Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 56: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

54 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION bearing. Should he named Puke. Proceeding Arlizgton Port 88.137 unless summoned by you. Mallory. Reading it over Leigh’s shoulder, Pascoe commented, ““That Boydell character has a flair for picking ugly ones right out of the sky. Why doesn’t someone choke him to death?” “Four hundred twenty-one recorded in there,’ reminded Leigh, tapping | his big chart book. “And about two-thirds of them come under the headings of ugly ones.” “It would save a lot of grief if the scouts ignored those and reported only the dumps worth having.” “Grief is the price of progress, you know that.” Leigh hurriedly left his desk, went to the port as something whirred outside. He picked up the phone. ““Where’s the ’copter going?” “Taking Garside and Walterson some place,’ replied a voice. ““The former wants more bugs and the latter wants rock-samples.”’ “All right. Has that film been finished yet?’’ “Yes, commodore. It has come out good and clear. Want me to set it up in the projection room?” “You might as well. I’ll be there right away. Have somebody get to work on the magazine in the patrol wagon. About half of it has been exposed.” *‘As you order, sir.” Summoning the rest of the specialist staff, of whom there were more than sixty, he accompanied them to the projection room, studied the record of Ogilvy’s survey. When it had finished the audience sat in glum silence. Nobody had anything to say. No comment was adequate. “A nice mess,” griped Pascoe after they had returned to the main cabin. ‘In the last one thousand years the human race has become wholly techno- logical. Even the lowest ranking space-marine is considerably of a technician, especially by standards of olden times.” “I know.” Leigh frowned futilely at the wall. “We are the brains,’’ Pascoe went on, determining to rub salt into the wounds. “And because we’re the brains we naturally dislike providing the muscle as well. We’re a cut above the mere hewing of wood and drawing of water.” “You're telling me nothing.” Down to telling it anyway, Pascoe continued, “‘So we’ve planted settlers on umpteen planets. And what sort of settlers are they? Bosses, overseers, boys who inform, advise, point and tell while the less advanced do the doing.” Leigh offered no remark. “Suppose Walterson and the others find this lousy sporld rich in the things we need,” he persisted. “How are we going to get at the stuff short of ex- cavating it ourselves? The Waitabits form a big and probably willing labor force but what’s the use of them if the most rudimentary job gets completed ten, twenty or fifty years hence? Who’s going to settle here and become a beast of burden as the only way of getting things done in jig time?” “Ogilvy went over a big dam and what looked like a hydroelectric plant,” observed Leigh, thoughtfully. “‘On Earth the entire project might have cost COMIC OOKS.COM 93