immaged
with the team, and I'm glad to be able to sit on the side-lines and
cheer even if I can't carry the ball. (It just occurred to me that
those metaphors might be a little cloudy to you, since you don't
have football in the Belt, but I think you see what I mean.) I
imagine that most of the men who have no "space experience" feel
the same way. They know they'd never make a go of it out in space,
but they're happy to be water boys.

I wish I could stay in the Belt. I'm enough of a spaceman to
appreciate what it really is to be a member of a space society. But
I also know that I'd never last. I'm not fitted for it, really.
I've had a small taste of it, but I know I couldn't take a full
dose. I've worked hard for the influence and security I have in my
job, and I couldn't give it up. Maybe this brands me as a coward in
your eyes, and maybe I am a coward, but that's the way I'm built. I
hope you'll take that into account when you think of me.

At any rate, I have done what I have done. On Earth, there are men
who envy you and hate you, and there will be others who will try to
destroy you, but I have done what I could to give you a chance to
gain the strength you need to resist the encroachment of Earth's
sickness.

I have a feeling that Tarnhorst saw your greatness, too, although
he'd never admit it, even to himself. Certainly something changed
him during the last months, even though he doesn't realize it. He
came out wanting to help--and by that, he meant help the common
people against the "tyranny" of the Companies. He still wants to
help the common people, but now he wants to do it _through_ the
Companies. The change is so subtle that he doesn't think he's
changed at all, but I can see it.

I don't deserve any thanks for what I have done. All I have done is
repay you in the only way I knew how for what you have done for me.
I may never see you again, captain, but I will always remember you.
Please convey my warmest regards to Captain Brand and to Mr.
Alhamid.

Sincerely,

Peter Danley

* * * * *

Georges Alhamid handed the letter back to St. Simon. "There's your star
pupil," he said gently.

St. Simon nodded. "The wise fool. The guy who's got sense enough to know
that he isn't competent to do the job."