was like all of the other Prones, only worse. Moran III -was sort of an unofficial test for him and he wanted to make good. We -had blasted down in the black of night and were waiting for daylight to -begin our re-survey of the planet. It was Charlie's first assignment, -so we had an easy one—just seeing if anything new had developed in the -last fifty years.</p> - -<p>Baxter's guard was doubled as soon as we set down, of course, and -that made him fidgety. He had heard all the stories about how high -the casualty rate was with Prones aboard spaceships and now he was -beginning to get nervous.</p> - -<p>Actually Charlie was safer in space than he would be back on Earth -with all those cars and people. We could have told him how the Service -practically never lost a Prone—they were too valuable and rare to -lose—but we did not want him to stop worrying. The precautions we -took to safeguard him, the armed men who went with him everywhere, the -Accident Prone First Aid Kit with spare parts for him, blood, eyes, -bone, nerves, arms, legs, and so forth, only emphasized to him the -danger, not the rigidly secured safety.</p> - -<p>We like it that way.</p> - -<p>No one knows what causes an accident prone. The big insurance -companies on Earth discovered them when they found out in the last part -of the nineteenth century that ninety per cent of the accidents were -happening to a few per cent of the people. They soon found out that -these people were not malingering or trying to defraud anybody; they -simply had accidents.</p> - -<p>I suppose everything from psychology to extra-sensory perception has -been used to explain or explain away prones. I have my own ideas. I -think an accident prone is simply a super-genius with a super-doubt of -himself.</p> - -<p>I believe accident prones have a better system of calculation than a -cybernetic machine. They can take <i>everything</i> into consideration—the -humidity, their blood sugar, the expression on the other guy's -face—and somewhere in the corners and attic of their brain they -<i>infallibly</i> make the <i>right</i> choice in any given situation. Then, -because they are incapable of trusting themselves, they do exactly the -opposite.</p> - -<p>I felt a little sorry for Charlie Baxter, but I was Captain of the -<i>Hilliard</i> and my job was to keep him worried and trying. The worst -thing that can happen is for a Prone to give up and let himself sink -into the fate of being a Prone. He will wear the rut right down into a -tomb.</p> - -<p>Accident Prones have to stay worried and thinking, trying to break -out of the jinx that traps them. Usually they come to discover this -themselves, but by then, if they are real professionals with a career -in the Service, they have framed the right attitude and they keep it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Baxter was a novice and very much of an amateur at the game. He didn't -like the scoring system, but he was attached to the equipment and -didn't want to lose it.</p> - -<p>His clumsiness back on Earth had cost him every decent job he ever had. -He had come all the way down the line until he was rated eligible only -for the position of Prone aboard a spaceship. He had been poor—hungry, -cold, wet, poor—and now he had luxury of a kind almost no one had in -our era. He was drunk with it, passionately in love with it. It would -cease to be quite so important after a few years of regular food, clean -clothes and a solid roof to keep out the rain. But right now I knew he -would come precariously close to killing to keep it. Or to being killed.</p> - -<p>He was ready to work.</p> - -<p>I knocked politely on his hatch and straightened my tunic. I have -always admired the men who can look starched in a uniform. Mine always -seemed to wrinkle as soon as I put them around my raw-boned frame. -Sometimes it is hard for me to keep a military appearance or manner. I -got my commission during the Crisis ten years back, because of my work -in the reserve unit that I created out of my employees in the glass -works (glassware blown to order for laboratories).</p> - -<p>Someone said something through the door and I went inside.</p> - -<p>Bronoski looked at me over the top of his picture tape from where he -lay on the sofa. No one else was in the compartment.</p> - -<p>"Where is Baxter?" I asked the hulking guard. My eyes were on the sofa. -My own bed pulled out of the wall and was considerably inferior to -this, much less Baxter's bed in the next cabin. But then I am only a -captain.</p> - -<p>Bronoski swung his feet off the couch and stood more or less in what I -might have taken for attention if I hadn't known him better. "Sidney -and Elliot escorted him down to the men's room, Captain Jackson."</p> - -<p>"You mean," I said very quietly, "that he isn't in his own bath?"</p> - -<p>"No sir," Bronoski said wearily. "He told us it was out of order."</p> - -<p>I stifled the gurgle of rage that came into my throat and motioned -Bronoski to follow me. The engines on the <i>Hilliard</i> were more likely -to be out of order than the plumbing in the Accident Prone's suite. No -effort was spared to insure comfort for the key man in the whole crew.</p> - -<p>One glance inside the compartment at the end of the corridor satisfied -me. There wasn't a thing wrong with the plumbing, so Baxter must have -had something in mind.</p> - -<p>On a hunch of my own, I checked the supply lockers next to the airlock -while Bronoski fired questions at my back. Three translator collars -were missing. Baxter had left the spaceship and gone off into an alien -night.</p> - -<p>Elliot and Sidney, the guards, were absolutely prohibited from -interfering in any way with a Prone's decisions. They merely had to -follow him and give their lives to save his, if necessary.</p> - -<p>I grabbed up a translator collar and tossed one to Bronoski. Then, just -as we were getting into the airlock, I remembered something and ran -back to the bridge.</p> - -<p>The thick brown envelope I had left on my desk was gone. I had shown -it to Baxter and informed him that he should study it when he felt so -inclined. He had seemed bored with the idea then, but he had come back -for the report before leaving the ship. The envelope contained the -exploration survey on Moran III made some fifty years before.</p> - -<p>I unlocked a desk drawer with my thumb print and drew out a duplicate -of the report. I didn't have too much confidence in it and I hoped -Charlie Baxter had less. Lots of things can change on a planet in fifty -years, including its inhabitants.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bronoski picked up Baxter's tracks and those of the two guards, Elliot -and Sidney, with ultra-violet light. They were cold splotches of green -fire against the rotting black peat of the jungle path. The whole dark, -tangled mess smelled of sour mash, an intoxicating bourbon-type aroma.</p> - -<p>I jogged along following the big man more by instinct than anything -else, ruining my eyes in an effort to refresh my memory as to the -contents of the survey report in the cheery little glow from my -cigarette lighter.</p> - -<p>The lighter was beginning to feel hot to my fingers and I started to -worry about radiation leak, although they are supposed to be guaranteed -perfectly shielded. I read that before the last exploration party had -left, they had made the Moranite natives blood brothers. Then Bronoski -knocked me down.</p> - -<p>Actually he put his hands in the small of my back and shoved politely -but firmly. Just the same, I went face down into the moist dirt fast -enough.</p> - -<p>I raised my head cautiously to see if Bronoski would shove it back -down. He didn't.</p> - -<p>I could see through the stringy, alcoholic grass fairly well and there -were Baxter, Elliot and Sidney in the middle of a curious mob of aliens.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="600" height="383" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Charlie Baxter had got pretty thin on his starvation diet back on -Earth. He had grown a slight pot belly on the good food he drew down as -Prone, but he was a fairly nice-looking young fellow. He looked even -better in the pale moonlight, mixed amber and chartreuse from the twin -satellites, and in contrast to the rest of the group.</p> - -<p>Elliot Charterson and Sidney Von Elderman were more or less type-cast -as brawny, brainless bodyguards. Their friends described them as -muscle-bound apes, but other people sometimes got insulting.</p> - -<p>The natives were less formidable. They made the slight lump of fat -Charlie had at his waist look positively indecent.</p> - -<p>The natives were <i>skinny</i>. How skinny? Well, the only curves they had -in their bodies were their bulging eyeballs. But just because they were -thin didn't mean they were pushovers. Whips and garrotes aren't fat and -these looked just as dangerous.</p> - -<p>Whenever I see aliens who are so humanoid, I remember all that Sunday -supplement stuff about the Galaxy being colonized sometime by one -humanlike race and the Ten Lost Tribes and so forth.</p> - -<p>They didn't give me much time to think about it just then. The natives -looked unhappy—belligerently unhappy.</p> - -<p>I began to shake and at the same time to assure myself that I didn't -have anything to worry about, that the precious Accident Prone would -come out of it alive. After all, Elliot and Sidney were there to -protect him. They had machine guns, flame-throwers, atomic grenades, -and some really potent weapons. They could handle the situation. I -didn't have a thing to worry about.</p> - -<p>So why couldn't I stop shaking?</p> - -<p>Maybe it was the way the natives were slowly but deliberately forming a -circle about Charlie and his bodyguards.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The clothing of the Moranites hadn't changed much, I noticed. That was -understandable. They had a non-mechanical civilization with scattered -colonies that it would take a terrestrial season to tour by animal cart.</p> - -<p>An isolated culture like that couldn't change many of its customs. -Then Charlie shouldn't have any trouble if he stuck to the findings on -behavior in the report. Naturally, that meant by now he had discovered -the fatal error.</p> - -<p>The three men were just standing still, waiting for the aliens to make -the first move. The natives looked just as worried as Charlie and his -guards, but then that might have been their natural expression.</p> - -<p>I jumped a little when the natives all began to talk at once. The -mixture of sound was fed to me through my translator collar while the -cybernetic unit back on board the spaceship tried decoding the words. -It was too much of an overload and, infuriatingly, the sound was cut -out altogether. I started to rip my collar off when the natives stopped -screeching and a spokesman stepped forward.</p> - -<p>The native slumped a little more than the others, as if he were more -relaxed, and his eyes didn't goggle so much. He said, "We do not -understand," and the translation came through fine.</p> - -<p>Baxter swallowed and started forward to meet the alien halfway. His -boot slipped on the wet scrub grass and I saw him do the desperate -little dance to regain his balance that I had seen him make so many -times; he could never stay on his feet.</p> - -<p>Before he could perform his usual pratfall, Sidney and Elliot were -at his sides, supporting him by his thin biceps. He glared at them -and shrugged them off, informing them wordlessly that he would have -regained his balance if they had given him half a chance.</p> - -<p>"We do not understand," the native repeated. "Do you hold us in so much -contempt as to claim <i>all</i> of us as your brothers?"</p> - -<p>"All beings are brothers," Charlie said. "We were made blood brothers -by your people and my people several hundred of your years ago."</p> - -<p>Charlie's words were being translated into the native language, of -course, but Bronoski's collars and mine switched them back into -Terrestrial. I've read stories where explorers wearing translators -couldn't understand each other, but that isn't the way it works. If you -listen closely, you make out the words in your own language underneath, -and if you pay very close attention, you can find minor semantic -differences in the original words and the echo translated back from a -native language.</p> - -<p>I was trying to catch both versions from Charlie. I knew he was making -a mistake and later I wanted to be sure I knew just what it was. -Frankly, I would have used the blood-brother gambit myself. I had also -read about it in the survey report, as I made a point of telling you. -This just proves that Accident Prones haven't secured the franchise on -mistakes. The difference is that I would have gone about it a lot more -cautiously.</p> - -<p>"Enough of this," the native said sharply. "Do you claim to be <i>my</i> -brother?"</p> - -<p>"Sure," Charlie said.</p> - -<p>Dispassionately but automatically, the alien launched himself at the -Prone's throat.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Charterson and Von Elderman instantly went into action. Elliot -Charterson jumped to Charlie's assistance while Sidney Von Elderman -swung around to protect Charlie from the rest of the crowd.</p> - -<p>But the defense didn't work.</p> - -<p>The other aliens didn't try to get to Baxter, but when they saw Elliot -start to interfere with the two writhing opponents, they clawed him -down into the grass. Sidney had been set to defend the Prone, not his -fellow guard. They might have been all right if he had pulled a few -off Elliot and let him get to work, except his training told him that -the life of a guard did not matter a twit, but that a Prone must be -defended. He started toward Charlie Baxter and was immediately pulled -down by a spare dozen of the mob.</p> - -<p>It all meant one thing to me. The reaction of the crowd had been -spontaneous, not planned. That meant that the struggle between Charlie -and the spokesman was a high order of single combat with which it was -unholy, indecent and dastardly to interfere.</p> - -<p>I could fairly hear Bronoski's steel muscles preparing for battle as -he saw his two mammoth pals go down under the press of numbers. A -bristle-covered bullet of skull rose out of the grass beside me and it -was my turn to grind his face in the muck.</p> - -<p>I had a nice little problem to contend with.</p> - -<p>I knew the reason Baxter had slipped out at night to be the first to -greet the aliens. He was determined to be useful and necessary without -fouling things up. I suppose Charlie had never felt valuable to anyone -before in his life, but at the same time it hurt him to think that he -was valuable only because he was a misfit.</p> - -<p>He had decided to take a positive approach. If he did things right, -that would be as good proof of conditions as if he made the mistakes he -was supposed to do. But he couldn't lick that doubt of himself that had -been ground into him since birth and there he was, in trouble as always.</p> - -<p>Now maybe Bronoski and I could get him out ourselves by a direct -approach, but Charlie would probably lose all self-confidence and sink -down into accepting himself as an Accident Prone, a purely passive -state.</p> - -<p>We couldn't have that. We had to have Charlie acting and thinking and -therefore making mistakes whose bad examples we could profit by.</p> - -<p>As I lay on my belly thinking, Charlie was putting up a pretty good -fight with the stringy native. He got in a few good punches, which -seemed to mystify the native, who apparently knew nothing of boxing. -Naturally Charlie then began wrestling a trained and deadly wrestler -instead of continuing to box him.</p> - -<p>I grabbed Bronoski by his puffy ear and hissed some commands into -it. He fumbled out a book of matches and lit one for me. By the tiny -flicker of light, I began tearing apart my lighter.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I suppose you have played "tickling the dragon's tail" when you were a -kid. I did. I guess all kids have. You know, worrying around two lumps -of fissionable material and just keeping them from uniting and making -a critical mass that will result in an explosion or lethal radiation. -I caught my oldest boy doing it one day back on Earth and gave him a -good tanning for it. Actually I thought it showed he had a lot of grit. -Every real boy likes to tickle the dragon's tail.</p> - -<p>Maybe I was a little old for it, but that's what I was doing there in -the Moran III jungle.</p> - -<p>I got the shield off my cigarette lighter and jerked out the dinky -little damper rods for the pile and started easing the two little -bricks toward each other with the point of my lead pencil.</p> - -<p>I heard something that resembled a death rattle come from Charlie's -throat as the fingers of the alien closed down on it and my hand -twitched. A blooming light stabbed at my eyes and I flicked the lighter -away from me.</p> - -<p>The explosion was a dud.</p> - -<p>It lit up the jungle for a radius of half a mile like a giant -flashbulb, but it exploded only about ten times as loud as a pistol -shot. The mass hadn't been slapped together hard enough or held long -enough to do any real damage.</p> - -<p>The natives weren't fools, though. They got out of there fast. I wished -I could have gone with them. There was undoubtedly an unhealthy amount -of radiation hanging around.</p> - -<p>"Now!" I told Bronoski.</p> - -<p>He ran into the clearing and found four bodies sprawled out: Charlie -Baxter, his two guards and the native spokesman.</p> - -<p>Charlie and the native were both technically unconscious, but they each -had a stranglehold on each other, with Charlie getting the worst of it.</p> - -<p>Bronoski pried the two of them apart.</p> - -<p>While he roused Sidney and Elliot from their punch-drunk state, I -examined Charlie. He had a nasty burn on his leg and two toes were -gone. If there was an explosion anywhere around, he was bound to be in -front of it.</p> - -<p>He was abruptly choking and blinking watery eyes.</p> - -<p>"You did it, Charlie," I lied. "You beat him fair and square."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Charlie was in bed for the next few days while his grafted toes grew -on, but he didn't seem to mind.</p> - -<p>We knew enough not to use the blood-brothers approach after fifty years -and therefore it did not take us long to find out why we shouldn't.</p> - -<p>The Moran III culture was isolated in small colonies, but we had -forgotten that a generation of the intelligent life-forms was only -three Earth months. It seems a waste at first thought, but all things -are relative. The Crystopeds of New Lichtenstein, for instance, have a -life span of twenty thousand Terrestrial years.</p> - -<p>With so fast a turnover in Moran III individuals, there was bound to be -a lot of variables introduced, resulting in change.</p> - -<p>The idea that seemed to be in favor was the survival of the fittest. -Since the natives were born in litters, with single births extremely -rare, this concept was practiced from the first. Unless they were -particularly cunning, the runts of the litter did not survive the first -year and rarely more than one sibling ever saw adulthood.</p> - -<p>Obviously, to claim to be a native's brother was to challenge him to a -test of survival.</p> - -<p>My men learned to call themselves Last Brother in the usual bragging -preliminaries that preceded every encounter. We got pretty good results -with that approach and learned a lot about the changes in customs in -the half century. But finally one of the men—either Frank Peirmonte or -Sidney Charterson, who both claim to be the one—thought of calling the -crew a Family and right away we began hitting it off famously.</p> - -<p>The Moranites figured we would kill each other off all except maybe -one, whom they could handle themselves. They still had folk legends -about the previous visit of Earthmen and they didn't trust us.</p> - -<p>Charlie Baxter's original mistake had supplied us with the Rosetta -Stone we needed.</p> - -<p>Doctor Selby told me Charlie could get up finally, so I went to his -suite and shook hands with him as he still lay in bed.</p> - -<p>I waited for the big moment when Charlie would be on his feet again -and we could get on with the re-survey of the planet.</p> - -<p>"Here goes," Charlie said and threw back his sheet.</p> - -<p>He swung his legs around and tottered to his feet. He was a little -weak, but he took a few steps and seemed to make it okay.</p> - -<p>Then the inevitable happened. He snagged the edge of one of the Persian -carpets on the bedroom floor with his big toe and started to fall.</p> - -<p>Selby and I both dived forward to catch him, but instead of doing the -arm-waving dance for balance that we were both used to, he seemed to go -limp and he plopped on the floor like a wet fish.</p> - -<p>Immediately he jumped to his feet, grinning. "I finally learned to go -limp when I take a fall, sir. It took a lot of practice. I imagine I'll -save some broken bones that way."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said uneasily. "You have been thinking about this quite a lot -while you lay there, haven't you, Baxter?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. I see I've been fighting this thing too hard. I am an -Accident Prone and I might as well accept it. Why not? I seem to always -muddle through some way, like out there in the jungle, so why should I -worry or feel <i>embarrassed</i>? <i>I know I can't change</i> it."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I was beginning to do some worrying of my own. Things weren't working -out the way they should. We were supposed to see that Prones kept -developing a certain amount of doomed self-confidence, but they -couldn't be allowed to believe they were infallible Prones. A Prone's -value lies in his active and constructive effort to do the right thing. -If he merely accepts being a Prone, his accidents gain us nothing. We -can't profit from mistakes that come about from resignation or laughing -off blunders or, as in this case, conviction that he never got himself -into anything he couldn't get himself out of.</p> - -<p>"Doctor Selby, would you excuse us?" I asked.</p> - -<p>The medic left with a bow and a surly expression. I turned to Baxter, -rather wishing Selby could have stayed. It was a labor dispute and I -was used to having a mediator present at bargaining sessions at my -glassworks. But this was a military, not a civilian, spaceship.</p> - -<p>"I have some facts of life to give you, Baxter," I told him. "It -is your duty to <i>actively</i> fulfill your position. You have to make -decisions and plan courses of action. Do you figure on just walking -around in that jungle until a tree falls on you?"</p> - -<p>He sat down on the edge of the bed and examined the pattern in the -carpet. "Not exactly, sir. But I get tired of people waiting for me to -make a fool out of myself. I have a natural talent for—for <i>Creative -Negativism</i>. That's it. And I should be able to exercise my talent with -<i>dignity</i>."</p> - -<p>"If you don't actively fulfill the obligations of a Prone, you aren't -allowed the luxuries and privileges that go with the position. Do you -think you would like to be without your armed guards to protect you -every moment?"</p> - -<p>"I can take care of myself, sir!"</p> - -<p>I paused and came up with my best argument. "How would you like to -live like an ordinary spaceman, without rare steaks and clean sheets? -Because if you're not our Accident Prone, you're just another crew -member, you know."</p> - -<p>That one hurt him, but I saw I had put it to him as a challenge and -he must have had some guilt feelings about accepting all that luxury -for being nothing more than he was. "I could fulfill the duties of an -ordinary spaceman, sir."</p> - -<p>I snorted. "It takes skill and training, Baxter. Your papers entitle -you to one position and one only anywhere—Accident Prone of a -spaceship complement. If you refuse to do your duties in that post, you -can only become a ward of the Galaxy."</p> - -<p>His jaw line firmed. He had gone through a lot to keep from taking such -abject charity. "Isn't there," he asked in a milder tone, "<i>any</i> other -position I could serve in on this ship, sir?"</p> - -<p>I studied his face a moment. "We had to blast off without an Assistant -Pile Driver, j.g. It keeps getting harder and harder to recruit an APD, -j.g. I suppose it's those reports about the eventual fatalities due to -radiation leak back there where they are stationed."</p> - -<p>Baxter looked back at me steadily. "There are a lot of rumors about the -high mortality rate among Accident Prones in space, too."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was right. We had started the rumors. We wanted the Prones alert, -active and scheming to stay alive. More beneficial accidents that way. -Actually, most Prones died of old age in space, which is more than -could be said of them on Earth, where they didn't have the kind of -protection the Service gives them.</p> - -<p>"Look here, Baxter, do you like your quarters on this ship?" I demanded.</p> - -<p>"You mean this master bedroom, the private heated swimming pool, the -tennis court, bowling alley and all? Yes, sir, I like it."</p> - -<p>"The Assistant Pile Driver has a cot near the fuel tanks."</p> - -<p>He gazed off over my left shoulder. "I had a bed behind the furnace -back on Earth before the building I was working in burned down."</p> - -<p>"You wouldn't like this one any better than the one before."</p> - -<p>"But there I would have some chance of <i>advancement</i>. I don't want to -be stuck in the rank of Accident Prone for life."</p> - -<p>I stared at him in frank amazement. "Baxter, the only rank getting -higher pay or more privileges than Prone is Grand Admiral of the -Services, a position it would take you at least fifty years to reach if -you had the luck and brains to make it, which you haven't."</p> - -<p>"I had something more modest in mind, sir. Like being a captain."</p> - -<p>He surely must have known how I lived in comparison to him, so I didn't -bother to remind him. I said, "Have you ever seen a case of radiation -poisoning?"</p> - -<p>Baxter's jaw thrust forward. "It must be pretty bad—but it isn't as -violent as being eaten by floating fungi or being swallowed in an -earthquake on some airless satellite."</p> - -<p>"No," I agreed, "it is much slower than any of those. It is unfortunate -that we don't carry the necessary supplies to take care of Pile -Drivers. Most of our medical supplies are in the Accident Prone First -Aid Kit, for the exclusive use of the Prone. Have you ever taken a good -look at that?"</p> - -<p>Baxter shivered. "Yes, I've seen it. Several drums of blood, Type AB, -my type. A half-dozen fresh-frozen assorted arms and legs, several rows -of eyes, a hundred square feet of graftable skin, and a well-stocked -tank of inner organs and a double-doored bank of nerve lengths. -Impressive."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="600" height="178" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>I smiled. "Sort of gives you a feeling of confidence and security, -doesn't it? It would be unfortunate for anyone who had a great many -accidents to be denied the supplies in that Kit, I should think. Of -course, it is available only to those filling the position of Accident -Prone and doing the work faithfully and according to orders."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," Charlie mumbled.</p> - -<p>"Selby is your personal physician, you realize," I drove on. "He takes -care of the rest of us only if he has time left over from you. Why, -when I was having my two weeks in the summer as an Ensign, I had to -lie for half an hour with a crushed foot while the doctor sprayed our -Prone's throat to guard against infection. Let me tell you, I was in -quite a bit of pain."</p> - -<p>Charlie's pale eyes narrowed as if he had just made a sudden discovery, -perhaps about the relationship between us. "You don't make as much -money as I do, do you, sir? You don't have a valet? And your bed folds -into the bulkhead?"</p> - -<p>I thought he was at last beginning to get it. "Yes," I said.</p> - -<p>He stood sharply to attention. "Request transfer to position of -Assistant Pile Driver, j.g., sir."</p> - -<p>I barely halted a groan. He thought I resented him and was deliberately -holding him down into the miserable overpaid, overfed job that was -beneath him and the talents that so fitted him for the job.</p> - -<p>"Request granted."</p> - -<p>He would learn.</p> - -<p>He had better.</p> - -<p>I started to sweat in a gush. He had <i>really</i> better.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I took him into the rear of the ship and showed him where he would -sleep. In the oily gloom, he regarded the pad from an old acceleration -couch fitted to two scratched and nicked aluminum pipes jury-rigged -between two squat tanks containing water for the atomic pile used close -to planets where the gravitational field interfered with the star-drive.</p> - -<p>"Over here's what you have to keep an eye on, Baxter," I told him.</p> - -<p>We walked past the dimly lighted rows of towering fuel lines and -cables. Charlie tripped over the hump of a deck-level cable housing. -His knee banged against the deck plates and he stood with an effort.</p> - -<p>"Careful," I said. "Now that you have limited medical attention, don't -break a leg."</p> - -<p>Baxter rubbed his leg thoughtfully. "Funny. My grandfather used to be -in show business. He told me that telling somebody to break a leg was -wishing them good luck."</p> - -<p>I cleared my throat. "It would seem in dubious taste, addressed to an -accident prone. However, you have my best wishes. You realize that your -salary as Prone of 11,000 credits a month and your pay of 23 credits a -month as an APD, j.g., are suspended until the Admiralty rules on your -case."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. I realize that, sir."</p> - -<p>I stopped him in front of the soiled red box that was the tension -gauge. "If the electrical control of the drive somehow becomes broken, -the interrupted circuit will show on the gauge. It is then the duty -of the APD, j.g., to go through the small airlock and maintain manual -control of the pile while at least one of the control circuits is -repaired. The job rarely has to be done, but when it is, it is very -often fatal."</p> - -<p>Baxter only nodded. "I understand."</p> - -<p>I doubted that he did.</p> - -<p>After leaving Baxter on his first watch, I went to the messhall and -waited for him to show up. The men knew what to do when he came.</p> - -<p>It was rather pleasant to sit there savoring the odors. At times, they -still seem more like those of a chemical laboratory than a kitchen, -but I have become so used to associating burning starch products, -centrifuged tannic acid, and melting dextrose with food that I am -almost immune to the aroma of Prone food like juicy, sizzling steak. -Almost.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Charlie Baxter finally came through the hatch. He paused and seemed to -shake off what he must have thought was some olfactory hallucination -and started to sit down at the table with the rest of the men. He -looked rather pleased. He had probably decided being Accident Prone had -deprived him of much of the company he had every right to enjoy with -his shipmates.</p> - -<p>"Get out of here!" Frank Peirmonte yelled, jumping up from the other -end of the oblong table.</p> - -<p>"Why?" Baxter asked in astonishment.</p> - -<p>"Baxter," I put in, "I'm afraid the men think they may catch radiation -fever from a pile driver like you."</p> - -<p>"Catch radiation fever?" he repeated. "Men have been exposed to -atomics for hundreds of years. Surely you men must know any poisoning -in one individual can't be transmitted to another like germs. I -couldn't absorb enough radiation to be dangerous to you in simple -proximity and still be alive. Don't you see that?"</p> - -<p>At once, all of my crew at the table covered their faces with their -arms.</p> - -<p>"Don't look at us!" Bronoski screamed, his voice knifing toward the -higher octaves.</p> - -<p>Baxter gaped in a daze from one of us to the other. "What do you mean? -Why shouldn't I look at you?"</p> - -<p>"You've got The Eye! <i>All</i> pile drivers get it."</p> - -<p>"But I have to eat," he objected. "I'm hungry. Really I am."</p> - -<p>I swung around and exchanged a few words with Tan Eck, the cook, at the -rear hatch. I took a steaming tray and went across the compartment, -averting my face.</p> - -<p>"You will have to forgive these superstitious spacemen," I apologized -to Baxter. "You go right ahead and eat just outside the door. I won't -mind a bit."</p> - -<p>"Thanks," Baxter said, accepting the plate. He looked down at the white -paste, black gum and cup of yellowish liquid fitted in the proper holes -and slots, then up at me. "What is this stuff?"</p> - -<p>"You don't have to look right at me!" I snapped. "It is standard -spaceman's fare—re-reconstituted carbohydrates, protein and hot ground -roasted soya. This is stuff we had left over on our plates from lunch, -all set to go into the converter, but Tan Eck reprocessed it for you. -It's what regulations specify for an APD, j.g."</p> - -<p>Baxter opened his mouth and closed it hard. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."</p> - -<p>He turned smartly to leave and I halted him with a palm up. "Baxter."</p> - -<p>He turned. "Yes, sir?"</p> - -<p>"We are moving to the other side of the continent to continue with -the re-survey. I want to make it clear to you that you are absolutely -forbidden to leave the ship. We can't spare the guards for your -liabilities, now that you have thrown away your value."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>Even at the time, I was gratified by the sudden thoughtful narrowing of -his eyes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I wasn't surprised the next day when Bronoski reported that Charlie -Baxter had taken a bacpac—food, soap, blankets and so forth—and -left the <i>Hilliard</i>. He was determined to prove that he wasn't merely -Accident Prone and could get things done on his own.</p> - -<p>"Charterson and Von Elderman are following him?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Bronoski nodded his bullet-shaped head. "Like a hawk."</p> - -<p>"The Bird can follow him like a hawk. I want them to follow him like -men."</p> - -<p>"They are as good at the job as I am," Bronoski reassured me.</p> - -<p>"I think," I said quickly, "that I had better go down to Communications -and follow Baxter myself."</p> - -<p>The Bird was an electronic device. It looked like a local life-form -that was actually a flying mammal. Inside the thing was was a sensitive -video camera and a self-propulsion unit.</p> - -<p>The Bird homed in on Baxter's electroencephalograph waves.</p> - -<p>The view on the screen in front of the lounging chairs was clear but -monotonous.</p> - -<p>Charlie made his way across the landscape, woods on this side of the -continent, not jungle, without incident. He did fall down like a wet -laundry bag every so often, but that, as you'd figure, amounted to -traveling across country without incident. He'd have done the same on a -smooth pavement.</p> - -<p>I had a cigarette in my mouth, futilely pounding my pockets for the -lighter I didn't have, when Charlie met the alien.</p> - -<p>There was only one native this time, the same thin form, but more -lightly clothed here. I shifted uneasily and hoped the two guards were -close. There was only one this time, but it was useless to suppose -Charlie could handle him himself.</p> - -<p>"Greetings," Charlie said. "I am Big Brother of a new Family."</p> - -<p>There was no sound equipment in the Bird, but the translator circuits -in the control board read Baxter's lips and produced their sound -patterns for us. They would also translate the native's language, but -just then he wasn't saying anything.</p> - -<p>He walked around the Prone leisurely, as if considering buying him.</p> - -<p>Charlie shifted the straps of his pack. He hadn't been convinced of his -own abilities enough to take along a gun or any other kind of weapon. -He would be almost sure to kill himself with it.</p> - -<p>Or would he?</p> - -<p>I suddenly wondered if Charlie doubted himself enough to commit -outright suicide. He had had plenty of close calls, yet he had always -survived. If his goal was self-destruction, he surely would have -reached it after this many opportunities.</p> - -<p>I watched the screen intently.</p> - -<p>Charlie thought he was alone there with a possibly hostile native. -All he had to do was make one small slip and he would be dead. Yet, -so far, he had followed the pattern we had used at the other colony -exactly.</p> - -<p>Instantly I realized that it <i>must</i> be a mistake to follow the other -pattern with this second group of aliens, if Charlie Baxter did it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At first I couldn't understand why the pattern should be wrong for this -group if it was right for the first. They were close enough so that -there must have been intercourse between them, and if customs were -violently different, there would probably be a state of warfare between -them and none was apparent.</p> - -<p>I finally realized why warfare would be almost impossible and why the -customs of the separated colonies might be extremely at odds.</p> - -<p>The colonies were three months apart by fastest transportation, which -was longer than a generation of the natives. No one could live long -enough to reach a second colony, so each culture developed in isolation -along entirely random lines.</p> - -<p>I felt like yelling at Charlie. There was literally no way of telling -how he might be offending and antagonizing this Moranite by treating -him as we had learned to treat the others.</p> - -<p>The alien finally spoke. "You are part of a—Family?"</p> - -<p>Charlie nodded his head.</p> - -<p>So did the native—he bobbed Charlie's head with a rock.</p> - -<p>"Close in on 'em fast but gentle," I radioed the guards.</p> - -<p>The native dragged Baxter's limp body through a nearby thicket and into -a small clearing. Abruptly I saw they were up against the base of the -nearest mountain. A bubbling, dancing stream twisted through brown and -green rock and disappeared into a ridge of gray slate. It reappeared -below the hill, steaming, obviously passing through an underground hot -springs.</p> - -<p>The alien had Charlie where he wanted him before we could move. He -lashed him securely with stringy vine and, with him thrown over his -shoulder, ran up the slate, which rumbled down ominously behind them. -He tossed Charlie over a wide hole at the top of the ridge. Slate -rained down into the hole. If the Prone hadn't snapped awake and made -his body rigid, he would have tumbled into the hole at that moment.</p> - -<p>"So you wake, Familyman," the native said. "How could you admit to -being anything so immoral when you were alone? You surely did not think -you could eat me without help from the others of your evil brothers!"</p> - -<p>Charlie licked his lips and moved his eyes; that was about all he -dared move. "You—don't approve of families?"</p> - -<p>The native drew himself up to his full elongated height in the screen. -"Like all good People, I was properly abandoned at birth and I proudly -say I have never associated with others except for Mating and Trading."</p> - -<p>I noticed abstractly that he finished moving his lips long before the -translation was finished. He was using a very primitive language. I -screwed the button nervously in my ear for Charterson and Von Elderman -to report.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The alien looked at the rigid form of Baxter over the pit. "I suppose -I should have some pity for you. You began your filthy practice too -young to know better. But imagine! Combining with others of your kind -to survive—at the expense of decent individuals like myself. Robbing -us, eating us. The Finger of Fire will come soon and will destroy you. -I have heard Familymen often try to aid one another. Perhaps others of -your kind will die with you!"</p> - -<p>He was gone long before the translation was finished, leaving Charlie -Baxter arched across a pit that widened as the alien's descent -disturbed more of the soft shale.</p> - -<p>The native was out of sight. I realized his tribe would soon be -extinct. The racial mind for the whole species seemed obsessed with -survival by natural selection, but his tribe had gone off on the -tangent of individualism, which was fine to some extent, but the -Service had learned that a race couldn't survive without <i>some</i> degree -of cooperation and this one's level of mating and trading did not seem -sufficient.</p> - -<p>"Captain Jackson!" Von Elderman's voice said in my ear. "We can't reach -him! If we start up that hill, the soft shale is bound to shift and -drop him right into that hole."</p> - -<p>"I'll send Bronoski with a personal flyer immediately to make an air -pickup," I said numbly.</p> - -<p>It wasn't the guards' fault. Charlie hadn't seemed to be in any -immediate danger and we don't kill intelligent life-forms without -damned good reason—the kind of reason that stands up in court. But -he was now stretched over what I was fairly certain was an active -geyser—"The Finger of Fire," the native had called it, and had assured -Charlie that it would kill him.</p> - -<p>I dispatched Bronoski, but that was all I could do. I did not know when -the geyser would spout. Maybe Bronoski would make it. Maybe he wouldn't.</p> - -<p>I magnified the view from the useless little Bird and studied -Charlie's face in the screen. If he lay there doing nothing, waiting -for a miracle to happen, he was—I shuddered—cooked. He had to make an -active decision.</p> - -<p>If he didn't, he was almost sure to die.</p> - -<p>But maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe accident prones really want to -destroy themselves.</p> - -<p>It was his bid.</p> - -<p>Slate dropped off the rim of the hole into the pit and Charlie -stiffened. More passive acceptance. But maybe I wasn't being fair. -There wasn't much Charlie could do. There wasn't much else for him to -do except give up.</p> - -<p>But I noticed his eyes moving. They went up to the bubbling ribbon of -water and down to the steaming stream below the ridge where it emerged. -Charlie smiled. He had made a decision.</p> - -<p>He folded his knees and dropped into the hole.</p> - -<p>He had naturally made the wrong decision. Bronoski in the flying -platform swung into position above the pit.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Charlie must have figured that he would be washed on through the hot -springs and out into the shallow water below. He would be, but he would -be boiled alive.</p> - -<p>Only there are mistakes and mistakes, and sometimes mistakes aren't -mistakes at all.</p> - -<p>The geyser exploded, higher, faster and harder than it ever had before. -And Charlie, half-drowned and half-or-more scalded, popped up and -landed in the brush twenty feet away.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="403" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Bronoski fought for control of his flyer and finally made a fast pickup.</p> - -<p>Doc Selby did a pretty good job with the First Aid Kit. Charlie's neck -and collarbone were broken and over fifty per cent of his skin had to -be replaced. Still, it was lucky Charlie had that concentrated soap in -his pack. Ever been to Earth National Park and seen Old Faithful? You -know what happened—they use soap to get the geyser spouting when it's -off schedule.</p> - -<p>We haven't told Charlie that it was anything but an accident that -Bronoski was so handy. And we let him tell us about the changed customs -of the natives. He resumed his regular position of Accident Prone when -he saw realistically that he would inevitably be doing the same work -and that he might as well get paid for it.</p> - -<p>I often wonder if it was a genuine mistake the way he dropped into the -geyser. Certainly he would have died if it hadn't been for the soap -concentrates. If he took that into consideration, though, it wasn't a -mistake at all, but a wise choice.</p> - -<p>A few days ago, when he was leaving my office—that is, the bridge—I -saw Charlie slip and start to fall. He didn't give up and go limp. He -gave his old dance of struggling to regain his balance. <i>Only this time -he made it!</i></p> - -<p>I began sweating again.</p> - -<p>After all the time, effort and money the Service puts into acquiring -and training a Prone, I wonder if it is possible for one to beat his -problem and cease to be an Accident Prone or even an accident prone.</p> - -<p>This afternoon, I passed Charlie Baxter's swimming pool and saw him -poised on his diving board. I waved and rather jauntily extended his -grandfather's wish for good luck: "Break a leg."</p> - -<p>Charlie grinned back at me. "Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>But he didn't.</p> - -<p>It would be very reassuring if he would.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Break a Leg, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAK A LEG *** - -***** This file should be named 51320-h.htm or 51320-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/2/51320/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Break a Leg - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: February 28, 2016 [EBook #51320] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAK A LEG *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - BREAK A LEG - - By JIM HARMON - - Illustrated by GAUGHAN - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction November 1957. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - The man worth while couldn't be allowed - to smile ... if he ever laughed at himself, - the entire ship and crew were as good as dead! - - -If there is anything I am afraid of, and there probably is, it is -having a rookie Accident Prone, half-starved from the unemployment -lines, aboard my spaceship. They are always so anxious to please. They -remember what it is like to live in a rathole behind an apartment -house furnace eating day-old bread and wilted vegetables, which doesn't -compare favorably to the Admiralty-style staterooms and steak and -caviar they draw down in the Exploration Service. - -You may wonder why anybody should make things so pleasant for a grownup -who can't walk a city block without tripping over his own feet and who -has a very low life expectancy on Earth due to the automobiles they are -constantly stepping in front of and the live wires they are fond of -picking up so the street won't be littered. - -The Admiralty, however, is a very thorough group of men. Before they -open a planet to colonization or even fraternization, they insist on -knowing just what they are up against. - -Accident Prones can find out what is wrong with a planet as easily -as falling off a log, which they will if there is one lonely tree on -the whole world. A single pit of quicksand on a veritable Eden of a -planet and a Prone will be knee-deep in it within an hour of blastdown. -If an alien race will smile patronizingly on your heroic attempts at -genocide, but be offended into a murderous religious frenzy if you blow -your nose, you can take the long end of the odds that the Prone will -almost immediately catch a cold. - -All of this is properly recorded for the next expedition in the -Admiralty files, and if it's any consolation, high officials and screen -stars often visit you in the hospital. - - * * * * * - -Charlie Baxter was like all of the other Prones, only worse. Moran III -was sort of an unofficial test for him and he wanted to make good. We -had blasted down in the black of night and were waiting for daylight to -begin our re-survey of the planet. It was Charlie's first assignment, -so we had an easy one--just seeing if anything new had developed in the -last fifty years. - -Baxter's guard was doubled as soon as we set down, of course, and -that made him fidgety. He had heard all the stories about how high -the casualty rate was with Prones aboard spaceships and now he was -beginning to get nervous. - -Actually Charlie was safer in space than he would be back on Earth -with all those cars and people. We could have told him how the Service -practically never lost a Prone--they were too valuable and rare to -lose--but we did not want him to stop worrying. The precautions we -took to safeguard him, the armed men who went with him everywhere, the -Accident Prone First Aid Kit with spare parts for him, blood, eyes, -bone, nerves, arms, legs, and so forth, only emphasized to him the -danger, not the rigidly secured safety. - -We like it that way. - -No one knows what causes an accident prone. The big insurance -companies on Earth discovered them when they found out in the last part -of the nineteenth century that ninety per cent of the accidents were -happening to a few per cent of the people. They soon found out that -these people were not malingering or trying to defraud anybody; they -simply had accidents. - -I suppose everything from psychology to extra-sensory perception has -been used to explain or explain away prones. I have my own ideas. I -think an accident prone is simply a super-genius with a super-doubt of -himself. - -I believe accident prones have a better system of calculation than a -cybernetic machine. They can take _everything_ into consideration--the -humidity, their blood sugar, the expression on the other guy's -face--and somewhere in the corners and attic of their brain they -_infallibly_ make the _right_ choice in any given situation. Then, -because they are incapable of trusting themselves, they do exactly the -opposite. - -I felt a little sorry for Charlie Baxter, but I was Captain of the -_Hilliard_ and my job was to keep him worried and trying. The worst -thing that can happen is for a Prone to give up and let himself sink -into the fate of being a Prone. He will wear the rut right down into a -tomb. - -Accident Prones have to stay worried and thinking, trying to break -out of the jinx that traps them. Usually they come to discover this -themselves, but by then, if they are real professionals with a career -in the Service, they have framed the right attitude and they keep it. - - * * * * * - -Baxter was a novice and very much of an amateur at the game. He didn't -like the scoring system, but he was attached to the equipment and -didn't want to lose it. - -His clumsiness back on Earth had cost him every decent job he ever had. -He had come all the way down the line until he was rated eligible only -for the position of Prone aboard a spaceship. He had been poor--hungry, -cold, wet, poor--and now he had luxury of a kind almost no one had in -our era. He was drunk with it, passionately in love with it. It would -cease to be quite so important after a few years of regular food, clean -clothes and a solid roof to keep out the rain. But right now I knew he -would come precariously close to killing to keep it. Or to being killed. - -He was ready to work. - -I knocked politely on his hatch and straightened my tunic. I have -always admired the men who can look starched in a uniform. Mine always -seemed to wrinkle as soon as I put them around my raw-boned frame. -Sometimes it is hard for me to keep a military appearance or manner. I -got my commission during the Crisis ten years back, because of my work -in the reserve unit that I created out of my employees in the glass -works (glassware blown to order for laboratories). - -Someone said something through the door and I went inside. - -Bronoski looked at me over the top of his picture tape from where he -lay on the sofa. No one else was in the compartment. - -"Where is Baxter?" I asked the hulking guard. My eyes were on the sofa. -My own bed pulled out of the wall and was considerably inferior to -this, much less Baxter's bed in the next cabin. But then I am only a -captain. - -Bronoski swung his feet off the couch and stood more or less in what I -might have taken for attention if I hadn't known him better. "Sidney -and Elliot escorted him down to the men's room, Captain Jackson." - -"You mean," I said very quietly, "that he isn't in his own bath?" - -"No sir," Bronoski said wearily. "He told us it was out of order." - -I stifled the gurgle of rage that came into my throat and motioned -Bronoski to follow me. The engines on the _Hilliard_ were more likely -to be out of order than the plumbing in the Accident Prone's suite. No -effort was spared to insure comfort for the key man in the whole crew. - -One glance inside the compartment at the end of the corridor satisfied -me. There wasn't a thing wrong with the plumbing, so Baxter must have -had something in mind. - -On a hunch of my own, I checked the supply lockers next to the airlock -while Bronoski fired questions at my back. Three translator collars -were missing. Baxter had left the spaceship and gone off into an alien -night. - -Elliot and Sidney, the guards, were absolutely prohibited from -interfering in any way with a Prone's decisions. They merely had to -follow him and give their lives to save his, if necessary. - -I grabbed up a translator collar and tossed one to Bronoski. Then, just -as we were getting into the airlock, I remembered something and ran -back to the bridge. - -The thick brown envelope I had left on my desk was gone. I had shown -it to Baxter and informed him that he should study it when he felt so -inclined. He had seemed bored with the idea then, but he had come back -for the report before leaving the ship. The envelope contained the -exploration survey on Moran III made some fifty years before. - -I unlocked a desk drawer with my thumb print and drew out a duplicate -of the report. I didn't have too much confidence in it and I hoped -Charlie Baxter had less. Lots of things can change on a planet in fifty -years, including its inhabitants. - - * * * * * - -Bronoski picked up Baxter's tracks and those of the two guards, Elliot -and Sidney, with ultra-violet light. They were cold splotches of green -fire against the rotting black peat of the jungle path. The whole dark, -tangled mess smelled of sour mash, an intoxicating bourbon-type aroma. - -I jogged along following the big man more by instinct than anything -else, ruining my eyes in an effort to refresh my memory as to the -contents of the survey report in the cheery little glow from my -cigarette lighter. - -The lighter was beginning to feel hot to my fingers and I started to -worry about radiation leak, although they are supposed to be guaranteed -perfectly shielded. I read that before the last exploration party had -left, they had made the Moranite natives blood brothers. Then Bronoski -knocked me down. - -Actually he put his hands in the small of my back and shoved politely -but firmly. Just the same, I went face down into the moist dirt fast -enough. - -I raised my head cautiously to see if Bronoski would shove it back -down. He didn't. - -I could see through the stringy, alcoholic grass fairly well and there -were Baxter, Elliot and Sidney in the middle of a curious mob of aliens. - -Charlie Baxter had got pretty thin on his starvation diet back on -Earth. He had grown a slight pot belly on the good food he drew down as -Prone, but he was a fairly nice-looking young fellow. He looked even -better in the pale moonlight, mixed amber and chartreuse from the twin -satellites, and in contrast to the rest of the group. - -Elliot Charterson and Sidney Von Elderman were more or less type-cast -as brawny, brainless bodyguards. Their friends described them as -muscle-bound apes, but other people sometimes got insulting. - -The natives were less formidable. They made the slight lump of fat -Charlie had at his waist look positively indecent. - -The natives were _skinny_. How skinny? Well, the only curves they had -in their bodies were their bulging eyeballs. But just because they were -thin didn't mean they were pushovers. Whips and garrotes aren't fat and -these looked just as dangerous. - -Whenever I see aliens who are so humanoid, I remember all that Sunday -supplement stuff about the Galaxy being colonized sometime by one -humanlike race and the Ten Lost Tribes and so forth. - -They didn't give me much time to think about it just then. The natives -looked unhappy--belligerently unhappy. - -I began to shake and at the same time to assure myself that I didn't -have anything to worry about, that the precious Accident Prone would -come out of it alive. After all, Elliot and Sidney were there to -protect him. They had machine guns, flame-throwers, atomic grenades, -and some really potent weapons. They could handle the situation. I -didn't have a thing to worry about. - -So why couldn't I stop shaking? - -Maybe it was the way the natives were slowly but deliberately forming a -circle about Charlie and his bodyguards. - - * * * * * - -The clothing of the Moranites hadn't changed much, I noticed. That was -understandable. They had a non-mechanical civilization with scattered -colonies that it would take a terrestrial season to tour by animal cart. - -An isolated culture like that couldn't change many of its customs. -Then Charlie shouldn't have any trouble if he stuck to the findings on -behavior in the report. Naturally, that meant by now he had discovered -the fatal error. - -The three men were just standing still, waiting for the aliens to make -the first move. The natives looked just as worried as Charlie and his -guards, but then that might have been their natural expression. - -I jumped a little when the natives all began to talk at once. The -mixture of sound was fed to me through my translator collar while the -cybernetic unit back on board the spaceship tried decoding the words. -It was too much of an overload and, infuriatingly, the sound was cut -out altogether. I started to rip my collar off when the natives stopped -screeching and a spokesman stepped forward. - -The native slumped a little more than the others, as if he were more -relaxed, and his eyes didn't goggle so much. He said, "We do not -understand," and the translation came through fine. - -Baxter swallowed and started forward to meet the alien halfway. His -boot slipped on the wet scrub grass and I saw him do the desperate -little dance to regain his balance that I had seen him make so many -times; he could never stay on his feet. - -Before he could perform his usual pratfall, Sidney and Elliot were -at his sides, supporting him by his thin biceps. He glared at them -and shrugged them off, informing them wordlessly that he would have -regained his balance if they had given him half a chance. - -"We do not understand," the native repeated. "Do you hold us in so much -contempt as to claim _all_ of us as your brothers?" - -"All beings are brothers," Charlie said. "We were made blood brothers -by your people and my people several hundred of your years ago." - -Charlie's words were being translated into the native language, of -course, but Bronoski's collars and mine switched them back into -Terrestrial. I've read stories where explorers wearing translators -couldn't understand each other, but that isn't the way it works. If you -listen closely, you make out the words in your own language underneath, -and if you pay very close attention, you can find minor semantic -differences in the original words and the echo translated back from a -native language. - -I was trying to catch both versions from Charlie. I knew he was making -a mistake and later I wanted to be sure I knew just what it was. -Frankly, I would have used the blood-brother gambit myself. I had also -read about it in the survey report, as I made a point of telling you. -This just proves that Accident Prones haven't secured the franchise on -mistakes. The difference is that I would have gone about it a lot more -cautiously. - -"Enough of this," the native said sharply. "Do you claim to be _my_ -brother?" - -"Sure," Charlie said. - -Dispassionately but automatically, the alien launched himself at the -Prone's throat. - - * * * * * - -Charterson and Von Elderman instantly went into action. Elliot -Charterson jumped to Charlie's assistance while Sidney Von Elderman -swung around to protect Charlie from the rest of the crowd. - -But the defense didn't work. - -The other aliens didn't try to get to Baxter, but when they saw Elliot -start to interfere with the two writhing opponents, they clawed him -down into the grass. Sidney had been set to defend the Prone, not his -fellow guard. They might have been all right if he had pulled a few -off Elliot and let him get to work, except his training told him that -the life of a guard did not matter a twit, but that a Prone must be -defended. He started toward Charlie Baxter and was immediately pulled -down by a spare dozen of the mob. - -It all meant one thing to me. The reaction of the crowd had been -spontaneous, not planned. That meant that the struggle between Charlie -and the spokesman was a high order of single combat with which it was -unholy, indecent and dastardly to interfere. - -I could fairly hear Bronoski's steel muscles preparing for battle as -he saw his two mammoth pals go down under the press of numbers. A -bristle-covered bullet of skull rose out of the grass beside me and it -was my turn to grind his face in the muck. - -I had a nice little problem to contend with. - -I knew the reason Baxter had slipped out at night to be the first to -greet the aliens. He was determined to be useful and necessary without -fouling things up. I suppose Charlie had never felt valuable to anyone -before in his life, but at the same time it hurt him to think that he -was valuable only because he was a misfit. - -He had decided to take a positive approach. If he did things right, -that would be as good proof of conditions as if he made the mistakes he -was supposed to do. But he couldn't lick that doubt of himself that had -been ground into him since birth and there he was, in trouble as always. - -Now maybe Bronoski and I could get him out ourselves by a direct -approach, but Charlie would probably lose all self-confidence and sink -down into accepting himself as an Accident Prone, a purely passive -state. - -We couldn't have that. We had to have Charlie acting and thinking and -therefore making mistakes whose bad examples we could profit by. - -As I lay on my belly thinking, Charlie was putting up a pretty good -fight with the stringy native. He got in a few good punches, which -seemed to mystify the native, who apparently knew nothing of boxing. -Naturally Charlie then began wrestling a trained and deadly wrestler -instead of continuing to box him. - -I grabbed Bronoski by his puffy ear and hissed some commands into -it. He fumbled out a book of matches and lit one for me. By the tiny -flicker of light, I began tearing apart my lighter. - - * * * * * - -I suppose you have played "tickling the dragon's tail" when you were a -kid. I did. I guess all kids have. You know, worrying around two lumps -of fissionable material and just keeping them from uniting and making -a critical mass that will result in an explosion or lethal radiation. -I caught my oldest boy doing it one day back on Earth and gave him a -good tanning for it. Actually I thought it showed he had a lot of grit. -Every real boy likes to tickle the dragon's tail. - -Maybe I was a little old for it, but that's what I was doing there in -the Moran III jungle. - -I got the shield off my cigarette lighter and jerked out the dinky -little damper rods for the pile and started easing the two little -bricks toward each other with the point of my lead pencil. - -I heard something that resembled a death rattle come from Charlie's -throat as the fingers of the alien closed down on it and my hand -twitched. A blooming light stabbed at my eyes and I flicked the lighter -away from me. - -The explosion was a dud. - -It lit up the jungle for a radius of half a mile like a giant -flashbulb, but it exploded only about ten times as loud as a pistol -shot. The mass hadn't been slapped together hard enough or held long -enough to do any real damage. - -The natives weren't fools, though. They got out of there fast. I wished -I could have gone with them. There was undoubtedly an unhealthy amount -of radiation hanging around. - -"Now!" I told Bronoski. - -He ran into the clearing and found four bodies sprawled out: Charlie -Baxter, his two guards and the native spokesman. - -Charlie and the native were both technically unconscious, but they each -had a stranglehold on each other, with Charlie getting the worst of it. - -Bronoski pried the two of them apart. - -While he roused Sidney and Elliot from their punch-drunk state, I -examined Charlie. He had a nasty burn on his leg and two toes were -gone. If there was an explosion anywhere around, he was bound to be in -front of it. - -He was abruptly choking and blinking watery eyes. - -"You did it, Charlie," I lied. "You beat him fair and square." - - * * * * * - -Charlie was in bed for the next few days while his grafted toes grew -on, but he didn't seem to mind. - -We knew enough not to use the blood-brothers approach after fifty years -and therefore it did not take us long to find out why we shouldn't. - -The Moran III culture was isolated in small colonies, but we had -forgotten that a generation of the intelligent life-forms was only -three Earth months. It seems a waste at first thought, but all things -are relative. The Crystopeds of New Lichtenstein, for instance, have a -life span of twenty thousand Terrestrial years. - -With so fast a turnover in Moran III individuals, there was bound to be -a lot of variables introduced, resulting in change. - -The idea that seemed to be in favor was the survival of the fittest. -Since the natives were born in litters, with single births extremely -rare, this concept was practiced from the first. Unless they were -particularly cunning, the runts of the litter did not survive the first -year and rarely more than one sibling ever saw adulthood. - -Obviously, to claim to be a native's brother was to challenge him to a -test of survival. - -My men learned to call themselves Last Brother in the usual bragging -preliminaries that preceded every encounter. We got pretty good results -with that approach and learned a lot about the changes in customs in -the half century. But finally one of the men--either Frank Peirmonte or -Sidney Charterson, who both claim to be the one--thought of calling the -crew a Family and right away we began hitting it off famously. - -The Moranites figured we would kill each other off all except maybe -one, whom they could handle themselves. They still had folk legends -about the previous visit of Earthmen and they didn't trust us. - -Charlie Baxter's original mistake had supplied us with the Rosetta -Stone we needed. - -Doctor Selby told me Charlie could get up finally, so I went to his -suite and shook hands with him as he still lay in bed. - -I waited for the big moment when Charlie would be on his feet again -and we could get on with the re-survey of the planet. - -"Here goes," Charlie said and threw back his sheet. - -He swung his legs around and tottered to his feet. He was a little -weak, but he took a few steps and seemed to make it okay. - -Then the inevitable happened. He snagged the edge of one of the Persian -carpets on the bedroom floor with his big toe and started to fall. - -Selby and I both dived forward to catch him, but instead of doing the -arm-waving dance for balance that we were both used to, he seemed to go -limp and he plopped on the floor like a wet fish. - -Immediately he jumped to his feet, grinning. "I finally learned to go -limp when I take a fall, sir. It took a lot of practice. I imagine I'll -save some broken bones that way." - -"Yes," I said uneasily. "You have been thinking about this quite a lot -while you lay there, haven't you, Baxter?" - -"Yes, sir. I see I've been fighting this thing too hard. I am an -Accident Prone and I might as well accept it. Why not? I seem to always -muddle through some way, like out there in the jungle, so why should I -worry or feel _embarrassed_? _I know I can't change_ it." - - * * * * * - -I was beginning to do some worrying of my own. Things weren't working -out the way they should. We were supposed to see that Prones kept -developing a certain amount of doomed self-confidence, but they -couldn't be allowed to believe they were infallible Prones. A Prone's -value lies in his active and constructive effort to do the right thing. -If he merely accepts being a Prone, his accidents gain us nothing. We -can't profit from mistakes that come about from resignation or laughing -off blunders or, as in this case, conviction that he never got himself -into anything he couldn't get himself out of. - -"Doctor Selby, would you excuse us?" I asked. - -The medic left with a bow and a surly expression. I turned to Baxter, -rather wishing Selby could have stayed. It was a labor dispute and I -was used to having a mediator present at bargaining sessions at my -glassworks. But this was a military, not a civilian, spaceship. - -"I have some facts of life to give you, Baxter," I told him. "It -is your duty to _actively_ fulfill your position. You have to make -decisions and plan courses of action. Do you figure on just walking -around in that jungle until a tree falls on you?" - -He sat down on the edge of the bed and examined the pattern in the -carpet. "Not exactly, sir. But I get tired of people waiting for me to -make a fool out of myself. I have a natural talent for--for _Creative -Negativism_. That's it. And I should be able to exercise my talent with -_dignity_." - -"If you don't actively fulfill the obligations of a Prone, you aren't -allowed the luxuries and privileges that go with the position. Do you -think you would like to be without your armed guards to protect you -every moment?" - -"I can take care of myself, sir!" - -I paused and came up with my best argument. "How would you like to -live like an ordinary spaceman, without rare steaks and clean sheets? -Because if you're not our Accident Prone, you're just another crew -member, you know." - -That one hurt him, but I saw I had put it to him as a challenge and -he must have had some guilt feelings about accepting all that luxury -for being nothing more than he was. "I could fulfill the duties of an -ordinary spaceman, sir." - -I snorted. "It takes skill and training, Baxter. Your papers entitle -you to one position and one only anywhere--Accident Prone of a -spaceship complement. If you refuse to do your duties in that post, you -can only become a ward of the Galaxy." - -His jaw line firmed. He had gone through a lot to keep from taking such -abject charity. "Isn't there," he asked in a milder tone, "_any_ other -position I could serve in on this ship, sir?" - -I studied his face a moment. "We had to blast off without an Assistant -Pile Driver, j.g. It keeps getting harder and harder to recruit an APD, -j.g. I suppose it's those reports about the eventual fatalities due to -radiation leak back there where they are stationed." - -Baxter looked back at me steadily. "There are a lot of rumors about the -high mortality rate among Accident Prones in space, too." - - * * * * * - -He was right. We had started the rumors. We wanted the Prones alert, -active and scheming to stay alive. More beneficial accidents that way. -Actually, most Prones died of old age in space, which is more than -could be said of them on Earth, where they didn't have the kind of -protection the Service gives them. - -"Look here, Baxter, do you like your quarters on this ship?" I demanded. - -"You mean this master bedroom, the private heated swimming pool, the -tennis court, bowling alley and all? Yes, sir, I like it." - -"The Assistant Pile Driver has a cot near the fuel tanks." - -He gazed off over my left shoulder. "I had a bed behind the furnace -back on Earth before the building I was working in burned down." - -"You wouldn't like this one any better than the one before." - -"But there I would have some chance of _advancement_. I don't want to -be stuck in the rank of Accident Prone for life." - -I stared at him in frank amazement. "Baxter, the only rank getting -higher pay or more privileges than Prone is Grand Admiral of the -Services, a position it would take you at least fifty years to reach if -you had the luck and brains to make it, which you haven't." - -"I had something more modest in mind, sir. Like being a captain." - -He surely must have known how I lived in comparison to him, so I didn't -bother to remind him. I said, "Have you ever seen a case of radiation -poisoning?" - -Baxter's jaw thrust forward. "It must be pretty bad--but it isn't as -violent as being eaten by floating fungi or being swallowed in an -earthquake on some airless satellite." - -"No," I agreed, "it is much slower than any of those. It is unfortunate -that we don't carry the necessary supplies to take care of Pile -Drivers. Most of our medical supplies are in the Accident Prone First -Aid Kit, for the exclusive use of the Prone. Have you ever taken a good -look at that?" - -Baxter shivered. "Yes, I've seen it. Several drums of blood, Type AB, -my type. A half-dozen fresh-frozen assorted arms and legs, several rows -of eyes, a hundred square feet of graftable skin, and a well-stocked -tank of inner organs and a double-doored bank of nerve lengths. -Impressive." - -I smiled. "Sort of gives you a feeling of confidence and security, -doesn't it? It would be unfortunate for anyone who had a great many -accidents to be denied the supplies in that Kit, I should think. Of -course, it is available only to those filling the position of Accident -Prone and doing the work faithfully and according to orders." - -"Yes, sir," Charlie mumbled. - -"Selby is your personal physician, you realize," I drove on. "He takes -care of the rest of us only if he has time left over from you. Why, -when I was having my two weeks in the summer as an Ensign, I had to -lie for half an hour with a crushed foot while the doctor sprayed our -Prone's throat to guard against infection. Let me tell you, I was in -quite a bit of pain." - -Charlie's pale eyes narrowed as if he had just made a sudden discovery, -perhaps about the relationship between us. "You don't make as much -money as I do, do you, sir? You don't have a valet? And your bed folds -into the bulkhead?" - -I thought he was at last beginning to get it. "Yes," I said. - -He stood sharply to attention. "Request transfer to position of -Assistant Pile Driver, j.g., sir." - -I barely halted a groan. He thought I resented him and was deliberately -holding him down into the miserable overpaid, overfed job that was -beneath him and the talents that so fitted him for the job. - -"Request granted." - -He would learn. - -He had better. - -I started to sweat in a gush. He had _really_ better. - - * * * * * - -I took him into the rear of the ship and showed him where he would -sleep. In the oily gloom, he regarded the pad from an old acceleration -couch fitted to two scratched and nicked aluminum pipes jury-rigged -between two squat tanks containing water for the atomic pile used close -to planets where the gravitational field interfered with the star-drive. - -"Over here's what you have to keep an eye on, Baxter," I told him. - -We walked past the dimly lighted rows of towering fuel lines and -cables. Charlie tripped over the hump of a deck-level cable housing. -His knee banged against the deck plates and he stood with an effort. - -"Careful," I said. "Now that you have limited medical attention, don't -break a leg." - -Baxter rubbed his leg thoughtfully. "Funny. My grandfather used to be -in show business. He told me that telling somebody to break a leg was -wishing them good luck." - -I cleared my throat. "It would seem in dubious taste, addressed to an -accident prone. However, you have my best wishes. You realize that your -salary as Prone of 11,000 credits a month and your pay of 23 credits a -month as an APD, j.g., are suspended until the Admiralty rules on your -case." - -"Yes, sir. I realize that, sir." - -I stopped him in front of the soiled red box that was the tension -gauge. "If the electrical control of the drive somehow becomes broken, -the interrupted circuit will show on the gauge. It is then the duty -of the APD, j.g., to go through the small airlock and maintain manual -control of the pile while at least one of the control circuits is -repaired. The job rarely has to be done, but when it is, it is very -often fatal." - -Baxter only nodded. "I understand." - -I doubted that he did. - -After leaving Baxter on his first watch, I went to the messhall and -waited for him to show up. The men knew what to do when he came. - -It was rather pleasant to sit there savoring the odors. At times, they -still seem more like those of a chemical laboratory than a kitchen, -but I have become so used to associating burning starch products, -centrifuged tannic acid, and melting dextrose with food that I am -almost immune to the aroma of Prone food like juicy, sizzling steak. -Almost. - - * * * * * - -Charlie Baxter finally came through the hatch. He paused and seemed to -shake off what he must have thought was some olfactory hallucination -and started to sit down at the table with the rest of the men. He -looked rather pleased. He had probably decided being Accident Prone had -deprived him of much of the company he had every right to enjoy with -his shipmates. - -"Get out of here!" Frank Peirmonte yelled, jumping up from the other -end of the oblong table. - -"Why?" Baxter asked in astonishment. - -"Baxter," I put in, "I'm afraid the men think they may catch radiation -fever from a pile driver like you." - -"Catch radiation fever?" he repeated. "Men have been exposed to -atomics for hundreds of years. Surely you men must know any poisoning -in one individual can't be transmitted to another like germs. I -couldn't absorb enough radiation to be dangerous to you in simple -proximity and still be alive. Don't you see that?" - -At once, all of my crew at the table covered their faces with their -arms. - -"Don't look at us!" Bronoski screamed, his voice knifing toward the -higher octaves. - -Baxter gaped in a daze from one of us to the other. "What do you mean? -Why shouldn't I look at you?" - -"You've got The Eye! _All_ pile drivers get it." - -"But I have to eat," he objected. "I'm hungry. Really I am." - -I swung around and exchanged a few words with Tan Eck, the cook, at the -rear hatch. I took a steaming tray and went across the compartment, -averting my face. - -"You will have to forgive these superstitious spacemen," I apologized -to Baxter. "You go right ahead and eat just outside the door. I won't -mind a bit." - -"Thanks," Baxter said, accepting the plate. He looked down at the white -paste, black gum and cup of yellowish liquid fitted in the proper holes -and slots, then up at me. "What is this stuff?" - -"You don't have to look right at me!" I snapped. "It is standard -spaceman's fare--re-reconstituted carbohydrates, protein and hot ground -roasted soya. This is stuff we had left over on our plates from lunch, -all set to go into the converter, but Tan Eck reprocessed it for you. -It's what regulations specify for an APD, j.g." - -Baxter opened his mouth and closed it hard. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." - -He turned smartly to leave and I halted him with a palm up. "Baxter." - -He turned. "Yes, sir?" - -"We are moving to the other side of the continent to continue with -the re-survey. I want to make it clear to you that you are absolutely -forbidden to leave the ship. We can't spare the guards for your -liabilities, now that you have thrown away your value." - -"Yes, sir." - -Even at the time, I was gratified by the sudden thoughtful narrowing of -his eyes. - - * * * * * - -I wasn't surprised the next day when Bronoski reported that Charlie -Baxter had taken a bacpac--food, soap, blankets and so forth--and -left the _Hilliard_. He was determined to prove that he wasn't merely -Accident Prone and could get things done on his own. - -"Charterson and Von Elderman are following him?" I asked. - -Bronoski nodded his bullet-shaped head. "Like a hawk." - -"The Bird can follow him like a hawk. I want them to follow him like -men." - -"They are as good at the job as I am," Bronoski reassured me. - -"I think," I said quickly, "that I had better go down to Communications -and follow Baxter myself." - -The Bird was an electronic device. It looked like a local life-form -that was actually a flying mammal. Inside the thing was was a sensitive -video camera and a self-propulsion unit. - -The Bird homed in on Baxter's electroencephalograph waves. - -The view on the screen in front of the lounging chairs was clear but -monotonous. - -Charlie made his way across the landscape, woods on this side of the -continent, not jungle, without incident. He did fall down like a wet -laundry bag every so often, but that, as you'd figure, amounted to -traveling across country without incident. He'd have done the same on a -smooth pavement. - -I had a cigarette in my mouth, futilely pounding my pockets for the -lighter I didn't have, when Charlie met the alien. - -There was only one native this time, the same thin form, but more -lightly clothed here. I shifted uneasily and hoped the two guards were -close. There was only one this time, but it was useless to suppose -Charlie could handle him himself. - -"Greetings," Charlie said. "I am Big Brother of a new Family." - -There was no sound equipment in the Bird, but the translator circuits -in the control board read Baxter's lips and produced their sound -patterns for us. They would also translate the native's language, but -just then he wasn't saying anything. - -He walked around the Prone leisurely, as if considering buying him. - -Charlie shifted the straps of his pack. He hadn't been convinced of his -own abilities enough to take along a gun or any other kind of weapon. -He would be almost sure to kill himself with it. - -Or would he? - -I suddenly wondered if Charlie doubted himself enough to commit -outright suicide. He had had plenty of close calls, yet he had always -survived. If his goal was self-destruction, he surely would have -reached it after this many opportunities. - -I watched the screen intently. - -Charlie thought he was alone there with a possibly hostile native. -All he had to do was make one small slip and he would be dead. Yet, -so far, he had followed the pattern we had used at the other colony -exactly. - -Instantly I realized that it _must_ be a mistake to follow the other -pattern with this second group of aliens, if Charlie Baxter did it. - - * * * * * - -At first I couldn't understand why the pattern should be wrong for this -group if it was right for the first. They were close enough so that -there must have been intercourse between them, and if customs were -violently different, there would probably be a state of warfare between -them and none was apparent. - -I finally realized why warfare would be almost impossible and why the -customs of the separated colonies might be extremely at odds. - -The colonies were three months apart by fastest transportation, which -was longer than a generation of the natives. No one could live long -enough to reach a second colony, so each culture developed in isolation -along entirely random lines. - -I felt like yelling at Charlie. There was literally no way of telling -how he might be offending and antagonizing this Moranite by treating -him as we had learned to treat the others. - -The alien finally spoke. "You are part of a--Family?" - -Charlie nodded his head. - -So did the native--he bobbed Charlie's head with a rock. - -"Close in on 'em fast but gentle," I radioed the guards. - -The native dragged Baxter's limp body through a nearby thicket and into -a small clearing. Abruptly I saw they were up against the base of the -nearest mountain. A bubbling, dancing stream twisted through brown and -green rock and disappeared into a ridge of gray slate. It reappeared -below the hill, steaming, obviously passing through an underground hot -springs. - -The alien had Charlie where he wanted him before we could move. He -lashed him securely with stringy vine and, with him thrown over his -shoulder, ran up the slate, which rumbled down ominously behind them. -He tossed Charlie over a wide hole at the top of the ridge. Slate -rained down into the hole. If the Prone hadn't snapped awake and made -his body rigid, he would have tumbled into the hole at that moment. - -"So you wake, Familyman," the native said. "How could you admit to -being anything so immoral when you were alone? You surely did not think -you could eat me without help from the others of your evil brothers!" - -Charlie licked his lips and moved his eyes; that was about all he -dared move. "You--don't approve of families?" - -The native drew himself up to his full elongated height in the screen. -"Like all good People, I was properly abandoned at birth and I proudly -say I have never associated with others except for Mating and Trading." - -I noticed abstractly that he finished moving his lips long before the -translation was finished. He was using a very primitive language. I -screwed the button nervously in my ear for Charterson and Von Elderman -to report. - - * * * * * - -The alien looked at the rigid form of Baxter over the pit. "I suppose -I should have some pity for you. You began your filthy practice too -young to know better. But imagine! Combining with others of your kind -to survive--at the expense of decent individuals like myself. Robbing -us, eating us. The Finger of Fire will come soon and will destroy you. -I have heard Familymen often try to aid one another. Perhaps others of -your kind will die with you!" - -He was gone long before the translation was finished, leaving Charlie -Baxter arched across a pit that widened as the alien's descent -disturbed more of the soft shale. - -The native was out of sight. I realized his tribe would soon be -extinct. The racial mind for the whole species seemed obsessed with -survival by natural selection, but his tribe had gone off on the -tangent of individualism, which was fine to some extent, but the -Service had learned that a race couldn't survive without _some_ degree -of cooperation and this one's level of mating and trading did not seem -sufficient. - -"Captain Jackson!" Von Elderman's voice said in my ear. "We can't reach -him! If we start up that hill, the soft shale is bound to shift and -drop him right into that hole." - -"I'll send Bronoski with a personal flyer immediately to make an air -pickup," I said numbly. - -It wasn't the guards' fault. Charlie hadn't seemed to be in any -immediate danger and we don't kill intelligent life-forms without -damned good reason--the kind of reason that stands up in court. But -he was now stretched over what I was fairly certain was an active -geyser--"The Finger of Fire," the native had called it, and had assured -Charlie that it would kill him. - -I dispatched Bronoski, but that was all I could do. I did not know when -the geyser would spout. Maybe Bronoski would make it. Maybe he wouldn't. - -I magnified the view from the useless little Bird and studied -Charlie's face in the screen. If he lay there doing nothing, waiting -for a miracle to happen, he was--I shuddered--cooked. He had to make an -active decision. - -If he didn't, he was almost sure to die. - -But maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe accident prones really want to -destroy themselves. - -It was his bid. - -Slate dropped off the rim of the hole into the pit and Charlie -stiffened. More passive acceptance. But maybe I wasn't being fair. -There wasn't much Charlie could do. There wasn't much else for him to -do except give up. - -But I noticed his eyes moving. They went up to the bubbling ribbon of -water and down to the steaming stream below the ridge where it emerged. -Charlie smiled. He had made a decision. - -He folded his knees and dropped into the hole. - -He had naturally made the wrong decision. Bronoski in the flying -platform swung into position above the pit. - - * * * * * - -Charlie must have figured that he would be washed on through the hot -springs and out into the shallow water below. He would be, but he would -be boiled alive. - -Only there are mistakes and mistakes, and sometimes mistakes aren't -mistakes at all. - -The geyser exploded, higher, faster and harder than it ever had before. -And Charlie, half-drowned and half-or-more scalded, popped up and -landed in the brush twenty feet away. - -Bronoski fought for control of his flyer and finally made a fast pickup. - -Doc Selby did a pretty good job with the First Aid Kit. Charlie's neck -and collarbone were broken and over fifty per cent of his skin had to -be replaced. Still, it was lucky Charlie had that concentrated soap in -his pack. Ever been to Earth National Park and seen Old Faithful? You -know what happened--they use soap to get the geyser spouting when it's -off schedule. - -We haven't told Charlie that it was anything but an accident that -Bronoski was so handy. And we let him tell us about the changed customs -of the natives. He resumed his regular position of Accident Prone when -he saw realistically that he would inevitably be doing the same work -and that he might as well get paid for it. - -I often wonder if it was a genuine mistake the way he dropped into the -geyser. Certainly he would have died if it hadn't been for the soap -concentrates. If he took that into consideration, though, it wasn't a -mistake at all, but a wise choice. - -A few days ago, when he was leaving my office--that is, the bridge--I -saw Charlie slip and start to fall. He didn't give up and go limp. He -gave his old dance of struggling to regain his balance. _Only this time -he made it!_ - -I began sweating again. - -After all the time, effort and money the Service puts into acquiring -and training a Prone, I wonder if it is possible for one to beat his -problem and cease to be an Accident Prone or even an accident prone. - -This afternoon, I passed Charlie Baxter's swimming pool and saw him -poised on his diving board. I waved and rather jauntily extended his -grandfather's wish for good luck: "Break a leg." - -Charlie grinned back at me. 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