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"Been looking over the reports, and see your crew is getting out more ore'n any of the others," the super's voice held just a tinge of anxiety, and Hanlon began probing that mind to see if he could discover just what all this portended. "I just keep 'em at it," he shrugged. "No trouble?" "Nope, no trouble. Look at 'em," he waved his hand at the busy crew.
One evening at dinner, some time later, Hanlon became aware that the guard, Gorton, was growling at him. He looked up in surprise, and forced himself to pay attention to the big man's words. "I ask ya, whatcha tryin' t' do, punk?" the small pig-eyes glared redly at him, and the voice was harsh and bitter. "Try'n'a show up us other guards? What'sa big idea, gettin' out more ore'n we do?"
"I'm still not altogether sure we do," the Leader said slowly. "Still harping on that?" Hanlon demanded hotly. "What makes you think I'm not on the up and up? I worked hard on that stinking hot planet. I got out more ore'n anyone else ever did. And my suggestion about nitrates ..." "Ah, yes, the matter of the ... uh ... fertilizer. What made you bring that up?"
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