All Judgment Fled (5 page)

talk
like a psychologist . . .

 

 

He went on, "Well now, I realize that being separated from the rest
of humanity by fifty million miles is bad enough. But if you have been
rejected, or feel that you have been rejected by the other men in the
ship, that could be the initial cause of your trouble. Your evident
anxiety over this secret you have uncovered will not have helped matters."

 

 

McCullough had an almost overwhelming urge to scratch his left armpit
through his spacesuit, and another sympathetic itch raged behind his right
knee. He continued, "A rejected person tends to become self-conscious and
much more aware of himself both physically and mentally. Your body becomes
much more sensitive, even hypersensitive, to stimuli which are normally
ignored. Your trouble probably began with an itchy scalp or ear lobe which
you scratched almost without thinking. But gradually, through constant
repetition and irritation, the psychosomatic itch became a real one.

 

 

"This is an extreme oversimplification, of course," McCullough said.
"Doubtless there were many other factors which contributed to your
present sorry state. But right now we should do something positive about
alleviating your present condition -- with something more than lanolin,
since that would relieve only the physical symptoms. Also, since the axiom
that a trouble shared is a trouble halved is so old and true that it was
used before psychology was invented, I would like to know what the other
two are keeping secret which distresses you so much. I'll be discreet,
of course . . ."

 

 

He let the sentence hang, but obviously Hollis needed more coaxing.
McCullough tried a different tack. He said, "What is Morrison like as
a person? And Drew? How have their relations toward you changed since
the beginning of the trip? Be as objective as you can . . ."

 

 

A person could say an awful lot about themselves by the way they talked
about someone else.

 

 

As he began to talk, Hollis may have thought that he was being objective,
and McCullough, too, lost quite a lot of his objectivity as he listened.
He began to feel angry with Morrison and Drew, particularly with the colonel.
For despite his phenomenal brain, Hollis had always been the shy, timid,
eager-to-please type and the necessary allowances should have been made.
As his relations with the other two had steadily worsened, in an attempt
to get on better terms with them again, his timidity had increased to
ridiculous and quite irritating proportions for a grown man. He had
abased himself and fawned and generally carried on like a frightened dog.

 

 

This was not the way Hollis told it, of course. McCullough was reading
between the lines.

 

 

It had started because the colonel and Drew knew each other long before
either of them were connected with astronautics. They had served together
briefly in southeast Asia and Drew had done Morrison some sort of favor.
Hollis had been unable to ascertain whether the favor had been sordid
or sublime, whether it involved white slavery, the black market, or just
saving the colonel's life.

 

 

As the weeks went by, the two had talked together more and more often
about their small war, mentioning people and places and making stupid,
in-group jokes. Hollis was excluded to an increasing extent from these
conversations and when, out of sheer desperation, he tried to join in,
he usually made a mess of it and stopped the conversation stone dead.

 

 

Listening to the physicist, McCullough could not help thinking of his own
ship. He hesitated to make comparisons with the two comedian-psychologists
on P-Two, and the sometimes artificial atmosphere of good cheer they
generated, but if Morrison and Drew had made a similar effort, Hollis
would probably not be in his present condition. From his knowledge
of Hollis during training, he thought the physicist, once he got over
his initial shyness and timidity, would have been a very pleasant and
stimulating person to have on a long voyage.

 

 

Instead they had talked about their jungle air war as if it had been some
kind of exclusive holiday, in a language which excluded Hollis. Then
they had gone on to talk about another matter -- again in the cryptic,
slangy manner the physicist was not supposed to understand. But Hollis
had been able to understand -- a little at first, then later he had been
able to piece together the whole frightful operation. He freely admitted
to McCullough that he was uneducated where such things as women and power
politics were concerned, because so much of his life had been spent in
collecting degrees, but this did not mean that he was stupid . . . !

 

 

"This was when you became restless and itchy, I take it," McCullough
broke in at that point, "and you began to irritate the others. How did
they react?"

 

 

"The colonel didn't react at all," said Hollis. "He just looked
long-suffering and stopped talking to me completely. Drew swore at me for
a time, then he went the same way. They started going outside together
between lectures, connecting their air lines to the ship supply so as not
to waste tanked air. They switched off their radios sometimes and talked
by touching helmets. But there was sound conduction along the return
air line and sometimes I could make out a word here and there. Enough
to know what was going on.

 

 

"Did you know," Hollis rushed on, "that the Hold at takeoff was deliberate?
That Morrison has made no attempt to close the distance between the two
ships? Fuel conservation, he says -- but your ship is expendable, did
you know that? They've discussed all sorts of hypothetical approaches
and tactics to use against the alien ship, the desirability of an armed
as opposed to an unarmed approach . . ."

 

 

Hollis' arms were partly folded and he was tearing absent-mindedly at
his forearms with fingernails which had been gnawed too short to do any
real damage. Suddenly he stopped scratching, closed his eyes tightly and
said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you. But you've a right to know,
Doctor. P-One is carrying a Dirty Annie!"

 

 

Dirty Annie was a nuclear device which was a little too destructive and
long-lasting in its aftereffects to be called tactical. Mccullough was
silent for a moment as he thought over all the implications of what he
had heard, then he said, "This is serious."

 

 

It was a dangerously ambiguous remark, he realized as soon as he said it,
but Hollis had not noticed that. The physicist was talking furiously,
apologizing for sharing his worries with the doctor, pleading with him
not to tell the colonel, and to do something about Morrison and Drew.
McCullough listened with half his mind while the other half cringed
with sympathy.

 

 

Not all of the sympathy was for Hollis.

 

 

Morrison and Drew could not have had a very pleasant time either,
driven as they had been into long periods of unscheduled extravehicular
activity. They may well have been guilty of thoughtlessness in their
dealings with Hollis, but constant EVA put a dangerous strain on their
suits. The P-Ships could not afford the weight penalty of carrying spare
spacesuits, much less weaponry.

 

 

McCullough wondered suddenly what shape his own delusion would have taken,
what particular nightmare his own subconscious would have dredged up,
if Walters and Berryman had rejected him. An atomic bomb was perhaps a
too simple form for a physicist's nightmare to take, but then at heart
Hollis was a very simple man.

 

 

There still remained the question of his treatment.

 

 

Very quietly and seriously McCullough said, "Naturally I shall not mention
this to the colonel or Drew. At the proper time I may discuss it with
Walters and Berryman -- but they won't talk out of turn either. It's hard
to say exactly what we must do about it until the time comes, but when
it does, remember that we will be four against their two. And remember
this as well; the problem isn't yours alone any more -- three of your
friends will be helping you solve it. They may even, since they are not
so close to it as you are and may thus be able to consider the problem
more objectively, solve it for you. Think about this, won't you? Think
about it really hard."

 

 

McCullough paused for a moment, then went on, "You have already realized
that your condition is directly attributable to worry about this bomb --
anyone with an ounce of sensitivity in them would have reacted in much
the same fashion. But there is no necessity to worry now -- at least to
the extent where it affects you physically.

 

 

"You may be surprised how quickly this skin condition clears up,"
he continued, "and how comfortable you will begin to feel generally.
The colonel will be surprised, too, and for that reason I'll leave a supply
of medication to help the process along. Morrison will assume that the
salve and tablets are effecting a cure, but this is a necessary subterfuge
since you can't very well tell him the real cause of your improvement --
the fact that his secret is now common property. But in order to allay
his suspicions further, I will have to be very tough -- or appear to be
very tough -- on you."

 

 

McCullough was going to be very tough with Drew and the colonel as well.
He was going to insist that Morrison pad and bandage the patient's hands
so that he would be unable to scratch himself, giving his skin condition a
chance to heal, which meant that Hollis would have to be fed and generally
wet-nursed by the other two men. Drew would probably come in for most
of the work, but the application of salve and the checking of Hollis'
condition -- McCullough would insist on daily progress reports -- would be
a two-man job. In short, Hollis must no longer be treated as an outcast,
and Morrison and Drew would be made to realize that psychosomatic leprosy
was not catching.

 

 

Drew and the colonel might not be too gentle in their treatment of the
patient at first; it would be embarrassing for all concerned and the
atmosphere would be anything but warm and friendly. But at least they
would not be ignoring Hollis and that was an important first step. Later,
other steps would suggest themselves. McCullough was confident that it
would be only a matter of time before the physicist was back to normal
and the relationships inside P-One more -- harmonious.

 

 

At no time did McCullough consider the possibility of the colonel refusing
to cooperate. In the medical area Morrison was outranked and he was not
the type to disobey a lawful order.

 

 

Later, when they were all crammed into the control module, McCullough was
relieved and pleased at the reception given his suggestions for treating
Hollis. It was now apparent that the other two had felt a certain amount
of guilt over the way they had behaved toward the physicist and were very
anxious to make it up to him. It restored McCullough's faith in people,
especially in cold, withdrawn and not very friendly people like Morrison
and Drew. He would have liked a long, private talk with the two men as
well, if only to get their side of the business, but in the circumstances
that might not be possible without running the risk of having Hollis
think he had acquired another enemy instead of three friends . . .

 

 

He had a lot to think about on the way back, and this time he kept his
hands and feet in their cuffs and stirrups and his eyes wide open until
he saw P-Two again and Berryman and Walters were helping him out of his
suit and he was saying, in a tone much more serious than he had intended,
"It's nice to be home again."

 

 

 

 

chapter six

 

 

Radio interference had all but disappeared, so that the lectures, music,
last-minute instructions and reminders that this was an epoch-making event
and would they please not do anything silly, poured in on them constantly
and so clearly that they had no real excuse to switch off. They were told
that they must at all costs remember and apply the knowledge gained during
their trip out, but at the same time they must not hesitate to forget
all of their scientific, sociological and psychological theories and
preconceptions if the situation warranted it. They were told to do,
or not do, this several times an hour.

 

 

One did not have to be a psychologist to realize that the people at
Prometheus Control had worked themselves into a fine state of jitters.

 

 

"The awful black immensity of space," said Walters sourly during one of
the rare radio silences. "The vast and aching loneliness between the stars,
the unutterable, soul-destroying boredom. Dammit, they won't even give us
ten minutes peace and quiet to feel bored
in
."

 

 

Shaking his head, Berryman intoned, "Is some superhuman extraterrestrial
intelligence already brushing our minds with unfelt tendrils of thought,
sizing us up, judging us and perhaps with us the whole human race? Or
is some bug-eyed bugger sitting at a rocket launcher just waiting for
us to come into range?"

 

 

"We've been over all this before!" said McCullough, suddenly angry at the
pilot for bringing up the subject which they all wanted to leave alone.
Then awkwardly he tried to turn it into a joke by adding, "Three times
in the last hour . . ."

 

 

"Thrust in minus thirty seconds, P-Two. Stand by, P-One . . ."

 

 

There was a note of self-satisfaction overlaying the tension in the voice
of Control and, considering the fact that their computations had resulted
in them hitting an impossibly small target with both ships, their smugness
was perhaps justified. But McCullough wondered, a little cynically,
how pleased an arrow was with the archer when a bull's-eye or a miss
into the sandbags would result in an equally violent headache . . .