But, I Don't Think, Page 6

an orbit mentally was utterly simple comparedwith these fantastic problems.

  It was a question of a choice of three different types of cargoes, to becarried to three different destinations. Which would be the best choice?The most profitable from an energy standpoint, as far as the ship wasconcerned, considering the relative values of the cargoes? What aboutrelative spoilage rates as compared with fluctuating markets?

  The figures were all there, right before him in plain type. But theymeant nothing. Often, he had been unable to see how there was anydifference between one alternative and another.

  Once, he had been handed the transcripts of a trial on ship, duringwhich two conflicting stories of an incident had been told by witnesses,and a third by the defendant. How could one judge on something likethat? And yet he had been asked to.

  He bit his lower lip in nervousness, and then stopped immediately as herealized that this was no time to display nerves.

  "I should say that Plan B was the best choice," he said at last. It wasa wild stab at nothing, he realized, and yet he could do no better. Hadhe made a mistake?

  The captain nodded gravely. "Thank you, great sir. You've been mosthelpful. The making of decisions is too important to permit of its beingconsidered lightly."

  The Guesser could take it no longer. "It was a pleasure to be ofassistance," he said as he stood up, "but there are certain of my ownpapers to be gone over before we reach D'Graski's Planet. I trust Ishall be able to finish them."

  The captain stood up quickly. "Oh, certainly, great sir. I hope Ihaven't troubled you with my rather minor problems. I shan't disturb youagain during the remainder of the trip."

  The Guesser thanked him and headed for his cabin. He lay on his bed forhours with a splitting headache. If it weren't for the fact that he hadbeen forced to go about it this way, he would never have tried toimpersonate an Executive. Never!

  He wasn't even sure he could carry it off for the rest of the trip.

  Somehow, he managed to do it. He kept to himself and pretended that theblue traveling bag held important papers for him to work on, but hedreaded mealtimes, when he was forced to sit with the captain and twolieutenants, chattering like monkeys as they ate. And he'd had to talk,too; being silent might ruin the impression he had made.

  He hated it. A mouth was built for talking and eating, granted--but notat the same time. Of course, the Execs had it down to a fine art; theyhad a great deal more time for their meals than a Class Three, and theymanaged to eat a few bites while someone else was talking, then talkwhile the other ate. It was disconcerting and The Guesser nevercompletely got the hang of co-ordinating the two.

  Evidently, however, none of the three officers noticed it.

  By the time the _Trobwell_ reached D'Graski's Planet, he was actuallyphysically ill from the strain. One of the worst times had come duringan attack by Misfit ships. He had remained prone on his bed, his mindtensing at each change of acceleration in the ship. Without the screensand computer to give him data, he couldn't Guess, and yet he kepttrying; he couldn't stop himself. What made it worse was the knowledgethat his Guesses were coming out wrong almost every time.

  When the ship finally settled into the repair cradle, The Guesser couldhardly keep his hands from shaking. He left the ship feeling broken andold. But as his feet touched the ground, he thought to himself: _I madeit! In spite of everything, I made it!_

  And then two men walked toward him--two men wearing blue uniforms of aship's Disciplinary Corps. He not only recognized their faces, but hesaw the neat embroidery on the lapels.

  It said: _Naipor_.

  IV

  Space Captain Humbolt Reed, commander of the _Naipor_, looked at hisMaster Guesser and shook his head. "I ought to have you shot.Declassification is too good for you by far. Impersonating an Executive!How did you ever think you'd get away with it?" He paused, then barked:"Come on! Explain!"

  "It was the only way I could think of to get back to the _Naipor_, greatsir," said The Guesser weakly.

  The captain leaned back slowly in his seat. "Well, there's oneextenuating circumstance. The officers of the _Trobwell_ reported thatyou were a fine source of amusement during the trip. They enjoyed yourclownish performance very much.

  "Now, tell me exactly why you didn't show up for take-off on Viornis."

  The Guesser explained what had happened, his voice low. He told abouthaving something thrown at him, about the beamgun being fired at him. Hetold about the girl, Deyla. He told everything in a monotonousundertone.

  The captain nodded when he was through. "That tallies. It fits with theconfession we got."

  "Confession, sir?" The Guesser looked blank.

  Captain Reed sighed. "You're supposed to be a Guesser. Tell me, do youthink I personally, could beam you from behind?"

  "You're the captain, sir."

  "I don't mean for disciplinary purposes," the captain growled. "I meanfrom ambush."

  "Well ... no, sir. As soon as I knew you were there, I'd be able toGuess where you'd fire. And I wouldn't be there."

  "Then what kind of person would be able to throw something at you sothat you'd Guess, so that you'd dodge, and be so preoccupied with thatfirst dodging that you'd miss the Guess on the aiming of the beamgunbecause of sheer physical inertia? What kind of person would knowexactly where you'd be when you dodged? What kind of person would knowexactly where to aim that beamgun?"

  The Guesser had seen what was coming long before the captain finishedhis wordy interrogation.

  "Another Guesser, sir," he said. His eyes narrowed.

  "Exactly," said Captain Reed. "Your apprentice, Kraybo. He broke downduring a Misfit attack on the way here; he was never cut out to be aMaster Guesser, and even though he tried to kill you to get the job, hecouldn't handle it. He cracked completely as soon as he tried toco-ordinate alone. We've actually missed you, Master Guesser."

  "May I see to the disciplining of Kraybo, sir?" The Guesser askedcoldly.

  "You're too late. He's been declassified." The captain looked down atthe papers on his desk. "You may consider yourself reinstated, MasterGuesser, since the fault was not yours.

  "However, masquerading as an Exec, no matter how worthy your motives,cannot be allowed to go unpunished. You will report to the DisciplineMaster for a three-and-three every day for the next five days. And youwill not be allowed to leave the ship during the time we remain inrepair dock. Dismissed."

  "Thank you, great sir." The Guesser turned on his heel and marched out,heading for the Discipline Master.

  It was good to be home again.