The Protector
BY BETSY CURTIS
Illustrated by DAVID STONE
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction February 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
There's a fortune in a boxer who feels no pain.
This one didn't, except in odd ways....
How come I live here on Gorlin permanent? Well, it's something likethis.
There is nobody real surprised when some scientist writes an articlein the Sunday supplement about the primitive tribes of Anestha dyingout probably. The Anesthon natives is freaks, anyway, and folks justnaturally figure they can't last long in stiff competition. If youare like them and your body don't feel any pain any time, you need anursemaid around to keep you from doing dumb things, like walking infront of a truck or starving to death.
I am here on Gorlin a couple times and know about 'em. Some folks thinkit's comical to watch the space crews think up ways to give an Anesthona workout. I see one Anesthon girl—a real looker she is, too—dancefourteen hours before she gives out, just for a bottle of perfume andone of them Venusian fur lounge robes. They sure enjoy their pleasures,even if they never feel no pain. You feeling any? More thiska?
Hey, Noor! Another round of thiska for the boys!
Well, they can feel your feelings, and any thoughts that are aboutthem, too. I guess all they live for is pleasure and a pat on theback. One time a little runty Anesthon guy even builds a whole stoneblockhouse for a first looie, when the looie thinks real hard thatthe little guy looks like a first-rate hod carrier. Time the house isbuilt, the Anesthon's hands is all bloody and one ankle broke where achunk of rock drops on him. He don't notice it, of course.
Pierre gets all worked up about them Anestha dying out. That's myboy Pierre, the heavyweight. I name him Pierre so's nobody thinks heis tough till afterward. He comes from Gorlin. Of course I have tostable him on Venus long enough for a legal residence, or the BoxingCommission would have him investigated and maybe banned from the ringas a telepath. Tough training him, too. He can't see the sense offighting, but, man, he can stay in the ring all night. He never doesget real speedy on his feet, but he learns fast and packs a wickedleft. I don't have to lie when I am thinking real hard he is champeenmaterial.
Anyhow, Pierre gets all worked up over his race getting extinct. He hasa sister who is glenched to some nice boy and his old man is some sortof a chief. He is all for beating it back by the next via-Venus ship tosee what is getting at the old folks at home. I calm him down though,give him a couple of shots of thiska and say I better take him aroundto see that scientist-dopester and get the inside first. I have to goeverywhere with him to see he doesn't break a leg and forget to tell meabout it.
So we hop a TAT in Chi and make for Washington where this sciencefellow is with some Smithsonian Institute. He is nice enough aboutseeing us, but he can't figure how a Chinaman like Pierre has anycall to be steamed up about the Anestha (you seen these Anestha withtheir slick black hair and goldy skin and smooth eyelids like a EarthChinaman) so I have to break down and tell him about Pierre being an