Man of Many Minds

by E. Everett Evans

That evening after dinner he stayed outside, ostensibly walking about aimlessly, in reality looking at and studying the stars when he was sure no one was watching him.

He couldn't spot any of the more familiar constellations such as the Big Dipper, Bear, or the Southern Cross. He knew he was far to one side of the galaxy from Terra—that while from there one could see the "front" of those configurations, now he would be getting a "sidewise" view. But he could identify quite a few of the bigger suns and distant nebulae.

He picked out several blue-white and red giants he was sure he knew. That was Andromeda off there; that one was undoubtedly Orion—no other contained so many 4.0 to 5.2 stars, beside the gigantic Rigel, Betelgeuse and Bellatrix.

Good, he could fix all that in his mind well enough to draw it when he got back, and the Corps planetographers certainly would pin-point this system from those directions. Distance—let's see? He strained to remember the time it had taken that freighter to come here, and estimated that, with its slower speed, this world was somewhere between ten and fifteen lights. He would time it more carefully, going back, and estimate the ship's speed as closely as possible.

Young George Hanlon was maturing swiftly under the stress of the tremendous task he was attempting. He was learning that he must think and plan well ahead of time. He realized he could not afford to make any serious mistakes, lest not only his task remain uncompleted, but his life be forfeit as well.

He knew now that it was absolutely imperative that he get back to Simonides at the earliest possible moment, and that the way to be sure of this was to so impress Philander that he would feel duty-bound to give Hanlon his vacation at end of the minimum time.

So Hanlon devoted many hours of serious thought to this problem, and finally figured out several courses of action. The next day, as soon as his shift was over, Hanlon walked across the compound and knocked on the door of the headquarters office. When bade to enter he did so, hat in hand.

"Have you got a half hour or so to talk, Mr. Philander, sir?" he asked. "I've got a couple of ideas I'd like to gab with you about, that I think might speed up production even more."

The man looked up in surprise, and his eyes bored deeply, suspiciously into Hanlon's. "You think you can tell me how to run my job?" he rasped.

"Oh, no, sir. I didn't mean about the engineering or supervision. It's about handling the natives, and getting more out of them. You've said I was getting out more ore than the others, and I think perhaps I've got a few ideas—a sort of hunch about making the Greenies themselves more productive."