PAGE 7
Anchorite
by
The third man was standing, leaning at a slight angle, so that his back touched the wall behind him. He was not tall–five nine–and his face and body were thin. His tanned skin seemed to be stretched tightly over this scanty padding, and in places the bones appeared to be trying to poke their way through to the surface. His ears were small and lay nearly flat against his head, and the hair on his skull was so sparse that the tanned scalp could be easily seen beneath it, although there was no actual bald spot anywhere. Only his large, luminous brown eyes showed that Nature had not skimped on everything when he was formed. His name was lettered neatly on the outside of the door to the office: Georges Alhamid. In spite of the French spelling, he pronounced the name “George,” in the English manner.
He had welcomed the two Earthmen into his office, smiling the automatic smile of the diplomat as he welcomed them to Pallas. As soon as they were comfortably seated–though perhaps that word did not exactly apply to Edway Tarnhorst–Georges Alhamid said:
“Now, gentlemen, what can I do for you?”
He asked it as though he were completely unaware of what had brought the two men to Pallas.
Tarnhorst looked as though he were privately astonished that his host could speak grammatically. “Mr. Alhamid,” he began, “I don’t know whether you’re aware that the industrial death rate here in the Belt has been the subject of a great deal of discussion in both industrial and governmental circles on Earth.” It was a half question, and he let it hang in the air, waiting to see whether he got an answer.
“Certainly my office has received a great deal of correspondence on the subject,” Alhamid said. His voice sounded as though Tarnhorst had mentioned nothing more serious than a commercial deal. Important, but nothing to get into a heavy sweat over.
Tarnhorst nodded and then held his head very still. His actions betrayed the fact that he was not used to the messages his semicircular canals were sending his brain when he moved his head under low gee.
“Exactly,” he said after a moment’s pause. “I have ‘stat copies of a part of that correspondence. To be specific, the correspondence between your office and the Workers’ Union Safety Control Board, and between your office and the Workingman’s Compensation Insurance Corporation.”
“I see. Well, then, you’re fully aware of what our trouble is, Mr. Tarnhorst. I’m glad to see that an official of the insurance company is taking an interest in our troubles.”
Tarnhorst’s head twitched, as though he were going to shake his head and had thought better of it a fraction of a second too late. It didn’t matter. The fluid in his inner ears sloshed anyway.
“I am not here in my capacity as an officer of the Workingman’s Compensation Insurance Corporation,” he said carefully. “I am here as a representative of the People’s Congress.”
Alhamid’s face showed a mild surprise which he did not feel. “I’m honored, of course, Mr. Tarnhorst,” he said, “but you must understand that I am not an official of the government of Pallas.”
Tarnhorst’s ascetic face betrayed nothing. “Since you have no unified government out here,” he said, “I cannot, of course, presume to deal with you in a governmental capacity. I have spoken to the Governor of Pallas, however, and he assures me that you are the man to speak to.”
“If it’s about the industrial death rate,” Alhamid agreed, “then he’s perfectly correct. But if you’re here as a governmental representative of Earth, I don’t understand–“
“Please, Mr. Alhamid,” Tarnhorst interrupted with a touch of irritation in his voice. “This is not my first trip to the Belt, nor my first attempt to deal with the official workings of the Confederated Cities.”
Alhamid nodded gently. It was, as a matter of fact, Mr. Tarnhorst’s second trip beyond the Martian orbit, the first having taken place some three years before. But the complaint was common enough; Earth, with its strong centralized government, simply could not understand the functioning of the Belt Confederacy. A man like Tarnhorst apparently couldn’t distinguish between government and business. Knowing that, Alhamid could confidently predict what the general sense of Tarnhorst’s next sentence would be.