Hoddan found himself sick with honest fury. The population of one-third of a planet, packed into spaceships for two years and more, would be appropriate subjects for sympathy at the best of times. But it was only accident that had kept these people from landing on Thetis by rocket-since none of their ships would be expected ever to rise again — and from having their men go out and joyfully hack at alien jungle to make room for their machines to land — and then find out they’d brought scrap metal for some thousands of light-years to no purpose.
They’d have starved outright. In fact, they were in not much better case right now. Because there was nowhere else that they could go! There was no new colony which could absorb so many people, with only their bare hands for equipment to live by. There was no civilized, settled world which could admit so many paupers without starving its own population. There was nowhere for these people to go! Hoddan’s anger took on the feeling of guilt He could do nothing, and something had to be done.
“Why — why did you come to Darth?” he asked. “What can you gain by orbiting here? You can’t expect—” The old man faced him. “We are beggars,” he said with bitter dignity. “We stopped here to ask for charity… for the old and worn-out machines the people of Darth can spare us. We will be grateful for even a single rusty plow. Because we have to go on. We can do nothing else. We will land on Thetis. And one plow can mean that a few of us will live who would otherwise die.”
Hoddan ran his hands through his hair. This was not his trouble, but he could not ignore it.
“But again, why Darth?” he asked helplessly. “Why not stop at a world with riches to spare? Darth’s a poor place.”
“Because it is the poor who are generous,” said the bearded man evenly.
Hoddan paced up and down. Presently he said jerkily:
“With all the good will in the world… Darth is poverty-stricken. It has no industries. It has no technology. It has not even roads! It is a planet of little villages and tiny towns. A ship from elsewhere stops here only once a month. Ground communications are almost non-existent. To spread the word of your need over Darth would require months. But to collect what might be given, without roads or even wheeled vehicles — it’s impossible! And I have the only space-vessel on the planet, and it’s not fit for a journey between suns.”
The bearded man waited with a sort of implacable despair.
“But,” continued Hoddan grimly, “I have an idea. I have contacts on Walden. The government of Walden does not regard charity with favor. The need for charity seems a — ah — a criticism of the Waldenian standard of living.”
The bearded man said coldly:
“I can understand that. The hearts of the rich are hardened. The existence of the poor is a reproach to them.”
But Hoddan began suddenly to see real possibilities. This was not a direct move toward the realization of his personal ambitions. But on the other hand, it wasn’t a movement away from them. Hoddan suddenly remembered an oration he’d heard his grandfather give many, many times in the past.
Straight thinking, the old man had said obstinately, is a delusion. You think things out clear and simple, and you can see yourself ruined and your family starving any day! Real things ain’t simple! Any time you try to figure things out so they’s simple and straightforward, you’re gain against nature and you’re going to get ’em mixed up! So when something happens and you’re in a straightforward, hopeless fix, why, you go along with nature! Make it as complicated as you can, and the people who want you in trouble will get hopeless confused and you can get out!
Hoddan adverted to his grandfather’s wisdom, not making it the reason for doing what he could, but accepting the fact that it might possibly apply. He saw one possibility right away. It looked fairly good. After a minute’s examination it looked better. It was astonishing how plausible…
“Hmmmmmm,” he said. “I have planned work of my own, as you may have guessed. I am here because of — ah — people on Walden. If I could make a quick trip to Walden my — hm — present position might let me help you. I cannot promise very much, but if I can borrow even the smallest of your ships for the journey my spaceboat can’t make, why, I may be able to do something. Much more than can be done on Darth!”
The bearded man looked at his companions.
“He seems frank,” he said, “and we can lose nothing. We have stopped our journey and are in orbit. We can wait. Our people should not go to Walden. Fleshpots—”
“I can find a crew,” said Hoddan cheerfully. Inwardly he was tremendously relieved. “If you say the word, I’ll go down to ground and come back with them. I’ll want a very small ship!”
“It will be,” said the old man. “We thank you.”
“Get it inboard, here,” suggested Hoddan, “so I can come inside as before, transfer my crew without spacesuits, and leave my boat in your care until I come back.”
“It shall be done,” said the old man firmly. He added gravely, “You must have had an excellent upbringing, young man, to be willing to live among the poverty-stricken people you describe, and to be willing to go so far to help strangers like ourselves.”
“Eh?” Then Hoddan said enigmatically. “What lessons I shall apply to your affairs, I learned at the knee of my beloved grandfather.”
Of course, his grandfather was head of the most notorious gang of pirates on the disreputable planet Zan, but Hoddan found himself increasingly respectful of the old gentleman as he gained experience on various worlds.
He went briskly back to his spaceboat. On the way he made verbal arrangements for the enterprise he’d envisioned so swiftly. It was remarkable how two sets of troubles could provide suggestions for their joint alleviation. He actually saw possible achievement before him. Even in electronics!
By the time the cargo-hold was again pumped empty and the great door opened to the vastness of space, Hoddan had a very broad view of things. He’d said that same day to Fani that a practical man can always make what he wants to do look like a sacrifice for others’ welfare. He began to suspect, now, that the welfare of others can often coincide with one’s own.
He needed some rather extensive changes in the relationship of the cosmos to himself. Walden was prepared to pay bribes for him. Don Loris felt it necessary to have him confined somewhere. There were a number of Darthian gentlemen who would assuredly like to slaughter him if he weren’t kept out of their reach in some cozy dungeon. But up to now there had been not even a practical way to leave Darth, to act upon Walden, or even to change his status in the eyes of Darthians.
He backed out of the big ship and consulted the charts of the lifeboat. They had been consulted before, of course, to locate the landing-grid which did not answer calls. He found its position. He began to compare the chart with what he saw from out here in orbit above Darth. He identified a small ocean, with Darth’s highest mountain chain just beyond its eastern limit. He identified a river system, emptying into that sea. And here he began to get rid of his excess velocity, because the landing-grid was not very far distant.
To a scientific pilot, his maneuvering from that time on would have been a complex task. The advantage of computation over astrogation by ear, however, is largely a matter of saving fuel. A perfectly computed course for landing will get down to ground with the use of the least number of centigrams of fuel. But fuel-efficient maneuvers are rarely time-efficient ones.
Hoddan hadn’t the time or the data for computation. He swung the spaceboat end for end, very judgematically used rocketpower to slow himself to a suitable east-west velocity, and at the last and proper instant applied full power for deceleration and went down practically like a stone. One cannot really learn this. It has to be absorbed through the pores of one’s skin. That was the way Hoddan had absorbed it, on Zan.