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“Have you talked to the men?”

“Yes. They have no complaints.”

Again Tarnhorst nodded. “I have found the same thing. They all insist that if a man gets killed in space, it’s not the fault of anyone but himself. Or, as it may be, an act of God.”

“One of my instructors ran into an act of God some years ago,” Danley said. “You’ve met him. Brand–the one with the scarred face.” He explained to Tarnhorst what had caused Brand’s disfigurement. “But he survived,” he finished, “because he kept his wits about him even after he was hit.”

“Commendable; very commendable,” Tarnhorst said. “If he’d been an excitable fool, he’d have died.”

“True. But what I was trying to point out was that it wasn’t equipment failure that caused the accident.”

“No. You’re quite right.” Tarnhorst was silent for a moment, then he looked into Danley’s eyes. “Do you think you could take on a job as anchor man now?”

“I don’t know,” said Danley evenly. “But I’m going to find out tomorrow.”

* * * * *

Peter Danley took his final examination the following day. All by himself, he went through the procedure of positioning his ship, setting up a rocket drill, firing it, and setting in an anchor. It was only a small rock, nine meters through, but the job was almost the same as with the big ones. Not far away, Captain St. Simon watched the Earthman’s procedure through a pair of high-powered field glasses. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when the job was done.

“Jules,” he said softly, “I am sure glad that man didn’t hurt himself any.”

“Yes, suh! We’d of sho’ been in trouble if he’d of killed hisself!”

“We will have to tell Captain Brand that our pupil has done pretty well for such a small amount of schooling.”

“I think that would be proper, m’lud.”

“And we will also have to tell Captain Brand that this boy wouldn’t last a month. He wouldn’t come back from his first trip.”

There was no answer to that.

* * * * *

Three days later, amid a cloud of generally satisfied feelings, Edway Tarnhorst and Peter Danley took the ship back to Earth.

“I cannot, of course, give you a copy of my report,” Tarnhorst had told Georges Alhamid. “That is for the eyes of the Committee only. However, I may say that I do not find the Belt Companies or the governments of the Belt Cities at fault. Do you want to know my personal opinion?”

“I would appreciate it, Mr. Tarnhorst,” Georges had said.

“Carelessness. Just plain carelessness on the part of the workers. That is what has caused your rise in death rates. You people out here in the Belt have become too used to being in space. Familiarity breeds contempt, Mr. Alhamid.

“Steps must be taken to curb that carelessness. I suggest a publicity campaign of some kind. The people must be thoroughly indoctrinated in safety procedures and warned against carelessness. Just a few months of schooling isn’t enough, Mr. Alhamid. You’ve got to start pounding it into their heads early.

“If you don’t–” He shook his head. (He had grown used to doing so in low gravity by now.) “If the death rate isn’t cut down, we shall have to raise the premium rates, and I don’t know what will happen on the floor of the People’s Congress. However, I think I can guarantee six months to a year before any steps are taken. That will give you time to launch your safety campaign. I’m certain that as soon as this carelessness is curbed, the claims will drop down to their former low point.”

“We’ll certainly try that,” Alhamid had said heartily. “Thank you very much, Mr. Tarnhorst.”