But, I Don't Think
Copyright© 2018 by Randall Garrett
Chapter IV
Space Captain Humbolt Reed, commander of the Naipor, looked at his Master Guesser and shook his head. “I ought to have you shot. Declassification is too good for you by far. Impersonating an Executive! How did you ever think you’d get away with it?” He paused, then barked: “Come on! Explain!”
“It was the only way I could think of to get back to the Naipor, great sir,” said The Guesser weakly.
The captain leaned back slowly in his seat. “Well, there’s one extenuating circumstance. The officers of the Trobwell reported that you were a fine source of amusement during the trip. They enjoyed your clownish performance very much.
“Now, tell me exactly why you didn’t show up for take-off on Viornis.”
The Guesser explained what had happened, his voice low. He told about having something thrown at him, about the beamgun being fired at him. He told about the girl, Deyla. He told everything in a monotonous undertone.
The captain nodded when he was through. “That tallies. It fits with the confession we got.”
“Confession, sir?” The Guesser looked blank.
Captain Reed sighed. “You’re supposed to be a Guesser. Tell me, do you think I personally, could beam you from behind?”
“You’re the captain, sir.”
“I don’t mean for disciplinary purposes,” the captain growled. “I mean from ambush.”
“Well ... no, sir. As soon as I knew you were there, I’d be able to Guess where you’d fire. And I wouldn’t be there.”
“Then what kind of person would be able to throw something at you so that you’d Guess, so that you’d dodge, and be so preoccupied with that first dodging that you’d miss the Guess on the aiming of the beamgun because of sheer physical inertia? What kind of person would know exactly where you’d be when you dodged? What kind of person would know exactly where to aim that beamgun?”