MAN OF MANY MINDS

by E. EVERETT EVANS

PYRAMID BOOKS, 444 Madison Avenue, New York 22, New York

A Pyramid Book, published by arrangement with Fantasy Press

Pyramid Books edition: November, 1959

Copyright, (c) 1953, by E. Everett EvansAll Rights Reserved

_Printed in the United States of America_

_This book is fiction. No resemblance is intended between any characterherein and any person, living or dead; any such resemblance is purelycoincidental. _

 * * * * *

To Thelma, a wedding anniversary present

 * * * * *

GALAXY IN DANGER!

Somewhere, somehow, the first moves have been made--the pattern isbeginning to emerge. Someone--or something--is on the way to supremepower over all the planets held by Man. 

And the Inter-stellar Corps is helpless to meet the threat--no normalman can hope to penetrate the conspiracy. 

But--the Corps has a man who isn't normal, a man with a very strangeweapon. . . 

. . . _his mind_. 

Exciting! Strange! Extraordinary! One of the most unusual sciencefiction adventures ever published. 

Chapter 1

Cadet George Hanlon stood stiffly at attention. But as the long, longminutes dragged on and on, he found his hands, his spine and hisforehead cold with the sweat of fear. He tried manfully to keep his eyesfixed steadily on that emotionless face before him, but found it almostimpossible to do so. 

Tension grew and grew and grew in the room until it seemed the verywalls must bulge, or the windows burst to relieve the pressure. Thecadet felt he could not stand another minute of it without screaming. Why didn't that monster say something? What kind of torture was this, anyway? And why was he here in the first place? He couldn't think of asingle reg he had broken--yet why else would he be called before AdmiralRogers, the dread Commandant of Cadets?

In spite of his utmost efforts to stand eye to eye with the commandant, Hanlon couldn't keep his gaze steadily on that feared visage. His eyesinsisted on straying, time after time, although he always forced themback. He caught glimpses of the dozens of communicator studs and plateson the huge metal desk. He saw the bit of scenery showing through thewindow. He noted the pictures of great Corps heroes that adorned thewalls. In fact, he had to look at anything except those boring, impassive eyes fixed so steadily on his own face. If only he could gainsuch perfect control of his nerves. If only he knew what this was allabout!

By the big wall chronom he saw he had already been standing there atrigid attention a full five minutes. The second hand crept around again. Six minutes! It dragged slowly around once again. Seven minutes. 

Then the unbearable silence was mercifully broken by the admiral'svoice. 

"In some ways, Mister, you're quite a stupid young man, " he said. "I'minclined to be disappointed in you. "

Hanlon gave a start of surprise, and forced himself to scrutinize morecarefully that enigmatic face. 

"What . . . What do you mean, sir?"

The stern eyes were still boring into his. But now the cadet thought hecould detect a trace of secret amusement behind them. 

"Why do you torture yourself like this? You know how to find out whatit's all about. "

There was a sinking feeling in George Hanlon's mind. Did that mean whathe was afraid it meant?

He sent out a tentative feeler of thought toward the mind behind thatexpressionless face. He expected to find it difficult to do, because oflong disuse of the faculty. But he was amazed both at the ease withwhich the technique returned to him, and with the feeling of warmfriendliness he found in that mind--almost like a sort of fatherlypride. 

He probed a bit deeper, and was aware of assurance that he had donenothing to merit punishment. Indeed, it seemed he could catch exactlythe opposite feeling. 

He must have shown his relief, for the commandant's stern face relaxedinto a broad smile, and he lounged back in his big chair. 

"That's better. At ease, and sit down. "

Slowly, disbelieving the sudden change, the astonished young cadetgingerly sank onto the front edge of a chair. He had to, his legs weresuddenly rubbery. 

"I . . . I don't understand at all, sir. "

The admiral leaned forward and spoke impressively. "Do you think, CadetHanlon, that we would let any man get to within weeks of graduationwithout knowing all about him?"

The young man's eyes widened, and his hands clutched at his knees in aneffort to keep them from shaking. 

"Oh, yes, we know all about you, George Spencer Newton Hanlon, " and thecadet's eyes opened even wider at that name. "We know about your talentfor mind-reading as a child, and how you suppressed it as you grew olderand found how it got you into trouble. We know all about your father'sdisgrace and disappearance; your mother's death; your running away, andyour adoption by the Hanlons, whose last name you assumed. "

"How . . . How'd you learn all that, sir?"

"The Corps has its ways. And that's why you're here now. Oh, all theFifth Year Cadets will be interviewed by myself or my assistants thiscoming week, to determine their first assignment after graduation. But Icalled you in today for a very, very special reason. And your ability toread minds is part of it. "

The cadet drew himself up stiffly. "I'm through with all that, sir, definitely!"

The commandant regarded him enigmatically for a moment. "Just what doyou expect to do in the Corps, Mister?"

"Why, whatever I'm assigned to do, I suppose, sir. Or whatever I cando. "

"And just how far will you go for the Corps?" The admiral leaned forwardand eyed him critically. 

"All the way, sir, of course. "

"Don't you believe a Corpsman should use all his abilities in hisservice?" The question was barked at him. 

"Certainly, sir. " But his eyes showed he realized he had been trapped bythat admission. 

"You're one of the few persons known who have ever actually been able toread another's mind. That's important--very important--to the Corps. _Itmust be used!_"

Hanlon's eyes were still stormy, but he kept his lips tightly closed. 

The commandant's face grew kindly again. "We know how it got you intotrouble when you were a boy, because the other children resented it, andavoided or abused you for using it on them. But now it will be a greatassistance to you--and to the Corps. We know you will use that talentwisely, for it has been proven time and again, by test after test, thatyou are scrupulously honest. You've lost your allowance several times incard games, when you could have read what cards your opponents held, andso won. You have let yourself fail on examination questions you did notknow, when you could have read the answers in your instructor's mind. "

"No, not that, sir, " Hanlon shook his head. "I never could read from amind such specific information as answers to questions or to problems. "

"I imagine that will come when you start using your talent maturely, "Admiral Rogers shrugged indifferently. "But at the moment I want to talkvery seriously about your assignment. First, however, I must have yourmost solemn oath never to reveal what I am about to tell you, for it isour most carefully-guarded secret. "

"I swear by my mother's memory, sir, never to reveal anything I am toldto keep confidential. "

"Very well. I have been delegated by the High Command to ask you to jointhe Secret Service of the Inter-stellar Corps. "

Cadet George Hanlon drew in a sharp, startled breath and half-rose fromhis chair. "The . . . The Secret Service, sir? I didn't know there wasone. "

"I told you it was top secret, " Admiral Rogers said impressively. "Webelieve no one knows anything about its existence outside of themembership of that service, and officers of the rank of Rear Admiral orabove. "

The young cadet sat silent, his eyes on the tips of his polished boots, as though to see reflected there the answer to this astounding newsituation that had been slapped into his consciousness. 

This was all so utterly unforeseen. He had dreamed of doing great deedsin the Corps, of course, but actually had never expected to be assignedto anything but routine work at first. His mind was a chaotic whirlpoolof conjectures. How could he fit into such an organization? Why had hebeen selected? Surely, the fact that as a child he was supposed to havebeen a mind-reader wasn't enough . . . Or was it, from their standpoint?

After some time he looked up. "I don't know as I'd make a very gooddetective, sir. "

Admiral Rogers threw back his head and laughed, breaking the tension. "Ithink, and so do the top men of the Secret Service, who have studied youthoroughly, that you will soon become one of its most useful members. "

That was another shock, but out of it grew determination. 

"Very well, sir, I'll try it. "

"Good! But not 'try it, ' Hanlon. Once you're in, it's for life. Andthere's one other thing I haven't told you yet. I couldn't, until afteryou had agreed to join. This may make you change your mind, which youare still at liberty to do. "

The cadet's throat tightened, and he moistened his lips as he saw theadmiral's face grow ominous. 

"I want you to consider this very seriously, " he said slowly, grimly, and Hanlon's probing mind caught the aura of importance in his manner. "Take your time, and figure carefully all the angles and connotationsinherent in it, for it will not be an easy decision to make. "

He paused impressively. "Here it is, cold! You'll have to be, apparently, dismissed from the Corps in disgrace. That is horriblyharsh, we know, " he added quickly, compassionately, as he saw the lookof dismay that whitened the cadet's face. "But we have found over theyears that it is the best way to make members of the SS most valuable tous. Every one of them has gone through the same thing, if that is anyencouragement or consolation. "

Young Hanlon's spirits sank to absolute nadir. "Not . . . Not evengraduate?" he whispered, agonizedly. 

"Not publicly, with your class, no. But you'll be given privategraduation, for you'll still be a member of the Corps. "

He was silent again to allow the young man to recover a bit, thencontinued in a fatherly voice. "We know it's a terrible price to ask anyman to pay. It takes guts to withstand, publicly and willingly, thedishonor, the loss of friends and the good will of people who know you. It means life-long disgrace in the eyes of the public and those membersof the Corps who have ever known you or will hear of you. "

The blood drained from Hanlon's face, his breathing was quick andrasping. The admiral's heart went out to him in sympathy, but he had tokeep on. Now, though, he tried to soften the blow. 

"Yet there are rewards in honor from those who do know. There will comea deep satisfaction from the years of devoting your life and abilitiesto the tremendous service of maintaining peace and security for allmankind of the entire Federation of Planets. Actually, the SS does moreto keep that peace than all the rest of the Corps. So these things are, in the estimation of those who have gone through it, well worth any painand humiliation they have to suffer. "

His tone was so kind that Hanlon found a measure of comfort in the looksand attitude of the officer before him, now suddenly not a dread ogre, and martinet, but a kindly, fatherly, understanding friend. 

George Hanlon sat with downcast eyes, thinking swiftly but more cogentlythan he had ever done before. He had come into this room still a boydespite his twenty-two years. Now, abruptly, he was roughly forced intomanhood. 

As such an adult, then, he quickly realized this was the crucial pointin his life to date--probably in all the years to come. But to lose therespect and friendship of everyone he knew--he shuddered. To bedespised, an outcast!

Yet Admiral Rogers said all the SS men had gone through it, and now feltit worth all the pain and disgrace, to be able to do the work they weredoing. 

He had been trained all his life, and especially in Corps school, toscan all available data for and against each problem that arose, andthen make a decision quickly and intelligently. 

He rose to his feet and straightened determinedly. "I'll still take iton, sir, if you and the general staff think I'm worthy and will beuseful. "

The admiral rose swiftly and came around the desk to grasp the cadet'shands in both of his. "I'm proud of you, my boy. It took real strengthof character to make that decision. I'm sure you will never regret it, though there'll be moments when it will hurt to the pit of your soul, especially the first few days. "

The cadet's eyes clouded again, and he shivered convulsively. "Thatpart's got me in a blue funk, no fooling. Do you suppose I can take it, and not give the show away?"

Again the commandant's hearty, friendly laugh boomed out, filling theoffice with merriment and honest pride. "By Snyder, you will, Son, likea thoroughbred!" He went back behind that great desk, and was suddenlyonce more the strict disciplinarian. "Cadet Hanlon, 'ten-shun!" hebarked. 

The young man stood rigid. 

"Raise your right hand. Do you swear before the Infinite Essence touphold, with all your abilities, the Inter-Stellar Corps, and the lawsand decisions of the Federated Planets?"

"On my honor, sir, and with God's help, I pledge allegiance to theInter-Stellar Corps and to the people and governments of all theFederated Planets!"

Hanlon came to a punctilious salute, which Admiral Rogers returned asprecisely before resuming his seat. 

"Senior Lieutenant George Hanlon, at ease. "

He grinned companionably at the young man's start of surprise. "Promotions are swift in the Secret Service, Hanlon. Now, go throughthat door. There you'll meet your immediate superior officer, who willgive you instructions. And Hanlon, my sincerest personal good wishes. Safe flights, Lieutenant. "

"Thank you, sir, for everything. "

Chapter 2

Senior Lieutenant George Hanlon opened the designated door and steppedthrough into the next office. A grey-haired man, wearing the Twin Cometsof a Regional Admiral, was sitting behind a desk, studying some papers. He continued sitting thus, the papers held so they hid his face, apparently so intent on his work he had not noticed anyone entering. 

But Hanlon instinctively knew better, and stood stiffly at attention, awaiting the other's pleasure. Soon the man lowered the papers . . . AndHanlon gasped, "Da. . . ". His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes became swiftly hostile atremembrance of the hate he had carried all these years on account ofthis man. He wanted to stalk out, but ingrained discipline chained himto the spot. His voice, though, was very cold when he spoke. "SeniorLieutenant George Hanlon reporting, sir. "

The big man was a startling older edition of the newly-appointedlieutenant, only grey where the latter was blond, assured from long, bitter experience where the other was as yet untried. Now he rose to hisfeet, acknowledging the salute. 

"At ease. I can imagine your surprise at seeing me, " and if there was ahurt look on his face at sight of that implacable hatred in his son'seyes and demeanor, he could not be blamed. "However, I think yourexperience of the past hour might have prepared you for sight of me inuniform. Yes, " as he saw the sudden surprise in the young man's eyes, "that was the reason for my apparent disgrace. I hope you will forgiveme, now that you know why it was necessary. "

"Of course, " stiffly punctilious, "only, " his eyes were still hard andstormy, "was it important enough to break mother's heart?"

The older man's voice grew soft and shook with genuine emotion. "You andeveryone had to believe that, Spence, all these years. I've beenprayerfully waiting for the day when I could explain to you. I canassure you, Son, " with all the sincerity his voice could carry, "thatshe did not die of a broken . . . "

"I know bet . . . "

"You do not know better!" his father interrupted sternly. "Please waituntil I finish explaining. No, Spence, " his voice was still, emphaticbut softer now, almost pleading. "She knew and approved. Your mother wasone of Earth's greatest heroines. "

Hanlon was still standing stiffly, but now his eyes clouded with mixedemotions, of which doubt predominated. His mind touched that of hisfather, and he seemed to read truth there. But could he believe thisnow . . . After all those dreadful years?

"Actually, " his father was continuing, "your mother had become a victimof multiple sclerosis. When we knew she had less than two months tolive, I talked to her, with the Corps' permission, about my going intoSecret Service work. With her death so near, it could be doneconvincingly. Believing you would understand some day, and approve, sheagreed. I'm terribly sorry for all you've had to suffer during theintervening years. Again I beg forgiveness. "

As his father talked, Hanlon's eyes and heart gradually lost theirhardness, and at the end he ran forward and grasped the other's hands. 

"Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry. I've hated hating you. If it hadn't been for thelong talks Pa and Ma Hanlon had with me, I don't believe I would everhave gone into the cadet school. "

The older man hugged his son hungrily. 

"Believe me, Spence, it wasn't easy for me, either. But I didn'tactually desert you, even though it had to seem so. I know everywhereyou've been, everything you've done. You've been watched overconstantly. I engineered your adoption by the Hanlons--he was a retiredCorpsman, you know--and I've paid your expenses. You see, I happen tolove my son very much. "

"And I loved my Dad so, too. That's why it hurt . . . Say, now I canchange my name back, can't I? The Hanlons both died since I startedcadet school, you know. "

"Well . . . No, for the time being I think not. You're well known as'Hanlon' now, and you'd better leave it that way, for now, at least. However, you'll find need of an alias from time to time in this newjob--you can use it then. I certainly will be proud to have you wearingmy name again. "

But both men were shying away from all this frank expression of theiremotion, and Hanlon dropped back a pace. 

"How does it happen I've never seen you around the buildings or groundshere?"

"No one ever sees me in uniform, except in this or some other Baseoffice on special occasions. Outside, I'm always disguised. When I comeinto a Reservation I'm a bearded janitor or something. You'll soon learnabout disguising, yourself. "

Then he became all business, and his face sobered as he went back to hisdesk. 

"Sit there, Lieutenant. There's a lot to tell you, and you are to paystrict attention and get it all in this one interview, for there can'tbe another at this time. It would attract too much attention for you tobe called here more than this once. "

He smiled again, with a warm, fatherly pride. "First, let mecongratulate you, officially on your decision, and to welcome yousincerely into the Secret Service. "

Hanlon bowed in acknowledgement, then sat down and leaned forwardattentively. "I'll try to get it all, sir. "

"First, the matter of your dismissal. It will come some time within thenext few days, but even I won't know ahead of time when or how it willhappen. Some SS man unknown on Terra will be called in to attend to it. But when it does come you will recognize it almost instantly, and youmust play it up big. Don't let on in any way that you suspect or know itis anything but genuine. You must impress on your fellow students, andupon everyone else you know or later come to know, that it was real, andthat it has soured you for all time on the Corps, and on all law andorder and government. "

The young man nodded, but said nothing, for his throat was clogged andhis spirits quailing at thought of that public disgrace. He had been soproud here . . . How could he possibly stand giving it all up? Maybe hewas a fool ever to have agreed. 

But the admiral was continuing. He shoved a sheaf of bills across thedesk. "Here's a thousand credits. Use them to buy your civilian clothesand kit after your dismissal. Buy a few shares of some stock, too--theamount or value doesn't matter. Get a small insurance policy. Yes, "seeing his son's questioning look, "there's a reason. 

"After you get your clothing and things and have discarded your uniform, go rent a hotel room, then go to the Inter-Stellar bank and rent asafety deposit box. That's one of the first things you do in each cityon any planet to which you may be sent on assignment. Now, here are twokeys that fit box number 1044 in all the I-S banks. They are specialmaster keys of our own designing. Box 1044 is used because of itsnearness to those private booths, in the universal set-up all I-S banksuse. That box is our means of confidential communication. 

"After you get into the vault ostensibly to get into your own box, usethese to open box 1044. There's a little electronic gadget in each box1044. When you want immediate service on anything you put into the box, press the red button on the mechanism. Go back a few hours later and itwill have been attended to. So now, when you get into the bank, put anote there listing your hotel room number and also your new deposit keynumber. Come back in a couple of hours and you'll find a key that willhave your box number stamped on it, but which will open both boxes. Thenleave your old key and one of these in 1044, and carry the other and thenew one. "

"Oh, I see. The stock and insurance policy in my own box are decoys, eh?"

"Right. You put all your reports in box 1044, and get your orders there. We all use 1044, so just sort through the envelopes for any with yourname on them. The same key also locks the sound-proof and spyray-proofcubicle in the vault, so no one, not even another SS man, can interruptyou unless you want to let them in. "

"My own box for decoy; 1044 for service matters; key fits both boxes andcubicles; red button for quick service. Yes, sir. "

"When you get to a new city or planet, put your local address there assoon as feasible. That's your one sure contact. Also, in each box you'llfind quite a lot of money at all times. You take what you need forexpenses and get your salary that way. If your job calls for more thanis in the box at any time, leave a request and press the red button. More will be brought immediately. "

"That's quite a trust, sir, " Hanlon gulped. "I hope I'll always use itwisely. "

His father nodded and smiled. "You will, Spence. We wouldn't have askedyou to join us if we weren't sure. As your father, I'm mighty proud tohave you for a son. As Assistant Chief of the SS, I feel sure you'll bea credit to us. 

"Now, " all business again, "a sleep instructor and some reels of thelanguage and other information about Simonides Four will be delivered toyour hotel room. Simonides Four is your first assignment. There'ssomething fishy going on there we haven't been able to find out about, but we think you can get us some good leads. 

"Don't try to handle it alone--just get us information. And, son, useyour talent for reading minds. I heard over the intercom all you said toRogers, and while that wasn't the only reason you were asked into theSS, believe me, it will be tremendously important in your work withus--it'll help us where no other agent can get to first check station. And I have a feeling, too, that you'll develop both that and many othermental abilities once your mind starts to hit the ball. You'll find inthis work every single talent and ability you can develop will be usefuland needed. "

"Yes, " Hanlon nodded slowly, "I'm beginning to realize that. I'llpractice a lot. "

"As for money, don't be niggardly--spend what you like and always carryquite a bit with you for emergencies. Live well, although notextravagantly unless the occasion of your work demands it. Not to savemoney, but to remain as inconspicuous as possible. "

"The Service has it all thought out, hasn't it?" Admiration shone in theyoung lieutenant's eyes. 

"They've had a lot of years for it, Spence. Now, there's another meansof contact, for cases of emergency. Get word to, or an interview with, any officer of the rank of Rear Admiral or above. The words 'AndromedaSeven' are the passwords to let him know who and what you are. Onceyou've made that contact, commandeer anything or any service needed toassist your work. "

"I understand, sir. " Hanlon strained to review all this new knowledgequickly. Then, "I'm sure I have it all. Get civilian kit; hotel room;stocks and insurance; deposit boxes--my own and 1044; sleep-learnSimonidean; 'Andromeda Seven'. "

"Correct. Now, you'll be interested in a little of the background of theSecret Service. It was John Snyder himself who organized it, shortlyafter the formation of the Snyder Patrol. He realized almost at oncethat such an unknown, undercover echelon would be a must. There'susually not more than two hundred of us. New members are taken in onlyas replacements, or when some Corpsman with a special ability, such asyour mind-reading, is discovered. 

"We work anywhere throughout space when there's a need, but there areusually one or two of us on each planet of the Federation at all times. When not on any special assignment we keep busy on some planet not ouroriginal home, checking the background of cadets or especially-appointedgovernment workers, guarding VIP's, and such other vital matters. Butwhatever we are, or whatever we are doing, we _are_ the Corps!

"We are mighty proud of the fact that no SS man has ever betrayedhis trust, even to save his life. Our work is dangerous in theextreme, but without exception we are all men with high mentalability--quick-thinking, clever, and unusually adept at getting out ofscrapes. " He grimaced mirthlessly. "We learn that last mighty quick inthis business . . . If we last. 

"And to all of us, our dangerous, unadvertised, publicly unrecognizedwork is personally highly satisfying. We know we are the guardians ofthe peace of the Federation, even though we get no hero-worship from thepopulace who don't know we exist. "

Hanlon nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "One thing puzzles me, Dad. You andAdmiral Rogers both spoke about how secret all this is, yet I was giventhe chance to back out after I knew about it. "

His father grinned. "Several have, over the years. They underwenttreatment to erase that knowledge from their mind. " He stood up and camearound the desk to where his son had also risen. "I may not see youagain before you leave, Spence . . . George, I mean, " he smiled ruefully, then brightened. "But the best of luck, son, and keep in mind that youhave the honor of the finest body of men in the Universe in yourkeeping, and always try to be worthy of the trust. "

"I will, sir, " gravely. "It seems almost too much responsibility for acub like me, and I'm scared. But I'll do my best. "

"Take it easy at first. Don't try too much, and don't put yourself inany more danger than you have to until you learn the ropes, which youwill, faster than you may now think. On this assignment, all we ask isthat you try to get us some leads we can work on. "

"Right! I don't want to conk out too soon, now. I've got a lot of livingI want to do first, especially now I've got my dad back again. I surehope we manage to see each other fairly often. "

"Oh, we undoubtedly will, except when one or the other of us is on along job. We'll meet--somewhere--quite often. "

"About this assignment of mine, Dad. Can you give me any dope on it?"

"You'll get what any of us know, from the reels, and the latestdevelopment from the box when you're ready to start out. Oh, yes, Ialmost forgot. The paper we use is a digestible plastic, so make a mealoff all orders and confidential communications you receive. The boxalways contains a supply for your reports or requests for specificinformation or assistance. "

"Saves money on feed bills, eh?"

His father grinned appreciatively, then sobered. "Make sure youunderstand each step you take first, and don't try to run until you knowhow to crawl. Well, safe flights, Spence. "

"Safe flights to you, too, Dad, always. And I want you to know I'm soglad to have all those horrible misunderstandings and hates clearedaway. "

"I missed my boy, too. But 'vast rewards', you know. "

With mixed sensations of high elation and worried fear, theswiftly-maturing young Corpsman walked slowly through the beautiful parkthat surrounded the great stainless-steel skyscraper that housed thecadets during their training period. His thoughts were as twisted aswere the meandering paths and walks he trod so unseeingly. 

Chapter 3

As Hanlon entered his dormitory room, his roommate looked up from hisstudies. 

"What'd the Big Brass Bull want, Han?"

"Huh?" Hanlon snapped out of his abstraction and grinned. "Nothingimportant. You'll be up soon. Just about our first assignments aftergraduation. " He was thinking swiftly. ". . . Uh, I get some extrainstruction in piloting, and a chance at the controls. "

"Gee, I hope they let me work on codes. "

Hanlon shrugged. "They probably will, Dick. They try to fit us where wecan do the most good, Rogers said. " He picked up a book and sat down, apparently studying intently, and young Trowbridge resumed his ownlessons. 

Hanlon began practicing his mind-reading at every opportunity. At firsthe felt sure he would be caught at it, but quickly remembered that, as achild, his victims never suspected they were being mentally invadedunless he told them or acted carelessly upon information so gleaned. 

Yet it had been his naive, boyish pride then, that had made him boast tohis playmates of his ability, and prove it by telling them things he hadlearned about them. All that, naturally, got him into much trouble andnot a few fights, and caused the loss of all his early boyhood friends. That was why he had quit using his wild talent and had been sodetermined never to do so again, as he had first told Admiral Rogers. 

But now he realized he must use it with all the ability and skill hecould acquire. For this mind-reading, whatever of it he could do, wasdecidedly his dish. The SS would be sure to hand him all the jobs whereit might best get them what they needed--if he showed he could produce. 

Yet with his present equipment Hanlon knew he could do little. As he hadalso told the commandant, he couldn't actually read anyone's mind to theextent of getting definite wording or specific information. But he couldget quite clear sensory impressions that helped him deduce what theother person was thinking. 

He had partially learned--and now practiced with all his abilities andgained knowledge and intellect to improve and perfect the technique--togauge the other's looks, glances, facial expressions, muscle movements, sudden tensenesses, and so on. For those, together with themood-impressions and bits of fleeting thoughts, enabled him to knowalmost to a certainty what the other was actually thinking at theobserved time. 

In the barracks, later that first evening, he got into a card game andconcentrated on trying to win by this method. Nor was it consciouslythat he chose a game being played for low stakes--he just wouldn't havethought of trying to win large sums by such "cheating". 

For some time he won consistently and easily. He couldn't know whatcards his opponents held, by suit or number, but he could tell withoutany difficulty whether each of the other players felt he had a poor, medium or good hand. By playing his own accordingly, his wins were fargreater than his losses. After an hour or so of play had proved he coulddo it, and had given him considerable practice, Hanlon closed his mindto their impressions. He now played his cards so recklessly he soon losthis winnings. Then he got out of the game on a plea of having to study. 

The next morning during first class, the door opened and Admiral Rogersentered the classroom. 

"'Ten-shun!" the teacher called, springing to his feet. 

"As you were. I want to borrow one of your young gentlemen for the day, Major. A VIP is in town, and we want to give him an aide. " He lookedabout the room, as though to pick out a likely-looking candidate. "Howabout Cadet Hanlon? Does he especially need today's lesson?"

"Oh, no, sir, he's one of our top students. "

Admiral Rogers looked directly at Hanlon, who had risen to attentionwhen his name was mentioned. "In my office, in full dress uniform, onthe double. "

"Dismiss, Hanlon, " the instructor said, and the cadet ran out. 

In Admiral Rogers' office ten minutes later, Hanlon received hisinstructions. "Report to the Simonidean Embassy and put yourself at thedisposal of Hector Abrams, First Secretary to the Simonidean PrimeMinister. But first, hang this stuff on you. This dress sword is alittle unusual--the scabbard is rounder than yours, but not noticeablyso. It's really a blaster; the trigger is here on the handle as yougrasp it. Put on these aide's aguillettes--the metal tips are policewhistles. No, " seeing Hanlon's questioning look, "we don't expect anytrouble today--these are just routine, for we like to be ready foremergencies. "

Hanlon fastened the braided cords to his shoulder tabs, and belted onthe twenty-inch-long blaster-sword. The admiral touched a switch on hisdesk and spoke into a microphone. "My personal car to take Cadet Hanlonto the Simonidean Embassy, then return. "

At the Embassy, Hanlon reported to the receptionist, and was shown withdue deference into one of the private offices, where he was introducedto several men, among them the Secretary he was to accompany. 

"I have a number of errands to do today, but the first and mostimportant is laying the cornerstone of our new Embassy building--thisone is merely rented, you may know. "

"I am entirely at your disposal, sir, " Hanlon saluted crisply, and fellinto step just behind the portly statesman as he left the building. 

They rode in an open car with a uniformed chauffeur, the othersfollowing in other cars. As they rode Hanlon probed the statesman'smind, but found only worry-tension, that he shrewdly guessed had to dowith the coming speech, rather than with any thought of intrigue orillegal machination. 

As they came into the Greek section of the city, their ride took on moreand more the aspects of a parade, as the Simonidean was recognized. 

Hanlon opened his mind wide and attempted to analyze thethought-sensations he received from the crowds. It was one of gaiety andgood nature, and reminded him of the way his boyish mind interpreted thethoughts of holiday crowds at the circus, Fourth of July celebrations, picnics, and so on. 

From the moment he first entered the Embassy, Hanlon had been probingwith every iota of his ability, hoping he could find some lead towhatever it was that was bothering the Corps about Simonides, but hadfound nothing sinister or menacing, nor could he get any such sensationsfrom the crowd. 

But now he concentrated more on watching the increasingly denser throngof people, for the car was nearing their destination. The buildingsalong here were all bedecked with Simonidean and Greek-Terran flags, andthere was now a continuous cheering from the populace. Abrams wasstanding in the back of the car now, smilingly acknowledging theirplaudits by bowing to one side and the other. 

Hanlon, sitting stiffly at attention, nevertheless kept his eyes dartinghere and there, watching as carefully as he could for any possiblehostile demonstrations or menacing figures. 

Arrived at the building site, Abrams was greeted by numerousdignitaries, and escorted with much pomp to the flag-bedecked stand, amid greater cheering from the assembled crowd. 

The chairman of the occasion stepped to the public-address microphone, and raised his hands for silence. The band broke off in the middle of anumber, the cheering from the huge throng gradually died down, and theceremony got under way. 

Hanlon, who had taken his post at one corner of the platform, paid scantattention to what was happening on it, as it neither interested him norcould he understand too much of it, even though he knew quite a bit ofGreek. Again his eyes were busy continually looking all about the greatcrowd and the surroundings. 

Nothing of note occurred until the chairman began introducing Abrams, and then hecklers in the crowd began shouting:

"Freedom for the Greeks of Simonides!"

"Empires are out of date; let the people rule!"

"Demos forever!"

These calls were few at first, but the men yelling them wereleather-lunged. The chairman's face turned reddish, and he wavered a bitin his speech, then raised his own voice in an attempt to drown out theinterruptions. 

Others were now crying out, though still only a few, but in spite oftheir shouts the ceremonies continued, and Abrams, properly introduced, rose and began his prepared speech. 

Hanlon, more alert than ever, could see local police shoving through thecrowd, trying to apprehend and silence the hecklers. But from hisvantage point Hanlon saw the latter shifting rapidly from place toplace, partly to escape detection, he swiftly deduced, and partly tomake it seem as though more and more people were joining in thedemonstration. 

In a side glance Hanlon saw that the Secretary was nettled at thedisturbance, and his color was high although he bravely continuedspeaking. The great audience was largely paying attention to him, andmust have found him interesting, from their frequent cheers. 

Suddenly, at one side, there seemed to be a more determineddemonstration, and Hanlon tore his gaze from it, remembering hisinstructor's words:

"Disregard specific diversions in one spot! Let the police handlethose--you must watch most carefully then for assassins!"

Instantly he was more alert, more carefully scanning the whole scenebefore him, his eyes travelling forth and back. 

A glint of reflected sunlight from a nearby roof jerked his eyes upward, and at what he saw, with one swift, smooth motion he drew hisblaster-sword, sighted carefully, and pressed the trigger. 

There was a crack of flame, and a gunman half-hidden behind a chimneyscreamed, half-rose, then, his body charred by the force of that blast, toppled from the roof into the street below, his rifle falling near him. Hanlon swivelled. "Cover Abrams!" his voice rang out commandingly, andhe himself jumped in front of the Secretary while others on the platformsprang up to completely surround the Simonidean, and hide him frompossible further danger. 

Hanlon raised one of the tassel-whistles and blew a piercing blast. Nowhe could see several local policemen running toward the platform, and inmoments Abrams, surrounded by an armed and alert escort, was hustledinto a waiting police car, which sped back to the Embassy. 

The Simonidean was white and shaking, upset by the episode. 

"Why?" he kept asking, but no one had any answers. "I'm not importantenough for anyone to want to kill, " Abrams shook his head. "The peopleof Simonides like the empire status--why should anyone here on Terraobject?"

"There's always crackpots in every crowd, " a police captain said. "Weget riots like this one almost every time there's a public ceremony. Most of 'em're plain nuts--once in a while only is there one who feelshe's got a real grievance, personal. "

"But with so many participating, this one looked planned, " Hanlonobjected. "I was higher and watching, and I could see at least a dozenmen shouting at the beginning, starting all at the same time, although alot more took it up. It must have been a plot of some kind. "

His mind was racing. Was this part of what he was being sent toSimonides to investigate? He had tried to probe the crowd minds, butthere were so many conflicting thought-emanations, such a welter ofsensations he wasn't able to isolate any single, individual moods orthoughts. 

Safely back inside the Embassy, Abrams seemed to relax a bit. He turnednow to Hanlon. 

"My very sincere thanks, young man, for your quickness and alertness insaving my life. I shall be eternally grateful. "

Hanlon waved his hand deprecatingly. "It was my job, sir. I'm sorry yourday was spoiled that way. "

"I still can't make out why?" The Simonidean said slowly, and Hanlon, probing, could sense that his mind was full of question marks. "I'm notthat important. If it had been the emperor"--Hanlon caught an impressionof loyalty and love for that dignitary--"or even the Minister"--here hecaught a feeling of doubt and some dislike--"it might make sense. Justas I cannot figure out why I should have been sent here for thispurpose. It's almost . . . " he was silent, and Hanlon's probes found onlypuzzlement. 

"Nuts!" the young Corpsman felt frustrated. "If only I could really readminds! I think this guy knows something I want to learn, but I can't getthe least idea of what it is. "

But he kept trying, and not only with the mind of this one man he hadbeen sent here to guard. He reached out to all other minds in the room, but none of them seemed to have any thoughts about the why of thisunexpected happenstance. There were mostly feelings of anger that theirbeautiful new Embassy building had not been properly dedicated, andtheir ceremony ruined. 

Abrams had sunk into a chair, and it soon became apparent to Hanlon thathe wasn't planning on handling any of his other outside errands thatday. 

"Will you want me any more, sir?" he finally asked after a considerableperiod of uneasy fidgetting. The Simonidean broke out of hisabstraction, and rose to his feet. 

"No, I shall stay here for the balance of the day at least. You may aswell return to your other duties. Again, thank you, personally, forsaving my life, and please express my thanks to the Corps for sendingyou. But I still can't understand . . . " He turned away, muttering. 

Hanlon saluted the other members of the Embassy staff, and rode theslideways back to Base, reporting to Admiral Rogers, to whom he gave afull and concise account of all that had happened. 

"Whatever Mr. Abrams and the police may think, I still believe it wasall carefully planned, " he concluded thoughtfully. "It wasn't just oneman, for I could see at least a dozen. Though, of course, " he addedquickly, "one man may have been behind it. "

"Undoubtedly, " the admiral said. "There was the chance of something likethis, which is why I picked you for the job, hoping you could get someleads from it. "

"I told you I couldn't read specific thoughts or information, " Hanlonsaid. "If you and the top brass picked me for the SS because you thoughtI could, you'd better release me from it. I can't work in a crowd atall, for there's such a jumble of thought-emanations I can't separatethem. Even working with an individual I can only sense something of hisfeelings. Just as now, " he grinned mirthlessly, "you're disappointedbecause I didn't get any data, and thinking my so-called mind-reading isall a fake. "

The admiral almost jumped. "Why, I am not . . . , " then he lookedsurprised, and laughed. "By Snyder, I was, too!" He sobered. "But if youcan do that, even if you can't actually read the words of the thought, you'll still be able to help, I'm sure. No, you keep on studying. I'llbet you'll be able to do a lot more before long. "

"I sure hope so, " Hanlon slowly unfastened the aiguellettes and removedthe sword and belt, laying them on the corner of the big desk. At touchof that weapon he suddenly realized what he had done with it, andshuddered, while his face grew white and strained. 

"What's the matter?" the admiral asked anxiously. 

"I . . . Killed . . . A . . . Man, " Hanlon trembled. 

"No! You killed a snake!" Admiral Rogers laid his arm comfortingly aboutthe younger man's shoulders. "It isn't the same at all. Don't let itbother you. "

Hanlon tried manfully to rise from his dark mood. "You're right, in away, sir, and I'll try to look at it that way. As to the mind-reading, I'll keep on trying, and I hope I can prove of some use. "

The admiral patted his shoulder encouragingly. "You will. Dismiss. "

Chapter 4

The cadets were all keyed up about graduation, now so near, and most ofthem were cramming at every opportunity on the subjects in which theyfelt themselves deficient. Such tenseness is natural before any finalexaminations, but in their case more so than it would have been in anordinary school or university. 

For not until the final marks were posted from these last examinations, plus their marks for the entire five years, would any of them--exceptHanlon, of course--know for a surety that he would be graduated andbecome a permanent member of the Inter-Stellar Corps. And how intenselyeach of them wanted to belong!

Four days had now passed since George Hanlon's fateful interview withthe Commandant of Cadets, and its unexpected outcome. He could hardlybelieve, even yet, that he was now actually a member of the unknownSecret Service of the Corps. 

Only the great inner joy he knew at the recovery of his once-adored dad, and the complete dismissal of all those black hatreds, gave proof thatit wasn't all a fantastic dream. 

Hanlon hadn't experienced anything unusual in the cadet routine, and wasgrowing more and more nervous as to just what was to happen to him. Hestill shivered every time he thought of that coming, dreaded ordeal. Andall this waiting, this worrying, this wondering when--it wasn't makinglife any easier. If only they would get it over and done with!

But he strove to compose himself for it as best he could, and it was ameasure of his inherent stability that he never let his comrades, evenhis roommate, see how apprehensive he was. 

Now the day had come for the first of their finals. Hanlon never worriedabout exams, for he had always been near the top of his class. Now, especially, since he was already graduated and a Senior Lieutenant, hecould have taken things easily. But pride in his scholarship made himanxious as always to do his best. 

Their first examination was History, one of Hanlon's pet subjects, forhe loved this story of Mankind, his ups and downs and gradual growth. 

When the examination papers were handed out and he noted the firstquestion he smiled. If only they were all that easy. 

 _"Give briefly a resume of the events leading up to the formation of the Inter-Stellar Corps. "_

Hanlon uncapped his writo, and began:

"In the middle of the Twentieth Century the various governments of Earthwere all tending toward either a totalitarian or a welfare-form state. More and more power became vested in the Executive branch; more and morecitizens were either working directly for government, or were supportedby relief funds. Business was, to an increasingly greater extent, stifled by over-control. Public debts became a staggering load, andworkers had less and less of their income available for living needs. 

"When atomic energy was first released by the United States, in the formof a bomb during a war, the military took complete control of it. Neither private nor industrial scientists or technicians were allowed toexperiment with possibilities of getting power directly from atomicfission. 

"In 1958 a young man named Travis Burkett was elected to the UnitedStates Congress from California. During his four terms as member of theLower House he became increasingly well-known as possessor of one of thefinest minds in public life. In 1966 he was advanced to the Senate, andsoon became its leading member. 

"In 1976 (prophetic year) he ran for President on the simple platform of'give the country back to the people'. His ideas and views so fired theminds and hopes of the citizens of America, regimented and ground downby the cancerous growth of bureaucracy, that even most of thebureaucrats and reliefers joined to elect him by one of the greatestpluralities ever polled. 

"During his two terms of office, with the help of a Cabinet of men whobelieved as he did, he fulfilled his promises. The tremendous power ofthe Executive was gradually returned to the Legislative, where itbelonged. Unnecessary, over-lapping, and duplicated bureaus and agencieswere reduced to the minimum. Only persons actually in need weresupported from the public purse. Where almost 80% of the citizenry hadbeen working for or supported by government when he took office, lessthan 15% were doing so when he retired. 

"Tax restrictions and governmental meddling in industry and businesswere reduced save for a few necessary safe-guards of minimum-wage andmaximum-safety laws. With these restrictions removed, and with controlof so many vital sciences and technologies taken away from the military, inventions took an accelerated up-swing. 

"The peoples of other countries, fired by the realization of what couldbe done, staged revolutions, happily largely bloodless, and soon, working through the United Nations Council, a United World governmentbecame an actuality, and Burkett one of its first presidents. 

"An American named John Snyder had, years before, secretly worked out asimple and inexpensive method of obtaining practically unlimited powerdirectly from atomic fission. Now he could legally bring this to thepublic, and soon homes, public transportation and industry were usinghis power method. 

"Snyder attracted to him a group of gifted scientists and technicians. These now turned their attention to space flight and Man, theInsatiable, began stretching out greedy hands to the Stars. 

"They put a robot rocket on the Moon in less than two years. Their thirdrocket carried two scientists who did not make the return trip--theystayed to study and to learn. Five years later the first ship landed onMars, and within a decade that planet was largely colonized. So, twoyears later, was Venus. Another fifteen years saw colonization of mostof the moons of the outer planets. 

"For, using new techniques and inventions learned from many experiments, the moons and planets were given air, water and warmth as needed. Android robots, developed by Varney, one of Snyder's scientists, helpedgreatly in this work, especially one young female android who was a truegenius. 

"Then Man reached the Stars . . . And the planets of those distant suns. It was here that the now-aged Snyder proved himself again one of thegreatest humanitarians ever to have lived. He promulgated the rulingthat is still in force:

 _"'Man must never colonize any planet having inhabitants intelligent enough to show cultural activity and growth'. _

"Controlling all means of transportation between planets as he did, because he held all the basic patents, Snyder was able to enforce thatruling. To do so, he organized the 'Snyder Patrol', which later wastaken over by the Federated Planets when that organization was formed, and became today's Inter-Stellar Corps. 

"Today there are fifty-seven planets colonized by former inhabitants ofTellus or their descendants from colonized planets. These each havetheir own sovereignty and chosen form of government, but are united in aloosely-knit Federation which is solely a Court of Arbitration forInter-Planetary affairs. The I-S C is the Federation's Investigation andEnforcement branch, not a governing or military patrol. "

Hanlon had finished that question and the second, which asked for thedates of the war between the colonists of Mars and those of the Joviansatellites. He was resting his eyes by glancing unseeingly about theroom momentarily before starting the third question, when he heard theloud, angry voice of the instructor in charge. 

"Cadet Hanlon, on your feet, sir! Just how, Mister, do you think you canget away with cheating at a final examination?"

Hanlon's head jerked up and his face went dead-white as the blooddrained from it. He stumbled to his feet and, conscious of the amazedexpressions of his classmates, looked up at the teacher. 

"Bu . . . But I don't understand, sir. I wasn't cheating. "

"Don't lie to me!" the voice was a whiplash. "I distinctly saw youlooking at Cadet Fox's paper. The idea of any cadet, this close tograduation, trying such a contemptible thing!"

Hanlon's bewilderment was changing to anger at such an unjustaccusation, when suddenly a thought struck him . . . 

_This was it!_

Cheating at examinations always meant expulsion and disgrace. 

He had all he could do to keep from betraying himself as he probedquickly toward the mind on the rostrum. Now he perceived the feeling ofcommiseration which the stern, hot eyes of the apparently outragedinstructor did not reveal. 

Hanlon remembered his father's instructions to "play it up big". He madehimself glare back at the teacher, and his blue eyes took on thehardness of glacial ice. 

"You're making a colossal mistake, sir, " his voice was louder andangrier than it should ever have been. "If our regular instructor wasgiving this exam he'd never make such an accusation. I've led this classin grades all through school. And not by cheating, either. "

"Lower your voice, Mister, and don't talk back!" But Hanlon'smind-probing was receiving approbation now. "I saw you cheating, and Iknow what I saw. Do you want to resign, or will you force me to take youto the commandant?"

"I don't know who you are, but you're a stupid fool!" Hanlon apparentlylost all control of himself, and his voice and red face showed the angerhe was simulating so well. "If you think you're going to frame me out ofthis class and out of graduating, you're a confounded idiot! Ask any ofthese chaps here--they all know I'm not a cheat. "

But the cadets, though puzzled and dismayed, were far too clever to getmixed up in this unexpected brawl. They all sat, eyes lowered but facesstraight ahead, arms folded across their chests, having no part in it atall. 

The examining instructor, a man much larger and heavier than Hanlon'sfive feet eleven inches and one hundred and seventy-five pounds, rusheddown from the platform. He grabbed at the cadet's arms, but Hanlonswivelled away, then stepped back in and struck at the officer. 

That was mutiny! It was unthinkable for a cadet to strike an officer, under any circumstances or provocation. 

The teacher, however, snared the cadet in a neo-judo hold that noneophyte, however skilled or strong could break. He dragged thestruggling Hanlon up to the rostrum and, with his elbow, activated theintercom. 

"Ask the commandant to come to room 12-B. A cadet, caught cheating atexaminations, has mutinied. "

Still holding the struggling, angry Hanlon, the instructor-officerexcoriated his victim for such breach of cadet honor. Hanlon, meanwhile, yelled insults and oaths. He twisted and squirmed as though trying toescape, although he had quickly realized he was now being held in aloose though apparently-valid grip he could have broken easily had he sodesired. 

Yet during all this Hanlon was receiving from the officer's mind thedistinct impression that the latter hated what he was doing, yet wasapproving the way the new SS man was playing his part. Further, Hanlonsensed he was being welcomed into the fellowship of those unknown SS mento whom he was now brother. 

Soon Admiral Rogers, followed by two hulking space marines, came runninginto the room. 

"What's going on here?" he barked. 

Quickly the teacher repeated his charges, while Hanlon yelled denialsand vituperations at the moronic imbecile who dared accuse him of suchtreachery. 

"I'm ashamed of you, Hanlon!" the admiral said coldly. "We had highhopes for you, as I told you when I interviewed you about your initialassignment. "

"Then why don't you listen to me instead of taking the word of thisslime-snake who calls himself an instructor? Bah! He oughta be diggingditches!"

"That'll do!" Disgust showed on the admiral's face as he gestured to themarines, who jumped forward and grabbed Hanlon's arms, twisting thembehind his back and handcuffing them. 

"George Hanlon, you are hereby officially dismissed from theInter-Stellar Corps' Cadet School!"

So saying, Admiral Rogers ripped all identifying symbols from Hanlon'suniform, then turned again to the marines. "Take him outside theReservation. "

They hauled Hanlon, still shrieking and cursing, out of the room, out ofthe building, across the park, and to the gate of the Corps' property. 

There his handcuffs were removed, and the sneering marines literally andnot-too-gently booted him into the street, where he sprawled facedownward in a muddy puddle. 

Hanlon pulled himself erect, apparently mad clear through. He shook hisfist at the grinning marines gathered just inside the gate. He cursedthem fluently with every foul oath and name he could remember everhaving heard. Innately clean of speech and thought, this swearing nearlygagged him. But he was "putting on a good act. "

They stood his insults for some time, but when he began to get toopersonal, a couple of them started toward him, their mocking laughtergone. To "make his act better, " Hanlon now pretended to be frightened, cowardly, and accompanied by the jeers of the civilian on-lookers whohad quickly congregated to see what all the rumpus was about, he fleddown the city street away from the Reservation. 

At first opportunity, after he had outdistanced his pursuers, Hanlonducked into an alley. He ran down this until he spotted the back door ofa little cafe, and dodged inside. There, in the washroom, he cleanedhimself as best he could. 

Again somewhat presentable, he left by the front door and rode theslideways to a section of the city where he could buy some good but nottoo expensive clothing. 

Now inconspicuously dressed, he got a hotel room, then went to the bankwhere he bought some shares of stock, arranged for insurance, and renteda deposit box. 

Chapter 5

In the hotel room assigned him, George Hanlon threw himself on the bedand for an hour lay there reviewing this sudden, strange turn of events, and all it presaged. He tried in vain to thrust out of his mind theastonished consternation of his classmates, the sneers of the marinesand the jeers of the civilians there at the gate, who had seen hisdisgrace. Almost in tears now, he realized at last this was but aprelude to years of being scorned and vilified as a despised outcast. 

Finally he calmed a bit, then got up to pace the room, wondering whatthe next move would be. The answer came almost at once. A rap on thedoor disclosed a messenger with a package for him. On opening it, afterthe man had gone, Hanlon found the sleep-instructor and reels. On topwas a smaller reel marked, "No. 1. Listen to this awake. "

He plugged in the machine, and put on the reel. It was his father'svoice. 

"You've got this far, now begins your real work. You should be able tomemorize the contents of these reels in two weeks. Briefly, here is whatthey contain. Simonides Four was colonized under the direction of aGreek merchant who gave it his name. Four is the only habitable planet. Most of the original inhabitants under him were of his nationality, andthe present language is an outgrowth of modern Greek, which you knowsomewhat. There are now, of course, many variations and new words, termspeculiar to their growing and evolving culture. The reels give all thismore fully. 

"The last reel tells their history, geography and economic situation asof today. Also, details about their various large cities, especially NewAthens, their capitol. We believe you will find that city the best placeto start your investigations. When you have these reels memorized, go tothe bank, get your final instructions from the box, and your money forthe trip. 

"As to the problem, again briefly this is it: In the past year or soFederation agents have sensed a movement there, but have not been ableto interpret it. Whatever it is, it is very, very secret--the agentscan't even tell if it is political, religious, or merely social. Also, they have discovered that many important men, as well as dozens--maybehundreds--of less important men, have mysteriously disappeared. All thishas the smell of trouble for the Federation. 

"At last the Secret Service was called in. We sent first one man, then asecond. They tried to 'bore from within' by joining whatever themovement was. But they haven't been able to get even a start--they'vehit it and bounced. The second is still there, still trying. 

"As a matter of fact, we have no evidence at all, merely a sort of'hunch', or presentiment, of a plot against the peace and welfare of theFederated Planets. There may be nothing wrong at all, but we don't liketo take chances. With your ability to read minds you may be able to findout. We hope so. "

Hanlon thought the message was ended, but then the voice began again. "Iwas told you came through your disgrace-scene very well. I know justwhat you are undoubtedly feeling at the moment, Spence--how sick atheart you are--and I only wish there was some way of easing your pain. But it will pass. 

"Good luck, son, and safe flights. Take care of yourself. We're allbehind you, and by the devious ways you know you can call on any or allof us at need. These reels are all water soluble, so dissolve them inthe washbowl and flush down the drain as soon as you're through witheach. "

 * * * * *

For the next two weeks Hanlon stayed fairly close to his room, studyingby day from books obtained at the library the things he was learning atnight via the sleep-instructor. 

The evening of Graduation Day he sat miserably in front of a videoscreen in his room, watching the broadcast of the stately ceremony ofwhich he would have been a part but for his decision to join the SecretService. 

All the longings of the years he had wanted to become a part of theInter-Stellar Corps; all the hopes and plans he had made during his fivelong years in cadet school; all the thrilling pride he had known that hewas to be a part of the greatest organization in the Universe, swelledinside him and choked him. 

When, at long last, the class rose to take the Oath of Allegiance, Hanlon found himself on his feet, rigidly at attention, repeating theimpressive ritual aloud with them. 

Now, for the first time, despite his decision and his privategraduation, he truly felt himself a vital part of the Corps. 

 * * * * *

On the street on his way to the library the following day, Hanlonchanced to meet a small group of his former classmates, now clad intheir brand-new dress uniforms of sky-blue and crimson, their new juniorlieutenant's bars shining brightly. 

"Hi, fellows!" he greeted them, only to be met by silent glares ofcontempt. 

"Aw, look, fellows, you know I was framed, " Hanlon planted himself infront of them, and made himself look hurt, nor was that any effort. Thisreally cut deep. But he had to "play it out"; had to make them keep onthinking his disgrace was real. 

"You guys know I'd never do anything like that, " he continuedplaintively. "I didn't cheat--didn't need to. I know I lost my head whenhe accused me, but anyone'd do that. "

"You mean you were never caught cheating before, " Trowbridge sneered. "You sure had me . . . Us . . . All fooled. Now scram, or else. . . . " Hedoubled his fists and took a step toward Hanlon. 

The latter still played out his string, but his heart was sick. He likedthe fellows--they had been among his best friends for five long, happyyears. Only now was he truly beginning to realize what a tremendousprice he was paying . . . And would have to pay all his life. 

He stepped in and swung . . . And was instantly the target for flyingfists. He was knocked down several times, but always managed to get upagain. He had been well trained in fighting of all types--and now he wasputting all his knowledge and skill into use--but only for defense andthe pretense of attack. 

Even so he was getting badly mauled, for they were as well trained--andwere five to his one. His clothes were dirty and ripped from theknock-downs, and a button was torn off his coat. His knuckles wereskinned, and he could feel that his face was becoming a mass of bruises. A hard left connected with his mouth, and he spat out a broken tooth. 

"'Ten-shun!" a commanding voice suddenly broke in. 

Instantly the five Corpsmen jumped back and, so ingrained was thetraining he had received, so did Hanlon, to come at salute as they saw aHigh Admiral climbing out of a ground-cab at the curb. 

Hanlon, instantly realizing he wasn't in uniform and was supposedly adischarged Corpsman, quickly dropped his salute and slouchedtruculently. 

"What's going on here!" the officer asked icily. 

"This man's a disgraced cadet, sir. Cheated on final exams, " one of themexplained. "He tried to talk to us. "

"It's a lousy lie!" Hanlon rasped. "I was framed. The Corps. Paugh!" hespat in pretend disgust. "I'm getting out of here just as damned quickas I can, and as far as I can. I'll go clear to Andromeda Seven if I canraise enough credits!"

Only he, apparently saw the minute widening of the admiral's eyes atthat code-word. The officer faced the new lieutenants sternly. 

"A Corpsman is supposed to be able to handle five civilians, not fiveCorpsmen to one. If this man is a disgraced cadet, you have a right tofeel as you do about him. But leave him alone--the years will bring himmore sorrow and pain than you can with your fists. And you, fellow, "turning to Hanlon. "Don't think I'm interfering just to save yourworthless skin, " his tone was one of utmost contempt. "I just don't wantCorpsmen fighting on the street. Dismiss. "

The five saluted smartly and marched away. The admiral winked brieflyand with respect at Hanlon before reentering his cab. 

But as the young man hurried back to his hotel to clean up, he washeartsick, remembering the many, many months of pleasant companionshipwith those boys. Especially Dick Trowbridge, who had been his roommateand special chum all through cadet school, and who today had seemedparticularly disgusted and vicious in that fight. 

Giving up all that had made life so happy and wonderful was more than afellow could bear, his bitter thoughts ran. What a fool he had been tolet himself be talked into taking this on. Where were all those "vastrewards" his dad and Admiral Rogers had talked about so eloquently? Howcould anything possibly make up for losing the respect and friendship ofeveryone he had ever known?

However, he had to admit, though still doubtfully, Dad had gone throughit even to the point of giving up his son, and those last few weeks withhis adored wife, yet now seemed satisfied and content. Maybe . . . Maybethere was something behind it all, that time would prove. But it wasmighty hard to take, just the same. 

And this throbbing toothache didn't help his feelings any, either. Theexposed nerve in that broken tooth made it ache like blazes. He'd betterget it fixed before it drove him mad. 

He started to go out, then stopped with the realization he had no moneyof his own to pay a dentist for the extraction and a bridge. 

"What do I do in a case like this?" he wondered. "Is it ethical in sucha purely personal matter, to use Corps funds? Dad didn't mention thingsof this sort. On the other hand, he said we got our salaries andexpenses that way. Besides, you could say I lost the tooth in line ofduty, and the Corps should replace it. "

He went on, found a dentist and had the work done. Nor did he everagain feel doubt about spending the Corps' money for things he actuallyneeded . . . But neither did he ever spend any on purely personal pleasuresor extra comforts save as he needed to do so to play up to whateverposition he assumed in the prosecution of his various assignments. 

Evening, however, found him still with that smothered feeling ofself-pity about his fight with the fellows, and it persisted even afterhe went to bed. By the Shade of Snyder, it wasn't fair to saddle a thinglike this on a mere kid. 

It wasn't until after a couple of hours of tossing sleeplessness that heremembered he hadn't turned on the sleep-instructor. Half-rebelliously, he nevertheless got up and did so . . . And that little act broke hismood. He dropped asleep almost immediately after returning to bed. 

At the end of the two weeks Hanlon felt he knew both the Simonideanlanguage and its customs well enough to start working. He went to thebank and, deviously, to box 1044. 

Sorting through a thick sheaf of envelopes he found one with his name onit. He took it to one of the cubicles, whose door he locked from theinside, setting up full coverage. 

As he read there flashed through his mind the background of this otherplanet's situation. From his knowledge of politico-history within theFederation he knew there was an iron-clad agreement that each planetcould choose its own form of government. Most of them chose thedemocratic form, but some had a type of fascistic state. One or two--themost advanced--even had an anarchistic state, with a very minimum oflaws and governing. 

Simonides had, about a century earlier, reverted to the empirestatus--the only planet within the Federation to do so. It hadoriginally been colonized as a world-wide republic, but later had brokenup into five independent countries, as different sections becamepopulated more heavily with people of other national backgrounds thanGreek. These five countries had eventually been recombined, after aspectacular coup, as an empire. 

Then had come this belief of the Corps that something was brewing therethat would affect the peace of the Federation, and the failure of theiragents so far to find out about it. 

Now SSM Hanlon's orders were to take ship to Simonides Four, and seek tolearn what he could about these guessed-at conditions as swiftly aspossible. If he gained any impressions of who or what group was behindthis movement, he was to attempt to join it and ferret out that secretso it could be reported. 

With such information in their possession, the Corps would know if itwas anything inimical to the peace and security of the Federation, andwould take the necessary steps. 

His instructions ended, "The cost of a first class ticket to Simonidesis seven hundred and fifty credits, so you should draw enough to have atleast fifteen hundred, for all needed expenses. Take the '_Hellene_'which leaves Centropolis spaceport Friday of this week. We have goodreason to believe that certain interesting people will be aboard thatship. "

Hanlon's mind raced. Evidently someone wanted him to see whatimpressions or evidence he could pick up from those suspected persons. He grimaced as he realized the SS had left it strictly up to him todiscover who those "interesting people" were. Perhaps they looked on itas a sort of test. 

But he thrilled to the sudden awareness of what a wonderfully efficientand competent organization the SS was--how it kept careful watch on allits members, and assisted them in every possible manner. 

He "dined" on the edible plastic sheets, then left the safety depositvault. He arranged for his ticket and reservations at the bank's travelagency, then went back to his hotel to pack. 

Chapter 6

So it was that early Friday morning George Hanlon, still dressed incivvies, of course, arrived at the great passenger liner that was totake him to far Simonides. He was thrilled with the idea of making sucha trip, for he loved the deeps of space--its immensity and itsfathomless mystery gripped him with a feeling of grandeur. 

Yet he had never been far outside the Solar system. The latter was notnecessary on his training cruises, since all the details of a pilot'sjob--the branch of the Service he had hoped to enter--were the same forboth inter-planetary and inter-stellar travel. It was the navigator'sjob that was the harder and more complicated on the longer, faster tripsto destinations one could not see when blasting off. 

This "_Hellene_" on which he was to ride was about sixty-five feet indiameter and approximately three times that in length. The propulsionwas, the builders and engineers acknowledged, not the ultimate by anymeans. They were still constantly experimenting and hoping for muchswifter travel. Still, they did pretty well. 

They had some measure of anti-gravity to help lift the ship from aplanet. About 22%, Hanlon remembered. They still had to use rockets whennear a planet--but these present-day rockets were a far cry from theearly crude ones with which Snyder and his men had put first ships onthe Moon and planets. These could deliver a thrust far more powerfulthan those early ones. 

For long distances they used a type of "warping" that made the ship"skip" along the lines of force that permeate all space. Hanlon hadnever quite got it firmly fixed in his mind just how this was done, especially the technique of the engines that made it possible. That was"advanced stuff" that the cadets were not taught in their regularcourses--it was Post Graduate work for those who were to becomeEngineering Masters. 

As he went up the escalator into the ship Hanlon was met at the outerlock by a deck steward who led him toward the level where his cabin waslocated. 

This was Hanlon's first time aboard one of these luxury liners--howdifferent the deep-piled rugs, the magnificently frescoed passagewaywalls, the deeply upholstered furniture, from the utilitarian plainnessof the Corps' warships on which he had made his practice cruises. 

"As you may know, sir, " the steward said as they walked along, "there isneither night nor day in space, but we use Terran time on the ship, andlights are turned on and off to conform to the regular Terran day. Breakfast is served from seven to nine, luncheon from twelve tofourteen, and dinner from eighteen to twenty-one. "

"Thanks. " A credit note changed from hand to hand--tipping was still instyle. The obsequious steward gave him further directions for findingthe games and recreational rooms, and other points of interest aboard. 

Hanlon unpacked, and stored his luggage in the compact closets and then, having heard the first and second warnings, hastened to the observationdesk, to watch the take-off. He had barely reached it and been strappedinto the acceleration chair turned to face the long, narrow quartziteport, when the blast-off sirens began screaming their third and finalwarning. 

The intra-ship communicators blared, "All passengers andpersonnel strap in. Five minutes until blast-off . . . Fourminutes . . . Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Thirty seconds . . . Fifteen . . . Ten . . . Five, four, three, two, one, BLAST!"

Dimly heard through the insulated hull was what Hanlon knew to be atremendous crescendo roar of sound, and he was pushed deep into theresilient spring-cushions of his chair. A constricting band seemed to beclamped on his chest, while at the same time there was a curious feelingthat he should weigh less but didn't. That was the peculiar sensationthe combination of anti-gravity and the thrust of the rockers alwaysgave. 

From experience he knew how to regulate his breathing and to let hismuscles and nerves relax as much as possible, so that for him there wasbut a brief moment of discomfort. Then he was able to watch the sceneunfolding before and below him. 

The ground and that outward splash of almost-intolerable flame quicklydropped away and within minutes the scene expanded until he was able tosee hundreds of square miles of city, country and ocean. Soon he couldsee the distant mountains; but gradually the scene assumed a dimness ofdetail that persisted until they were far outside the atmosphere. Thenthe great continental masses became visible as a whole, but without anysmaller details apparent. 

Two and a half hours later they were past the Moon, and began buildingup the tremendous speed that was to take them across inter-stellardepths in a matter of short days. And as Luna shrank to a small spherebehind them, Hanlon felt the acceleration grow constant, so unstrappedhimself and got up. He stretched hugely, to relieve the cramped feelingin his muscles, then turned to survey his fellow passengers. 

He noticed several men in Corps' uniform, and hoped none of them knewhim--or if so, would be good enough not to spread word of his disgrace. That would make the trip uncomfortable, lonely and unproductive, forthen it would be better for him to spend most of his time in hisstateroom. He thought of those "interesting people" he had been toldabout . . . Whatever that tip might mean. 

For George Hanlon, youngest man ever to be assigned to the Inter-StellarCorps' Secret Service--although he did not know this until later--hadthat within him which placed matters of duty uppermost in his mind atall times. 

Accustomed for nearly half of his life to the conscious task of keepinghis mind-reading talent hidden and unused, he now knew he must work atit continuously to bring it up to its highest possible level ofefficiency. Only by thus knowing every facet of his ability could he dowhat had to be done in his new task. 

He sat down again and closed his eyes in order better to study thisproblem without outside and extraneous matters interfering. He becameawed and a little frightened as he realized fully the weight of his newduties and responsibilities, even though he had been all through thisseveral times before. Somehow, his being aboard ship on his way to hisactual work seemed to make this terrific responsibility more weighty. 

Why must he be burdened with such a load as they had tied onto him? Whatwere the Corps' top brass thinking of, anyway, to put so much on anuntried kid just out of school?

At last he began to think less of his own burden and to concentrate onseeing what he could pick up mentally. He kept his eyes closed, butopened his mind wide and let the welter of thought-impressions roll inunhindered. 

There was much laughter and lighthearted gaiety about him, as wasnatural on such a luxury liner. There was also some fear of space andthe emptiness; some actual illness from space-fright. There were manymental undercurrents, and in one or two instances he thought he caughtvague hints of sinister intrigue, but was never quite able to isolatethese, or to bring them into more distinct focus. Quite evidently themen--or women--thinking such thoughts were able to close their minds tosome extent--or else he was too rusty at reading. He realized, too, thatthey might not be thinking of any such thing--he remembered once when hewas a boy he thought he had caught some such thought, then found laterit was merely a neighbor reading a story with a sinister plot. 

Mind-reading, he told himself, was the field in which he would beassigned to work. The Corps and the SS would be sure to hand him all thejobs where other agents had failed, just as they had in this case, inhopes that he could get them some beginning points of contact. So it wasup to him to get busy and learn how to do it better. 

The call for lunch found him still studying, but he was hungry, and wentdown to eat. He could work there as well as on the observation deck, anyway. 

Going into the dining room, the head waiter assigned him to a tablealmost in the center of the large and tastefully decorated room. Forsome moments he busied himself studying the menu, and when he hadordered he glanced up again at his tablemates. 

He had been introduced to this matron, and to her son who appeared to beabout his own age. He probed briefly, finding her a good sort but alittle too impressed with her own importance--new-rich, he guessed. Theboy he disliked on sight--he seemed a selfish, pampered brat. 

So he forgot them and concentrated on letting his mind roam about thegreat room, seeking information and trying to refine and develop hismind-reading ability. It seemed to him the latter was improving to someextent . . . Yet realized this could as easily be wish-fulfillment asactuality. 

After luncheon he returned to the observation deck and there, as thelong afternoon slowly passed, he sat in his deck chair, eyes closed, mind wide open. 

Several times he caught some one thought-impression more distinctly thanthe general run, and concentrated on trying to trace it mentally; toread it more clearly and minutely. But as he did not have much success, it began to irritate him . . . And that made him angrier. 

"Keep at it, and don't expect miracles, " he scolded himself. "Sure, you've got something, but anything--any ability of mind or muscle--needstraining and practice to get anywhere!"

After dinner that first evening Hanlon went into the recreation hall. There were dozens of tables where people were playing various games. Hesaw that around many of these other people were standing, watching theplay, and knew from this that social custom on the ship did not frown onsuch silent kibitzing. 

Therefore, he wandered about until he found a table where four men wereplaying stud poker. Here he stood, watching the game, but concentratingon the mind of the man opposite him, checking his mental impressionsagainst the man's wins and losses. 

He couldn't, at any time, actually read in the man's mind what his "holecard" was, he found. But he could quite easily sense from the player'smind whether the latter considered it a good one, a very poor one, oronly a possible winner. By watching the play as well as studying theman's feelings, facial movements and muscle twitches or tensenesses, Hanlon was soon able to make some remarkably accurate predictions as towhat the card was. By checking his deductions with the card when it wasshown, he saw he was gradually coming closer and closer to a perfectscore of "reading. "

 * * * * *

The next day Hanlon again sat most of the time in the lounge, his eyesclosed, letting his mind soak up all the impressions and vibrations hecould. When one seemed particularly strong, he tried to follow it andlocate the person--with his mind, not his eyes--and read the wholethought. 

Mostly he found again excitement and pleasure. Almost everyone on boardseemed to be having a grand time, and enjoying the trip to the utmost. It was what might be expected--a gay, carefree holiday crowd. 

Yet there was, occasionally caught, that sinister undercurrent that hadso puzzled him since he first sensed it the day before. It was notprominent at any time, nor continuous . . . More as though only one or twominds held the thought, and those not in the lounge all the time, butwandering in and out. 

He tried to analyze the feeling of those thoughts. They weremalevolent--that he had sensed from the beginning. And finally, later inthe afternoon, the person or persons thinking them evidently spent sometime near him in the lounge, for the feeling became much clearer to theSS man. 

Hanlon still kept his eyes closed. He made no effort at this time to tryto identify who was giving out those menacing sensations. That wouldcome later. At the moment he was more interested in trying to work outjust what those sinister impressions meant. 

And gradually his mind was forced to the conclusion that it could meanonly one thing--a killing. 

Hanlon was devoting almost all his mind to this problem when anothermental impression intruded, and grew stronger, more demanding of hisattention. 

It was a feeling of sympathetic concern, yet diffident, apologetic. Hefelt it growing stronger, seeming to be approaching him, to be directedat him. 

For the moment he left off worrying about the other matter, and watchedthis new thought. 

By the instant it was growing stronger, and closer. He knew that, someway. He directed his attention toward what he believed was its source, but idly, half angry at it for interrupting his more important thoughts. It was in front of him . . . And suddenly, like a bright, white beam oflight, his mind reached out and touched directly the mind holding thatthought. 

Touched it . . . It was instantly, unbelievably, _inside_ that mind!

He was able, actually, to _read_ the surface thoughts!

Clearly, distinctly, as though it were his own mind, Hanlon knew he wasone with a deck steward, who had noticed him sitting there all day andthe day before, with closed eyes and strained face. (His efforts atconcentration must have been too apparent--he'd have to learn to guardthat; to keep his face more impassive. )

Now the steward was coming to see if he was ill. And at that instant asoft, apologetic voice spoke from in front of him--spoke words he hadalready read in that mind. 

"Beg pardon, Mr. Hanlon, sir, but is anything wrong?"

He opened his eyes lazily, and let a smile break out as he saw thesolicitous face of the white-coated attendant. 

"Me? Not really. Just a little queazy, but I'm feeling better all thetime. "

"I'm glad. But be sure and call if I can be of any service. "

"Thank you, I will. " Hanlon reached in his pocket and slipped a creditnote into the man's hand. 

And as the steward walked away Hanlon's mind was instantly whirling withthis newly-discovered ability. He was astonished and delighted, ofcourse . . . But a little disturbed, too. 

"I was actually inside the guy's mind!" he thought in amazement. "That'sa new one! I was never able to do that before. I really read histhoughts! I've got to find out more about this. Let's see, now, how didI do it?"

Chapter 7

George Hanlon glanced about the observation deck and saw at somedistance the young man who had sat at the same dining table. Hanlongrinned a bit, and directed his mind that way. 

To the best of his memory, he concentrated on doing the same thing hehad done when he got inside the steward's mind. For long, anxiousminutes he tried. He felt tense, and the strain made his heart pound. Atlast he sank back into his chair. 

"The other was just a fluke, I guess, " he frowned in frustration anddisgust at himself. "I keep thinking I'm getting good--then _flooie_!"He idly sent his mind towards the boy again . . . And suddenly foundhimself once more within another person's mind. 

It was a strange, weird feeling . . . This getting two sets of thoughts atthe same time. Also, Hanlon felt a bit as though he was a trespasser insome forbidden temple. Yet he persevered, trying to see if he could readanything there . . . And was disappointed to find he could peruse andunderstand only the fleeting surface thoughts. 

With all his might, in every way he could think of, he tried to probeback and beneath those passing thought-concepts, but could get noinformation whatever of the young man's past or knowledge. Only vacuous, self-centered thoughts which were flowing idly through the youth's mindwere available to him. 

He wondered if he could influence the other to do something. If he couldcontrol another's mind--even just a little--it would really help in hiswork. So he now tried every method his agile mind could imagine, to makethe fellow pick up the book that lay beside his chair. He concentratedon it, he insisted, he willed it. But in vain--he could make noimpression whatever. 

Hanlon withdrew his mind. "I've no control, " he thought to himself. "Ican't take over his mind in any way. Neither can I read his past; justhis present thoughts. That's not too bad, although I hoped I had hit thejackpot at last. "

After some further reflection the thought occurred, "Maybe I can dobetter with someone else. "

During the balance of the day he kept trying to read the minds of othersof his fellow passengers, but found the same results in each case. Hedid, however, develop the technique of making a much quicker entranceinto a mind--could do that reading more swiftly, and yet know he wascorrect. 

"I get it now. I've got to approach it relaxed, not all tensed up like Iwas at first, " he finally realized. 

But when it came to probing into and reading the whole mind, into itspast thoughts and knowledges, no. Just that . . . No!

Pessimistically he began to feel he wasn't going to be able to do asmuch with his "mind-reading" as he--and his superiors--had hoped. 

Did this mean, he wondered disconsolately as he went to his stateroom, that he was to be a failure in the Secret Service? Or, he brightenedmomently, could he develop other methods of ferreting out information?But that, he told himself honestly, was out. What did he know aboutdetective work? The SS already had the best detectives in the Universe. 

This dark mood persisted while he went to bed and finally dropped off tosleep. But when he awoke the next morning he felt cheerful again. He hada lot--and he would get more. 

He ate a good breakfast, then went back to his deck chair and there, resolutely, he opened his mind once more to general impressions. Hewould keep working at it, and more was bound to come. Look how far he'dadvanced already. A lot further than when he had started. And at that, he probably--no, undoubtedly--could do more than any of the otherfellows on certain problems. As far as he knew--and Dad and AdmiralRogers had talked as though he were the only one they knew about--no oneelse could read even surface thoughts. 

So he kept diligently at it. And very soon, so strongly he deduced themind must be very close to him, he again found those sinisterimpressions that had bothered him so much. 

This time he glanced about, in apparently casual curiosity, yet touchedmind after mind of those nearest him. Then hit pay dirt!

Why, it was that bluff, hearty-looking, red-headed man in the thirdchair to his right. He didn't look vicious, that was certain, thoughthere was a grim set to his jaw. Yet his surface thoughts showed the manto be hard, cold and ruthless--a pure killer type. Hanson sensed he wasone of those men who have such a will to power that the lives and rightsof others are held cheaply, contemptuously. The kind who, if anothergets in his way, removes him . . . But carefully, lest his ownhighly-valuable skin be put in jeopardy. If he could get some one elseto do the dirty work, so much the better. Such conscienceless killerswere, Hanlon knew, usually arrant cowards. 

There was someone on this ship who was in this man's way--of that Hanlonfelt sure. The killer was determined to destroy this other the firstchance he got. His mind was now weighing chances and possibleopportunities--and Hanlon read and learned. 

Yes, this must be one of those "interesting people" that unknown SStipster back on Terra had mentioned. Was the victim another? Probably. For Hanlon had not yet read any thoughts in this killer's mind about anyconfederates. 

Hanlon kept close watch on this man and his mind, and picked up manyother stray bits of information, including his name, Panek. None seemedof too much immediate importance regarding the matter at hand. Yet theygave the Secret Service man a fairly good picture of the assassin'spersonality, when pieced all together. 

Suddenly, and but a barely passing whisper of thought, Hanlon caught theconcept that the intended victim's death was necessary to the coup"they" were planning on Simonides. 

Hanlon was instantly alerted by that planet-name. Perhaps this was adefinite lead for him. He strained to get more. The killer thoughtoccasionally of a man he called "The Boss", but not the name of thatdignitary, nor his actual position--politically, socially, economically, or otherwise. 

The SS man fumed inwardly because he could not get a clear picture ofthat "Boss. " This murderer did not have a visual type of mind, darn it. He didn't see clearly in pictorial terms any of the people or scenesabout which he thought. 

Hanlon had been gradually impressed, though, with the realization thatthis man was very much afraid of his boss. There was a mental shiverevery time thought of his employer entered his mind. There was somethingabout a previous failure, and what would undoubtedly happen unless itwas done now, but Hanlon couldn't get enough of that to make any senseto him. 

Again Panek began thinking, though very sketchily, about "Sime", as hecalled Simonides, and the "plot" that was being hatched there. Hanlonfelt the man's sneering contempt for "those beasts"--but could gain noidea whatever about what that reference meant. 

In so many ways this puzzle seemed to be growing worse instead ofbetter, and Hanlon knew a moment of frustration. But his sense of humorcame to his rescue. "You want the whole thing written out for you inblack and white?" he jeered at himself. "Snap out of it! Quit being adefeatist. "

Harder and more intently he tried to probe into the man's mind. Oh, ifhe could only learn to read below those passing surface thoughts; tofollow them down and back along the memory-chains into the total mind!Revealing though the thoughts he could catch were, for complete andswift results he must find the technique of reading a mind completely. If such a thing were possible. 

But probe as he might, the way to those deeper, buried memories andthoughts continued to remain locked from him. 

And then Panek got up and left the observation deck. 

 * * * * *

A light touch on his knee some time later snapped George Hanlon's eyeswide open, and he looked down to see a small, wriggly dog looking upinto his face, its tail frantically wig-wagging signals of profferedfriendship, the little tongue making licking motions toward the hand thepuppy could not quite reach. 

"Well, hi, fellow, " Hanlon reached down and lifted the little dog ontohis lap, where the latter wriggled and contorted in an ecstasy of joy, climbing all over the young man, licking at his hands and trying toreach his face. The puppy was so extremely happy and anxious to makefriends that Hanlon was soon laughing almost convulsively while tryingto avoid those well-meant but very moist kisses. 

"Wait now, boy. Take it easy. I like you and all that, but let's not getcarried away with ourselves. "

Hanlon scratched the puppy behind one of its floppy ears, and pressed itfirmly but gently down so it was lying on his lap. 

"That's better. Just lie there and take it easy. "

A sudden thought brought a grin onto the young man's lips. He tried toget into the puppy's mind . . . And got a real surprise. For after a fewanxious moments of testing and trying, he did it--actually got the dog'sthoughts of pleasure at finding such a wonderful new friend with such anose-appealing effluvium. Hanlon then tried to see if he could get intothe deeper parts of the dog's mind, and using what knowledge of thetechnique he had deduced in his previous though unsuccessful attemptswith humans, found after many more anxious minutes he could follow thethought-and-memory tracks back and back until the dog's whole mind wasopen to him. 

The puppy had far more of a mentality than Hanlon had ever guessed dogshad--and he knew they were far from stupid. This one's mind, he couldnow see, was immature but latently capable. 

Say, this was great! Hanlon probed some more, and found many sketchyfacts--sketchy because the thoughts were incomplete to the puppy, beyondits experience, and not because the man couldn't read perfectly what wasthere. The dog apparently knew a woman--Hanlon got the impression ofskirts--and answered when that goddess called the word "Gypsy. "

"Gypsy, eh?" Hanlon said aloud, and immediately the dog wriggled frombeneath his restraining hand, and again tried to climb up and lickHanlon's face in a frenzy of adoration. 

"Lie down, sir, and be quiet!" Hanlon said sternly, and the puppy did soinstantly, without question or hesitation. 

Hanlon thrilled, realizing at once that it was not what he had said thatdid the trick--but the fact that he was still inside the dog's mind, andthat it had obeyed his will rather than his words. 

"Hey, this needs looking into!"

Without saying the words aloud this time, Hanlon commanded the dog--orrather, he impressed the command directly onto the puppy's mind with hisown--to get down off his lap onto the deck. 

Instantly it leaped down. 

"Lie down. " The dog did so. 

"Roll over. " Again silently. But now the puppy merely looked up at him, imploringly, quivering in an apparent emotion of indecision. Hanlonrealized the puppy didn't know how to "roll over. "

"Guess I need to learn how to do it before I can teach, or rather, command, him to do it, " Hanlon grinned wryly to himself. For he realizedthat to do so he would have to learn how to control each of the dog'smuscles, and that before he could do that he would have to know whatpart of the brain controlled the nerves that made those muscles obey hiscommands. 

And that, if possible at all, would take one galaxy of a lot of studyand practice. 

For the next several minutes, then, he concentrated in making the puppydo a number of simple tricks, all the time watching carefully to see, ifpossible, the connecting links between brain, nerves and muscles. 

He was beginning to make a little headway in understanding this tripleco-relation, when he heard a sudden gasp. He looked up to see a youngmatron standing before him, her mouth and eyes wide with surprise. 

"Why . . . Why, Gypsy never did any tricks before. What are you, an animaltrainer?"

Hanlon leaped to his feet. "The best in the Universe, Madam, " hegrinned. "That's a mighty fine puppy you have. He came over andintroduced himself, and we've been having some fun together. "

"Yes, he ran off, and I've been hunting all over for him. But how onearth did you ever teach him so quickly?"

"It's a gift, " Hanlon mocked, then grew serious. "Honestly, Madam, Idon't know, " he said quietly. "I just seem to have a way with dogs, isall. By the way, would you sell me the puppy?"

"Sell Gypsy? No, thanks, " and she started away, calling to the dog tofollow. But it stood in indecision, looking from one to the other, notseeming to know whether to follow its beloved mistress or to stay andplay with this nice new friend. 

Hanlon quickly reached out to the dog's mind and impressed on it that itmust follow the woman, and always do whatever she told it. The puppythen trotted away, content. 

George Hanlon sank into his deck chair. This required a good think--amighty serious think--he told himself. He would have to work on this asmuch as on human minds. For if he could control animals--would it workon birds, or insects? Maybe even fish?--then he could get into placeshe, as a man, could not go. 

The lady and dog had disappeared when Hanlon got the inspiration to seeif his mind could find them; if he could again contact the dog when itwas not in sight, and he did not know exactly where it was. 

Instantly, effortlessly, it seemed, as though it happened merely becausehe wished it to, he found himself again inside the puppy's mind. Was itbecause he already knew that mind's pattern, he wondered?

Anyway, there he was, and now he tried to see if he could look outthrough Gypsy's eyes . . . And after much study, he did so. But the visionwas so distorted he wondered if his control was at fault, thenremembered having heard, or read somewhere, that a dog's eyes do notwork exactly the same as a man's. 

Finally he accustomed himself to them enough so he could see that theywere going down a narrow corridor, and then they stopped before a door, which opened after a moment. The dog, without a command, leaped throughthe doorway into the stateroom and ran to its basket, where it lay, panting, looking up at its mistress. 

Chapter 8

George Hanlon withdrew from the puppy's mind, and thought seriously. Yes, this matter of controlling the minds of animals was one that wouldrequire a lot of thought and study, and a tremendous amount of practice. But it seemed important enough to justify those expenditures. 

He hunted up his steward. "Where do the passengers keep their pets?"

"Some keep them in their staterooms, sir, but others in the kennels downon 'H' deck. "

"Thanks. Any rules against my going down there and looking at 'em? Ilike animals, especially dogs. "

"Oh, no, sir. Anyone can go down there. It's on the right hand side, about halfway aft. "

Arrived at the kennels, Hanlon found the cages contained about a dozendogs of various breeds, ages and sizes. Here were plenty of animal mindsfor his experimentation and study. 

After walking around and looking at them for some minutes, he sat downon a bench at one side of the cages, and concentrated on the dog nearesthim. It was a large white bull, and he guessed its age to be about fiveor six years. That was just what he wanted--an adult mind to study, notthat of an immature puppy. 

He had no trouble getting into the dog's mind, and for over an hour hesat there, studying it line by line, channel by channel, connector byconnector, while the dog lay as if asleep. Gradually Hanlon began tofeel he was beginning to know something about a dog's mind-and-bodycorrelation, and how it operated. 

Then, and only then, he woke the dog and began experiment with control. He found it easy to make the dog do anything he wished that was withinthe animal's previous knowledge and experience. What he wanted was tosee if he could make it perform motions and actions that were outsideits previous conditioning and training. After some fumbling, he thrilledto find that now even some of the simpler of those things were not toodifficult, although others his present knowledge was not up to handling. 

His study taught him to some extent how to activate the brain centerswhich controlled the nerves that sent messages to the proper musclesthat allowed the dog to do his bidding. But it still needed a lot ofstudy. He knew he had only made a bare start at learning what had to beknown to do it swiftly and easily. 

The kennel steward must have noticed the strange antics of the bull andthen, seeing Hanlon's intent concentration, figured there might be someconnection between the two. For he came up to the bench and looked downsomewhat hostilely at the man sitting there. But his voice, when hespoke, was very polite. 

"Anything I can do for you, sir?"

Hanlon had been concentrating so deeply he had not heard anyone come up, and the voice, speaking so suddenly right before him, startled andbefuddled him. He looked up, and his mind felt sluggish and weak, almostas though he had been doped. 

"Huh?" he asked stupidly. 

"I asked, " the man's tone was a little sharper, "if there was anything Icould do for you?"

"Oh, no. No thanks. " Hanlon forced himself to pay attention. "I justlike dogs and came down here to watch them. Must have dozed off. "

"Do you have a dog of your own here?"

"No, I have no dog at present. "

"What were you doing to that white bull. He's been acting very peculiarsince you've been here. "

"Me?" Hanlon made himself look surprised. "Why, nothing. I've just beensitting here; haven't said a word to any of them. "

"Well, I'm not too sure it's proper for you to be here as long as youhave no dog kennelled here. "

"Sorry. If it bothers you, I'll leave. "

Hanlon started away . . . Then stopped short. He had wondered at thatcuriously sluggish feeling in his mind. Now, with a start he had troubleconcealing, he suddenly realized a mind-numbing fact!

He had seen and heard that exchange of conversation from two separateand distinct points! And now he was watching himself leave!

_He had heard and seen both from his own . . . And from the dog's mind!_

Yes, he suddenly comprehended that the dog had heard and _understood_every word of that brief conversation--not as a dog might, _but as a manwould_!

Suddenly drenched with a cold sweat, Hanlon knew he had not merely beeninside the dog's mind, observing and controlling, but that he hadactually _transferred_ a portion of his own mind into the dog's brain!

No wonder his own mind--what was left in his own brain--had feltsomewhat inadequate and lacking for the moment. It was not his completemind. When the steward startled him, he had forgotten to withdraw fromthe bull's brain. 

Now he carefully did so, and with senses reeling, almost ran back to hisstateroom. 

Hanlon threw himself onto the bed and lay there, trembling with awe atrealization of the immensity of what he had done. 

How in the name of Snyder was such a thing possible? Reading a mind'simpressions, even the surface thoughts, was well within the realms ofpossibility he knew, for he had done it himself. Even hundreds of yearsbefore, such things had been believed possible, and had been studiedextensively and scientifically. Many people throughout the centuries hadclaimed the ability to read minds, though only a few had ever proventheir powers satisfactorily under carefully controlled laboratoryconditions. 

He himself, until the past day or so, had not been able to read a minddirectly, nor could he do it perfectly even yet, with humans. 

Also, he conceded, it was a reasonable concept that if he had any mentalability at all with humans, it should be greater and more efficient withanimals. For they had less actual brain-power; their minds were far lesscomplex than human minds. 

_But to be able to transfer part of his mind . . . To separateit--dissociate it--and have it outside of his body and in some otherbody's mind!_

"Ain't that sumpin'?" he whistled in awed amazement. 

Pulling himself together with an effort of will, he set his mind toreviewing carefully the entire episode, and to figuring out where allthis might fit in with the business at hand. 

"I thought, when I first got into that pup's mind, that it would be abig help, and it will. But this will be even more so, if I can reallycontrol animals, and see and hear with their eyes and ears. And if I cansend them where I want them to go, and send my mind, or part of it, along with them, and still know what it and they are doing, that will betremendous!"

He remembered how he had been able to get into the puppy's mind after ithad gone out of sight, so now he sent his mind down to the kennels. Again, without any trouble, without any delay or hesitation, he foundhimself inside the bull's mind, and could look out through the cagewires and see the rest of the kennel deck. 

He withdrew and lay there, almost dumbfounded. 

"How did I ever get such ability?" he wondered. "No one else in ourfamily has it. Am I some sort of a mutant? But if so, how or why? Inever heard Dad or Mother mention it. "

He had lots of questions, but no answers. 

But thinking about this new ability and his job with the Secret Servicesuddenly reminded him of that potential murderer he had been watching. He realized with dismay that in his excitement over this latestdevelopment he had entirely forgotten that angle. He had better get backon the ball, but fast!

He got up, splashed cold water on his face, dried it, ran a comb throughhis hair, and went back to the lounge. 

 * * * * *

The man Panek was not in the Observation lounge, so Hanlon went seekinghim. Just as he neared the game rooms on his rounds, he saw his manleaving them. Allowing the stranger to get some distance ahead, Hanlontrailed him as carefully as he could, all the time trying to read whatthe killer had in mind. 

Not entirely to his surprise, Hanlon found he could now read the surfacethoughts even more easily than formerly. Thus he soon knew, emphatically, that the man was definitely bent on that contemplatedkilling right now--that the victim was in his stateroom but was going toleave it shortly in response to a faked video-call. 

Hanlon also learned that the murderer had a knife concealed in hissleeve--and was adept in its use. 

The SS man's mind rocketed swiftly. What was he to do? He didn't want amurder done, but neither did he want this man killed nor jailed--atleast not until he had learned a great deal more concerning him and hispart in or knowledge of that "plot" on Simonides that Hanlon and theCorps were trying so desperately to solve. 

"I've got to learn to consider mighty carefully all the angles abouteven the most apparently-insignificant things, " he thought carefully. "Ican't take chances of gumming things up, but on the other hand, I wantto get an 'in' with that gang if I can. "

A possibility occurred to the young agent--and he quailed a bit, thengrinned wolfishly at the thought. It was plenty dangerous, but if hecould put it over maybe it would give him that "in" he needed. 

He hurried his steps and caught up with the big man just as the latterwas stopping momentarily to peer cautiously around the corner and down acorridor which, Hanlon could read in his mind, led to the victim'sstateroom. 

Hanlon tapped the man on the shoulder, and as the fellow whirled, asnarl on his face, Hanlon stepped backward a pace and held up his handsin the "I'm not armed" gesture. Then, before Panek could speak, hestepped closer to whisper. 

But the thug was both angry and frustrated at the spoiling of hiscarefully-worked-out plan, and in no mood for conversation. That lethalknife seemed to jump out of his sleeve and toward Hanlon, in the strong, swift, practiced hand of the killer. 

The SS man jumped backward, then his own hands darted out and grabbedfor the other's wrists in the manner he had been taught. He caught theright, or knife hand, but the big fellow was as dextrous as he, even ifhe didn't look capable of such fast action. His other hand eludedHanlon's grasp, and with it Panek struck and jabbed--heavy blows toHanlon's face and body. 

Hanlon parried the blows as best he could, at the same time trying tomake his low-voiced words penetrate. 

"Cut it out, you fool! I'm trying to help you, not hinder you! Stop it, blast you, and listen!"

But he might as well have been talking to the metal walls. One eye wasswelling rapidly, and he had a nick in his arm that he could feel wassoaking his jacket sleeve. Seeing he couldn't make the fellow listen, Hanlon threw him with a super-judo trick, then sat on him. 

"Shut up and listen to me, Panek!" he hissed urgently, using all hisfighting technique meanwhile to keep the other's threshing formimmobile. "I'm trying to warn you that the bozo you're after carries oneof those new needle-guns, and the needles are poison-tipped. Also, he'sthe fastest man on the draw I've ever seen--I watched him practice. Justone of those needles and you'd be kaput before you could yell. "

 * * * * *

"Why . . . How . . . What d'you mean, huh, what d'you mean?"

The man stopped his struggles for the moment, while his face showedplainly how aghast he was at this interfering stranger's apparentknowledge of his intentions. 

"Who are you, huh, and what's your game, what's your game?"

Hanlon made his voice seem both friendly and calculating, and hurried onwith his specious explanation before the fellow should start fightingagain. 

"I'd been tipped off there was something up, on Simonides, where a goodhustler could make himself plenty of credits. And credits in quantity iswhat I'm after . . . "

"What's that got to do with me, huh, what has it?"

". . . And I'm on my way there to see what my chances are of getting in onthe game. So naturally I tried to learn all I could about it ahead oftime. I was told this bird you're after was an important man there, so Istudied him. One of the first things I found out about him was that hecarried one of those needlers. If he's in your way, together we oughtabe able to get rid of him . . . But let's play it safe, eh?"

The stranger gave him a cold, calculating going-over with those hard, suspicious eyes. "Let me up, Bub, let me up. I'll be good while wetalk. "

Hanlon rose, but stood warily as the other slowly climbed to his feet. But he wasn't sharp enough--Panek's hand flashed out even before heseemed to be standing erect, and slickly grabbed the wallet from theinside pocket of Hanlon's jacket. 

But the SS man, seeing what the other was after, stood there withoutmaking any resistance. 

"Take your time looking at 'em, Pal, " he said easily. "I'm clean. Strictly on my own in this. Just got kicked out of that snake's nest ofa Corps school on Terra . . . "

The killer's head snapped up at mention of the Corps, and he staredharder and more suspiciously than ever into Hanlon's eyes. 

". . . They said I cheated at exams, and wouldn't give me a chance todefend myself, " Hanlon continued quickly, but with heat. "That soured meon 'em, but good! So I says to myself, blast John Law! From now on I'mon the other side. Anything he's after must be worth plenty to any guywho can outsmart him. Knowing his side of it and how he works, I figureI'm just that good!"

He said all this with such a deadly serious voice, that although it wasbravado Panek could see it was also confidence. Hanlon had figured thisstraight-forwardness was his best bet. Tell his side of it first, for ifhe got in with them--or any gang--they would be sure to check, and wouldfind out he had been a cadet, anyway. "Beat 'em to the punch before theyform any contrariwise conclusions, " was his judgment. 

His plan seemed to be working, for as his explanation continued and wascompleted the killer looked at him with some measure of respect, although his eyes and manner were still filled with suspicion. 

"Can't blame you for feeling sore, can't blame you, if they really didkick you out. But I don't trust nobody that's ever had any connection atall with the cops, don't trust 'em!"

"Look, Pal, use your head! If I was a John Law would I merely havestopped you? I'd be arresting you--or killing you for pulling that knifeon me. I tell you I'm clean--and that I want an 'in' on Simonides. "

"I heard, too, there was good pickings on Sime, " the man said slowly. "'Course, I'm not in on anything special, myself, not in on it. Thishere's a purely personal grudge deal. But you prob'ly did me a goodturn, a good turn, and if you want to look me up after we land, I maybecould introduce you to a man or two. I didn't know old Abrams carriedone of them needlers, didn't know that. "

The thanks in his gruff voice showed his respect for those silent, deadly little guns. 

That name--Abrams--rang a bell in Hanlon's mind, though he quicklydecided he'd better let it lie for the moment--file it away for futureinvestigation. 

He smiled in comradely fashion. "The way you were walking into it mademe sure you didn't know. And thanks. Maybe I will look you up. I don'tknow anyone on Simonides, and it doesn't hurt to have a friend or three. Where do I find you there?"

"Evenings I'm often at the Bacchus Tavern. And, " with a sinistergrimace, "if you come, you'd better pray that '_he_' likes you, you'dsure better!"

Chapter 9

SS man George Hanlon went slowly back to his room where he could thinkseriously without the outside abstractions he would be sure to encounterin any of the public rooms. 

He had made a good bid, he thought, for contact with what he felt suremust be the group he wanted to get in with. Hanlon felt Panek'sstatement that he, personally, was not in on it, was just so muchhog-wash. That last crack about "you'd better pray that 'he' likes you, "was almost sure proof. 

But what did it mean? Who was this "he, " and why had Hanlon better pray"he" liked him? Probably the leader . . . And if so, undoubtedly adangerous man to play around with. Hanlon remembered the fear of hisboss he'd read in Panek's mind. 

Also, what about Abrams? Hanlon felt sure it was the same man he hadguarded that day. Oh, oh, was that "failure" he had also read in Panek'smind that unsuccessful attempt he, Hanlon, had thwarted? Was Panek--andthrough him this as-yet-unmet leader--behind that attempt on Abrams'life?

These were questions he could not answer yet--not enough data. But hewould have to find the answers sometime. And once in Panek's gang, hemight find them. And even if this particular gang was not the one doingthe plotting in which the Corps was so interested, Hanlon felt thatgetting into even one of the organized gangs on Simonides would be astep in the right direction. 

But he would have to watch his step. Those fellows would be about assafe to play with as a pitful of cobras. For a long moment he grew coldwith fear; a deadly, paralyzing terror that twisted his vitals intohard, hard knots. What business did he have, mixing with mature, deadlykillers such as these?

On the other hand, he consoled himself after awhile, being able to readtheir surface thoughts should warn him when he started getting out ofline. Then, if or when he did, he would walk more softly, travel inch byinch, and not make any attempts to jump into the big middle of thingsuntil he got a lot more information . . . And more experience in the waysand means of gangsterism. 

But suddenly he felt that cold fear return. Those men were--mustbe--hard, trained killers all. This Panek was not even the boss--wasjust a gunny. And those higher-ups would be much worse than Panek--moreruthless and more contemptuous of human life and rights. They would haveto be, to be the higher-ups. For Hanlon sensed that in such a group, Might very decidedly made Right . . . And Power. 

It took some time to quiet his shrieking nerves. Nor did he ever forgetthe awfulness of that fear that so nearly brought him down out ofcontrol. On the other hand, never again did he reach such depths ofutter panic. 

He finally rose, bathed and dressed for dinner. But during the meal hismind was in such a turmoil he had trouble keeping himself outwardlycalm. For the first time in more years than he could remember he merelytoyed with his food . . . And he had always been a good trencher-man. 

But he had something very important to do tonight, and he would letnothing keep him from it. So he went to the _Hellene's_ library andstudied from such books on biology and physiology as he could find, allhe could about the brain and the nerves that formed the connecting linksbetween it and the muscles. He studied until the dimming of the lightstold him that "day" was over. 

He then sent his mind down into the brain of the bulldog, and watchedthrough its eyes until he saw the kennel steward leave for the night. Then Hanlon went down to the kennel deck. 

Sitting on the same bench as before, Hanlon sent his mind into that ofthe white bull. Again he had no trouble attaching a portion of his mindto the dog's brain. A little experimentation soon showed how much of hismind that brain could contain. 

Then, from the _inside_, he studied that brain line by line, muscle andnerve channels and connectors, even more surely than he had been able todo before. 

The first thing he learned, and put into practice, was to make the dogsleep, so he wouldn't tire too much. After nearly three hours ofintensive study he was convinced he was beginning to know it quite well, although he realized how much there still was for him to learn--how muchstudy and practice he would need. 

He then woke the dog, and while still leaving that part of his mind inits brain, scanned the next cage which held a beautiful female Airedale. Into her brain he sent another portion of his mind. Then into the nextdog another portion, and on and on until he had detached more thanthree-quarters of his mind, and was controlling directly eight dogs. 

His body felt weak and listless as it sagged on the bench, and he madeit lie down there in the semi-darkness. There was, he was afraid at thetime, little more than enough mind left in his body to keep thesemi-automatic functions going. 

It was the most weird sensation imaginable, having portions of his mindin nine places at once--having nine different and distinct viewpoints!

He found he could do, although not too well at first, nine differentthings at once and the same time, or could make all the bodies he wascontrolling do the same thing at the same time. 

He "drilled" the dogs, making them line up, walk left or right or backup, all in unison. He found that while his mind was divided andcontrolling different bodies, there was a thread of connecting thoughtbetween them all, so that he knew what each of the others was doing. Yetit was not a central command--each individual mind-portion could and diddo its own deciding and commanding. 

For hours Hanlon practiced with the dogs until he had worked out theprocedure to the point where he knew he could make them perform--singly, as a group, or each doing a different thing--almost any task of whichtheir body muscles were capable, whether they had previously known howto do it or not. 

Bringing his mind-portions back from seven of the dogs into his ownbrain, after commanding them to sleep, he went over to the cage of theAiredale he was still controlling. Squatting down before the bars, hetook a pencil-stub and piece of paper from his pocket. These he passedthrough the bars and laid at her feet. 

Then, while he watched with his own mind through his own eyes, he usedonly the portion of his mind that was inside her brain, and made theAiredale pick up the pencil in her teeth, blunt end inside her mouth. Holding it thus, she attempted to write on the paper, which she heldsteady with her two front paws. 

Anxious minutes passed while Hanlon sweatingly experimented. At last thedog managed to print, very roughly and clumsily, a few letters. Theywere large and very crude. It wasn't that he couldn't control hermuscles--it was, simply that the muscles were not built to do suchthings without infinite training. 

When it finally became so near "morning" that he knew he had to quit, Hanlon left the kennels and went to bed. He was still amazed, excitedand thrilled about this strange and weird ability, but he was also wellcontent with his studies. If a time came when he might wish or need touse animals in his work, he felt capable of managing them. Yet again herealized how much there was to learn; that he must continue practicingand studying at every opportunity. 

Did cats or horses--or birds or insects--have brains that worked thesame as the dogs? He would have to experiment to find that out, firstchance he got. 

But now there was another very serious problem demanding his attention. He had made a wonderful start at getting an "in" with Panek, theSimonidean thug. Now, how could he best turn that to his advantage?

It was some time before he fell asleep from sheer weariness, nor had hesolved the problem before he did so. 

The moment he awoke, late the next morning, he knew he had the answer. His sub-conscious must have solved it for him while he slept. 

At brunch he kept his eyes open, and before too long Panek came into thedining room for his lunch. Hanlon signalled, and his new-foundacquaintance came to his table. Their orders given and the waiter on hisway, Hanlon opened up. 

"Look, Pard, I don't want to butt into your business, but if you wantthis Abrams out of your way, I'll be glad to take a crack at it foryou. "

The Simonidean looked at him scornfully. "Think you're that good, eh?Better'n me at bumping off a man, huh? Better'n me?"

"Oh, no, " Hanlon made his face seem very apologetic, and his tone thesame. "I'm not setting myself even one notch ahead of you, norcriticizing your way of working . . . "

"Better not, neither!"

". . . But every man has his own techniques. Look, in this case, aboard aship in space where you can't run or hide, I think my way would workbest. "

The other was becoming interested in spite of himself, and histruculence melted a bit, although his tone was still sneering. "Allright, Master Mind, how'd you handle it, how would you?"

"A gun or knife is all right on some jobs, " Hanlon leaned closer andspoke in a semi-whisper, but earnestly. "But there are times when it'splain foolish to sneak up behind a man and hit him on the head with aclub. "

"Yeah, you got something there, got something. "

"In such a case, I figure it's a lot better to make friends with theguy, take him to dinner, then sneak a little cyanide in hiscoffee--something like that. "

Panek was impressed. Hanlon read the swift thoughts racing across theother's mind. He hadn't liked the idea of using his knife, here on thisship. But neither did he dare report back to that feared "boss" that hehadn't succeeded in killing Abrams. 

Panek spoke doubtfully. "Yeah, that may be all right, but not when theguy knows you, then you can't get away with a thing like that, not whenhe knows you. "

"Exactly what I'm getting at, " Hanlon said eagerly. "Me, I'm the UnknownQuantity. Nobody knows me. I can get to old Abrams and make it all seemnatural. "

"He ain't easy to fool, no, he ain't. "

"I'm sure he isn't. But since I've got to make a start somewhere if Iwant to get into things on Simonides, I figure giving you an assist isworth the trial. "

"Well, " Panek hesitated and his cold eyes bored into those of thisenigmatic young man. "I still don't quite trust you, can't be sure Itrust you. I still figure you're some kind of a cop . . . "

Hanlon half-rose, his face dark with intense anger. "Don't ever call mea cop!" he blazed, though still in a whisper. "I hate 'em. As a kid Ithought they were tops, and did everything I could to get into theirschool. But I mighty quick found out how wrong I was. I was good andsick of 'em, and about ready to quit when they threw me out on that lieabout cheating . . . Say, I knew more'n their knuckle-headed instructors, so why'd I need to cheat?"

"Easy, Pal, take it easy. "

"They just want to use their high and mighty authority, " Hanlon ignoredPanek's shushing. "They just like to push people around 'cause they goton a pretty uniform. "

His voice had risen in pitch until Panek had to grab his arm and shakehim to make him keep still. People at the nearer table were beginning tolook at them. But Panek was impressed now with Hanlon's sincerity--theSS man could read that in his mind. 

"All right, Pal, all right. Don't bust a gut. You bump off old Abramswithout getting caught, and I'll get you in with a gang on Sime whereyou can really do yourself some good, really some good. "

Hanlon nodded shortly and rose. "I'll keep in touch. And your man's asgood as dead right now. "

His heart was singing--his plan was working smoothly. Now if thatgovernment man had any brains, and would play along . . . 

Hanlon found Abrams in the library, and slipped into the seat next tohim. Opening a magazine and holding it fairly high before his face whileapparently reading it, Hanlon started talking in low but penetranttones. 

"Don't look up, Mr. Abrams, but listen to me. You may or may not knowit, but there's a plot against your life. I managed to delay ityesterday, but they intended getting you before we reach port. Now Ihave a plan. I earnestly beg you to listen and work with me. "

The Simonidean had given a slight start when he heard Hanlon's firstwords, but he had been well-trained in a hard school, and in no otherway had even shown that he heard. Now, however, he spoke as guardedly asHanlon. "Who is trying to kill me?"

"A man named Panek, but someone's behind him that I don't know. But thequestion is: will you work with me?"

"Yes, if I can. "

Abandoning his attempts at secrecy, Hanlon started laughing out loud, asthough at something he was reading. As Abrams looked up in surprise, Hanlon leaned over and held out his magazine in front of the Simonidean, pointing at it. 

"Play up now, " he said softly, and the diplomat, quick on the up-take, pretended to look at what Hanlon was showing him, then began laughing inturn. Thereafter, the ice broken as far as any on-lookers might know, the two talked naturally as shipboard acquaintances might do. 

"Why, " Abrams really looked at Hanlon for the first time, "you're theyoung man who saved my life on Terra, aren't you?"

"Yes, but keep it quiet. I want us to stick together more or less therest of the day, as though we'd just met and liked each other. Then havedinner together. Do you have your own servant?"

"My valet, yes, and he is absolutely trustworthy. Why?"

"While we're eating I'll appear to put something into your drink whileyou're not looking. A few moments later you'll act as though you weresuddenly taken ill, and go to your room. Have your valet later let theword out that you're very ill, and send word by space-video for anambulance to meet the ship. Just before landing, let him say you'vedied. The ambulance can take you wherever it's natural your body wouldbe taken, and you keep under cover for some time, until I notify you. Can do?"

"Hmmm. " The other thought rapidly but cogently for some minutes. "With afew minor variations, yes. But why? . . . Oh, I see. You want to get inwith the gang, is that it?" When Hanlon nodded Abrams continued, "you'replaying a dangerous game, but that's what we've learned to expect ofyour Corpsmen. A wonderful group!"

"Thanks. " Hanlon did not want to explain anything, so let it go at that, and the two talked companionably of many things as they moved naturallyabout the ship. They listened for a while to a concert in the musicroom, then played a few games of cards. Each time the diplomat tried toask questions, Hanlon side-stepped. 

The SS man had seen Panek cautiously spying on them from time to time, and when the two went in to dinner the thug took a seat nearby, butwhere Abrams could not see him. 

Hanlon had been probing Abrams' mind all this time, but had been unableto get any clue as to a plot that might upset the peace of his world, orthe Federation. Hanlon realized the man was an intense patriot, and hecame to the conclusion that Abrams did not particularly like the PrimeMinister. But the "why" of that dislike eluded him. 

The two were about finished with dinner and their coffee had beenserved. Hanlon called his companion's attention to something behind him. As the latter turned to look, Hanlon's hand flashed out and hovered aninstant over the other's cup. 

A few moments later the Simonidean played his part to perfection. Hetook a drink, then another, and almost before he had set his cup down, gave a groan, and clutched at his stomach and throat. 

He rose shakily, and tottered away heavily on the arm of an anxioussteward who had come running up. 

Hanlon, although he rose quickly and made his face seem concerned andsympathetic, resumed his seat and finished his coffee. When the stewardreturned, he called him over, and seemed reassured when the latterreported that Mr. Abrams had said it was apparently only an attack ofindigestion, to which he was prone, and that his man could take care ofhim. 

But the next day word ran about the ship that Abrams was very ill, andnot expected to live the day out. 

Panek sauntered past where Hanlon was sitting, reading, and stopped toask for a light. 

"Nice work, Pal, nice work, " he whispered as he was lighting his cigaro. "See me at the Bacchus. "

But his thoughts, as Hanlon scanned them, were muttering viciously, "I'll cut out his guts if he's planning to louse up 'his' plans, I'llsure carve him!"

And a bit later, as Hanlon reviewed the entire episode, he thanked hisstars that Panek was a lot less than an intellectual giant. A brighterman would have wondered about the source of Hanlon's knowledge of hishomicidal plans; and how it happened that Hanlon carried a supply ofpoison. There had been no indication that either question had occurredto Panek. 

Chapter 10

The moment he got off the ship and went into the city of New Athens hecould feel it. There was an air of mystery, of secretiveness, ofintrigue, that could not help but be noticed by one as sensitive toemotion-impressions as SS Man George Hanlon. 

He got out of his ground-cab at the entrance of a great park in thecenter of the city, but directed the driver to take his luggage on tothe hotel. Then Hanlon went in to sit on a bench beneath a beautiful, flowering ba'amba tree. 

Once there, he opened his mind to its fullest extent, and let all theimpressions and sensations of this new world soak in. He could not, ofcourse, get any factual details in this way, nor did he expect to. Whathe wanted, and began to get, was the "feel" of the city. And the longerhe sat the less he liked it. 

For he could sense so clearly that there most certainly was "a Mercutianin the fuel pit" here somewhere. But what it was; what this strangefeeling portended, he could not quite make out. 

He noticed, casually, that there were the usual idlers in this park, andhundreds of children with their nurses or parents. But there were noneof the derelicts one sees in so many large-city parks. Most of thepeople seemed well-dressed and not too poor. He could catch occasionalbits of thought about big business deals. 

After a time Hanlon noticed that here, as in most parks, hundreds ofnative, pigeon-like birds were flying and hopping about, seeking whatcrumbs they could scrounge from picnickers' lunches, or nuts fed them byinterested idlers. 

He wondered if he could get into a bird's mind, and sent his out tocontact one. His ability was, he found, much the same as it had beenwith the dogs--he could not only "read" what mind the pigeon had, butcould control it . . . Could actually project part of his mind into thebird's brain. 

The brain-texture, was different, but as he sat there for another hour, he learned the difference. For now he knew what to look for, and it didnot take long until he knew it well. Finally he got so he could see andunderstand what the people around him were doing--not through his owndirect observation, but through the pigeon's senses. He sent severalwinging high into the air, and got a good perspective of the entirecity. 

At last he brought his mind back into his own brain, and gave a mentalshrug, then rose from the bench. 

"You're just stalling, you know, " he scolded himself. "Get to the hotel, check in, then go look in the bank vault. You've got a job to do, so getdoing it!"

From the hotel he went to the bank and signed up for a box. There wasnothing yet for him in box 1044, so he left a note addressed "To Any SSMan, " stating he was here and ready to begin his work. 

Back at the hotel he unpacked, took a shower, and then a short nap. There was no telling what the night might bring forth, and he wanted allhis strength and powers. 

New Athens was a beautiful city, as befitted the capitol of the richestplanet in the Federation. For Simonides Four had become just that, evenoutstripping Terra in the wealth from her manufacturers and exports. Hershipments of ores, jewels, unusual furs, manufactured goods, precisiontools and art products, as well as foodstuffs raw and processed, raninto trillions of credits every year. 

The great square showed plainly that some architect or city planner witha love of classic lines had been in charge here. The buildings were allmodern representations of the great temples and public buildings of theGolden Age of Greece on Terra. They were widely spaced, with magnificentlawns and gardens surrounding each. 

Thousands of lights artfully concealed accentuated the beauty of thosewonderful buildings, and Hanlon caught his breath in pleasure at hisfirst sight of the marvelous square by night. He had thought itwonderful by day--now he admitted without reservation that it was themost magnificent sight he had ever seen. 

He finally signalled a ground-cab--New Athens had no slideways--to go tothe Bacchus. It was several blocks from the square, but each of thestreets he travelled were almost as beautiful. 

The tavern was housed in a large though one-storied building with apillared facade. The main room was level with a gardened terrace fivesteps above the street. 

Inside, the tavern was tastefully decorated in subdued colors. It wasdimly lighted by representations of flambeaus, stuck at angles in thewalls. The center of the room was occupied by dozens of tables ofvarying sizes, while along one side and part of the back were curtainedbooths. Along the other side ran an ornate bar. 

Hanlon made his way to the latter, and sat on one of the upholsteredstools. The bar girls, he noted with interest, were revealingly costumedin pseudo-peplos of a purplish, cob-webby, silkish material. They woreno blouses, but long sashes that passed behind the neck, crossed thebreasts and tied about the waist to hold up the short skirt. One of thegirls came up to get his order. 

"I'm new on the planet, " he smiled. "Let me have your best native lightwine. "

She brought him a glass filled with a sparkling, golden liquid, andwaited while he took his first appreciative sip. "We call it 'GoldenNectar', " she smiled. 

He smacked his lips. "Wonderful!" Then, as she started away he calledher back. "Do you know a Mr. Panek? I was to meet him here, but I don'tsee him. "

Her eyes widened a bit at that name. "I'll see if I can locate him foryou, sir, " and she moved away. 

Some minutes later, while he was still pretending to sip his drink, Hanlon felt a hearty clap on the shoulder. 

"Well, well, it's my pal from the ship. Welcome to Sime, Pal, welcome toSime. "

"Hi, Panek! Hope you meant that about looking you up, 'cause here I am. "

Hanlon flipped a credit note on the bar and followed Panek. He was ledtoward a back corner, but there, instead of going into one of thebooths, Panek pushed through an almost hidden alcove. He knockedpeculiarly on a door, and a peephole was opened. When the guardian sawwho it was, the door was opened enough so the two could slide through. 

Hanlon, in a quick, comprehensive glance, saw that it was a fairly largeoffice, at present occupied by four men. 

"This is George Hanlon, " Panek introduced him, "the guy who did that jobon old Abrams, the same guy. "

Hanlon noticed that Panek did not name the men there, but he could seethey appeared to know all about him, and were giving him a closeonce-over. Hanlon scanned back in return, his mind quickly touching oneafter another of the three sitting in large, easy chairs. Only theirsurface thoughts were readable, and he knew at first touch they were butunderlings, the same as Panek. He read a favorable impression ofhimself, but with reservations. 

He turned his attention to the well-dressed, impressive-looking manbehind the plasticene desk, nor had his other probings taken more than afew seconds. He noted with interest the round, smooth face, the slightlyover-large greenish eyes, the silver hair that seemed finer and silkierthan any Hanlon had ever seen on a human being. It was almost like finefur, he thought suddenly. 

Then he got a shock! This man was different . . . Hanlon could not touchthat mind at all! There was a sort of an . . . An alien feeling there hecould not quite fathom. It was like no other mind he had ever tried toread. 

But he was careful not to let his face show anything of his innerthoughts as he saluted them gravely after that first brief pause. 

Then suddenly he made his face show a boyish enthusiasm . . . Almost anaivete. "Maybe Mr. Panek has already told you about me. I'm looking fora chance to make a flock of credits . . . And I'm not too particular how Iget 'em. "

But his mind was tense and anxious. What was their game? And this fellowbehind the desk, this leader. Who was he? Hanlon knew he would have areal job finding out those answers . . . But knew he must!

The leader nodded suavely. "That is a very . . . Uh . . . Commendabledesire, " he said in a low, gentle voice that was a perfect match for hisoutward appearance of high gentility. "We can always use a good man, " hecontinued, "who isn't afraid . . . Nor too squeamish. "

"A trigger-man?" Hanlon shrugged. "If it pays well, okay. "

The man seemed to recoil, his delicate hands fluttering in the airalmost femininely. "No, no, my dear young man. You misunderstood meentirely. We do nothing so crude, so vulgar, so . . . So brutal. Oh, sometimes we . . . Uh . . . Sometimes an accident happens tosomeone. But nothing, you understand, that we have anything todo with. Your technique with the poor Mr. Abrams, who was so suddenlytaken . . . Ill . . . Had led me to hope you had more finesse. "

"I beg your pardon, " Hanlon's tone was now one of apology. "I canfinesse, all right, but I didn't know you wanted me to talk that way inprivate. I'll remember, and respect your wishes from now on. "

Inwardly he was puzzled. He kept trying to touch that mind, but couldnot. Was the guy human--or did he have a mind-control of some sort? Washe used to mind-reading, so that he had developed a defense against it?

Or--and Hanlon almost caught his breath in momentary fear--was this apea mind reader? A real one, not a dub like himself?

But the leader was answering, still in that gentle tone, as thoughnothing had happened. "So . . . So . . . That is good. I hate the thought ofbloodshed, and I will not countenance roughness in actions or speech. Itis regrettable, of course, that sometimes men are stupid enough tooppose us, but . . . " and again that almost feminine gesture. 

This was the silkiest, slimiest . . . _thing_ . . . George Hanlon had everencountered, and again his heart quailed for the moment. "If I was on myown, " he shuddered inwardly, "I'd sure never team up with a guy likethat!"

For there was no single iota of mercy or compassion in that ice-coldmind behind that gentle face--of that Hanlon was sure. 

There was a long, pregnant moment of silence, while the five men studiedHanlon more carefully. Finally the man behind the desk spoke moreslowly. "Perhaps--just perhaps, you understand, and nothing definite asyet--we may have a little job for you before long. On another planet. You have no objections to travel?"

"Not if there's a bundle of the stuff at the end of the trip, no, "Hanlon grinned avariciously. But his mind was seeking answers. Why didthey want to send him away? Was this a bona-fide job, or a trap? Shouldhe go to some other planet? Would he thus get best leads? Perhaps--if itwasn't for too long a time, of course. 

The leader smiled suddenly while Hanlon was thus thinking, and the restgrinned as though they had been waiting for his lead to relax theirvigilance. "There will be a very large . . . Uh . . . Bundle. " He paused amoment, then continued "We need more overseers on . . . A certain planet. It is one that is rich in various metals. The natives mine it under ourdirection, and . . . "

Hanlon interrupted. "I don't know a thing about mining. Will that make adifference?" Here, he thought swiftly, was the test. If they stillwanted him--and had a reasonable answer--it might well be a bona-fidejob. 

"None at all, " the leader smiled again. "We have mining engineers incharge. Your job would be merely to keep the natives working at topspeed. It is . . . Uh . . . Unfortunate, that they are high enough in thecultural scale so we cannot, under the Snyder dictum, colonize theirplanet and work it ourselves. But we will chan . . . " he broke off asthough realizing he was saying too much, and Hanlon stiffened inwardly. 

This was a real clue. What planet was the man talking about? His mostpenetrant mind-probing could not get the answer from any of the mindsthere--to the others it was merely "a planet, " nothing more. And thisape, with his perfect mental control, let nothing leak. 

But the leader had caught himself and gone on almost as though there hadbeen no break, ". . . Chance using you, I think. If so, your salary willbe a thousand credits a month, plus all expenses. And a nice bonus everyso often, depending on how little trouble you have with your crew, andhow much ore they take out. "

Hanlon showed that gleam of avarice again. "Sounds very interesting. "Then he leaned forward. "One, more thing. How long does the job last?"

"For several years, if you want it, and if we continue to be satisfiedwith you. But we bring the men back every few months for a vacation. Wefind that best with most of them--the climate there is not too pleasant, and the conditions are confining. "

"Nothing to do but work, eh?"

"Just about that. The shifts are about eight hours of our time, andbetween them you eat, sleep, read or play cards . . . But you do notexplore or anything like that! The ship goes there every three weeks, and we usually figure eighteen weeks there, then the three weeks backhere. The guards and others rotate that way. They have a tendencyto . . . Uh . . . Deteriorate if we don't. "

Hanlon let himself shiver, but grinned as he did so. "Now that's onething I don't want to do--go nuts. Can't make any credits doing that. "

The leader raised his hand. "You understand, of course, there will be ashort period of . . . Uh . . . Checking and testing before we decide to sendyou out on a job. "

Hanlon's voice was almost servile, yet confident. "Sure, sir. You nameit; I do it. "

He was still probing with everything he had, but still getting nothingimportant. A couple of the men seemed to be chuckling about what mighthappen to him if he failed the tests--but he had guessed that much, anyway. 

Suddenly the leader leaned across the desk, and his genteel mannerslipped from him like a discarded mask. His eyes became glacial ice. 

"Don't get any grandiose ideas in your head, Hanlon. We are not fools. Nor are we offering you a chance to get in on our complete plans. I amjust, possibly, hiring you to do a simple job. "

"Oh, no, sir, I wasn't even thinking of such a thing, " Hanlonlooked hurt. "Why, I'm just a kid. I know I couldn't expect anythingelse . . . At first. Not until I've proved myself to you, or until I'vemade my pile and got in a position of power. Then, naturally, I'd wantto get into something where I could really go places. But that's foryears and years ahead, I know that. "

The now-hard, cold eyes scrutinized him carefully, but still doubtfully. When the leader spoke his voice was more cordial, though still harder, not soft as it had been at first. 

"I'll be frank, Hanlon. We're not too sure of you . . . Yet . . . Becauseyou were a cadet. Oh, we know, " as Hanlon started to protest hotly, "allabout your being kicked out. We can see how all that might well havesoured you enough so you will really do anything you can to get ahead, even if only to show the Corps. But you can understand our hesitation, Ithink. "

"Of course, sir. But you needn't worry. " He made his voice as bitter andhard as he could. "I've had my fill of all that law and order stuff. Iwas an innocent young punk, full of high ideals and the romance of theCorps and all that bunk. But those mangy slime-snakes knocked all thatout of me. Anything I can do that'll give 'em a kick in the teeth I'lldo with joy and gusto!"

"Fine words, " snapped the leader, "but can you take it if the going getstough?"

Hanlon was learning fast. Now he stared straight back into those hardeyes. 

"Can you dish it out, Mister?" his tone was almost, but not quite, insolent. 

Chapter 11

A black look suffused the leader's face at Hanlon's impertinent "can youdish it out, Mister?" He half-rose from his seat, while the other fourmen reached quick hands towards their weapons. 

Then slowly the man sank back, relaxed, and smiled--an open, friendlysmile of genuine cordiality, and his men also relaxed. 

"You'll do, Hanlon, by the great . . . Uh . . . Zeus, you'll do! But, " headded significantly, "I think you will find that I can 'dish it out', asyou call it, if the need ever arises. You had better pray it neverdoes. "

"Fair enough, " Hanlon shrugged indifferently. 

"The boys will take you out and show you the town, if you like, " theleader smiled engagingly. "They will get word to you when I have a jobready, which may be in a day or two. "

Hanlon thanked him, and felt it policy to go out with "the boys, " eventhough he did not particularly care to do so. Nor did he especiallyenjoy the night that followed. 

He had left a ten o'clock call with the hotel's visiphone operator whenhe got back to the hotel at last. When she called he groggily opened oneeye half way, and fumbled for the toggle-switch. 

"H'lo. "

"Ten o'clock of a fine morning, Mr. Hanlon. "

"Oh, no!" he groaned. 

"Oh, yes, " she giggled. "That bad, is it?"

"Worse'n that. But thanks anyway . . . I guess. "

She was laughing heartily as she disconnected. 

Hanlon groaned with the utter misery of a hugely-distorted, throbbinghead. The sunlight pouring through an open window directly into his eyesdid not help any. He rolled over petulantly, but knew he had to get up. 

He stumbled out of bed and went in to stand under a cold shower. Tenminutes later he began to feel a little more human, and decided maybe hewould live after all. 

"Never again!" he swore fervently. "I'm just not cut out for seriousdrinking. Hope I didn't give anything away to those guys last night. "

He dressed slowly, meanwhile striving as best his aching head would lethim, to review his situation. He was fairly well pleased with hissuccess to date, but the grue of fear was still with him. He was gettingpart way where he wanted to be, but . . . This was certainly no picnic hewas muscling into. He remembered his father's injunction to take it easyat first, and grimaced wrily. 

Eating breakfast in the hotel dining room, after taking an effervescentto relieve his headache, he tried to plan his next moves. There wasn'tmuch he could do, he decided, until they called him. He had made hisbid--it wouldn't do to try to push himself too much, or it would lookmighty fishy to those sharp minds. 

He shuddered again, involuntarily, thinking about that enigmatic leader. Who . . . Or what . . . Was he?

Hanlon went first to the bank, and made out a card for his own box. Butonce in the vault, and the attendant gone out, it was box 1044 heopened. There was a note for him. 

"Welcome to Simonides, " he read. "My name--here--is Art Georgopoulis. Iwork at present as a bartender at the Golden Web, on Thermopylae street. The high-ups in the underworld hang out there, and I pick up occasionalbits of news. If you come in, introduce yourself by asking for 'a goodold Kentucky mint-julep, ' Practically no one ever asks for those. I'mthe blond, skinny one at the far end of the bar. If I can be of anyhelp, just yell. Me, I haven't got to first check station yet--but I'mstill in there punching. Hope you do better--Curt Hooper. "

Hanlon "ate" the note, then wrote one of his own, telling what he hadlearned to date, what he suspicioned, and what he was trying to do. Ofhis new mental powers he said nothing. He did not distrust this SS man, of course, but if the fellow didn't know he couldn't be made to tell. 

As Hanlon left the bank he began to get the feeling he was beingtrailed, but could not seem to locate anyone doing it, although he didnot dare search to his rear very carefully. Neither could he catch anydefinite thoughts about such a thing from among the welter ofthought-sensations on the crowded streets. 

He wandered about most of the day, frankly sight-seeing--but his mindwas always open. He went into various public buildings, sat for sometime in one or another of the numerous parks whenever he felt a bittired of walking. 

That feeling of being watched made him cautious, so he did not practicemuch with his mind-control on any of the pigeon-like birds! He did, however, make a trip to the local zoo, and as he paused momentarily infront of each of the cages to look at the exhibit it contained, hebriefly made an excursion into the mind of each different type ofanimal, bird or rodent. Outside of minor differences of texture, theyall seemed about the same. Each of them had, naturally, differentmuscular abilities that would need considerable study if he everintended using one of them. 

And every minute he was seeking, searching for any tiniest thread ofevidence as to what it was that was causing this undercurrent of secretintrigue that was so plainly evident to his super-sensitive mind. 

But there was no factual data to be learned. Only that "feel" of it inthe very air. Yet as the day wore on he came to believe that much ormost of what he sensed was not that plot which was causing the Corpsconcern. Rather, it seemed more as though all the people here wereengaged in some sort of secret aggressiveness. 

And it was finally forced into his consciousness that it was "business, "not "politics. " For it was well-known that Simonides, even though it hadbecome the Federation's wealthiest world, was not yet satisfied . . . Thatits merchants and traders wanted to capture more and still more of theSystem's business. 

There were far too many minds engaged in aggressive thoughts for apolitical revolution, he felt sure. If it was this wide-spread, surelyothers of the Corps of the Secret Service would have found out somethingdefinite about it. No, whatever this was, it distinctly was not what hewas here to find. 

The feeling that he was being spied upon was always more or lesspresent, but he could not spot the man or men who were watching him. Either several were working in short shifts, or else the trailer kept sofar behind him that the multiplicity of thoughts from the hundreds ofpeople always around masked those of the spy. 

Hanlon ate a leisurely lunch in a small restaurant, and during theafternoon continued his apparently-aimless sight-seeing. If they wereshadowing him, they would have nothing to report, he grinned. Not duringthe day, at least. What the evening would bring forth would perhaps beanother matter. 

For he had determined to at least get in touch with the SS man who hadwritten that note. He would have dinner at the Golden Web, if theyserved meals. If not, he would have a drink anyway. The two mencertainly should know each other by sight. 

He went briefly to the hotel, but there had been no calls for him. So hetook a ground-cab to the cafe, which turned out to be a pretentious, garish one. Inside he made his way to that part of the long, busy barpresided over by a slim, blond man. 

Hanlon climbed onto a stool. "Gimme a good old Kentucky mint-julep, suh, " he demanded, "an' be doggoned suah it's made right. "

The bartender eyed him peculiarly. "Where's this Kentucky and what's amint-julep?"

"On Terra, of course, where I came from. Where'd you think it was, onAndromeda Seven?"

"Pardon me, sir. I seem to remember now, having heard of such a drink. I'll have to look it up in the recipe-book--I disremember theingredients. "

Hanlon grinned and lost his appearance of truculence. "It's partly madeof Blue Grass, like a 'horse's neck. ' But if it's too much trouble, justgive me a Cola. "

The barkeep grinned, too. "I gotcha, Steve, " and poured out the softdrink. 

Hanlon sat sipping his innocuous drink, looking about him quietly. Alarge-sized crowd was beginning to fill the place--well-dressed, evidently fairly prosperous people, but he could see that they were notthe real upper-class, but the slightly-off-shade climbers. 

His drink finished Hanlon signalled his friendly barman. "The grub hereany good? This looks like a nice place. "

"Yes, it is. One often hears some interesting things here. As for thefood, it is very good, and not too expensive. They have a native fowlmuch like chicken I think you'd like. Ask for _poyka_, in whatever styleyou like it fixed. Glad to be of service, sir, any time, in any way. "The last words were slightly emphasized. 

Hanlon had ordered and was waiting for his food when a man he had neverseen before slipped into the seat opposite him. 

"The Boss wants to see you. "

"Yeah?" Hanlon looked him up and down almost contemptuously. "Just whois this 'boss' who's interested in me?"

"Cut the clowning. You know who. At the Bacchus. Now!"

"So. " Hanlon let himself appear slightly interested. "Well, after I getthrough eating, if nothing else shows up to interest me more, I mightdrop over. "

"You'd better, and mighty quick, too!" the man snapped, although it wasapparent he was puzzled by Hanlon's manner. "He don't like to be keptwaiting. "

"And I don't like to be hurried--or ordered about!" Hanlon snapped back. "If I come, and notice I said 'if, ' I'll be there in about an hour. Now, do you mind? I like to enjoy my food. "

The man rose, still with that perplexed expression. It was evident hewas not used to people not jumping when his "Boss" issuedinvitations--which were really commands. He shook his head slowly. "Ihope for your sake he's in a good humor, " he said as he left. 

Hanlon's mind was not too easy as he ate swiftly, and his relish of theexcellent food was not as keen as it might have been but for thisinterruption. He shivered, remembering that cold ruthlessness he hadsensed behind that leader's suave manner. But he had to play out hisstring as a somewhat brash youngster who wasn't afraid of anybody oranything. He had made a clean score with that reckless "can you dish itout, Mister?" but he had better not press his luck too far. 

Thus it was only about half an hour later when he presented himself atthe Bacchus. 

"You took your time coming, " the leader looked at Hanlon curiously. 

"I was hungry, " Hanlon answered simply. "I'd just ordered dinner whenyour message was delivered. I came as soon as I'd finished. "

"Those who work for me usually . . . Uh . . . Come running when I call. "

Hanlon grinned wolfishly. "Maybe they're afraid of you. "

"And you aren't?"

"Should I be?"

"I don't like impudence or insolence, " the voice was more curt and theeyes lost some of their calmness in a flash of anger. 

Hanlon knew he had gone far enough for the time being, so instantlybecame less brash, more apologetic. 

"If I take your job if you offer me one, sir, I'll obey all orderspromptly, and I'll give you everything I've got, naturally. But I'm notone of your snivelling toadies. "

The leader regarded him once more with silent appraisal, in which ameasure of respect, or at least approval, seemed to show. Hanlon, probing the other minds present, was secretly amused at theirastonishment at his temerity . . . And the fact that he was getting awaywith it. 

After long moments the leader nodded his head, as though he had reacheda decision. 

"What were you doing in the bank this morning?"

"Why, just depositing some of my stuff in a safety deposit box, " hesaid, surprised. "Why?"

"How did you get your own box so quickly?"

"What do you mean so quickly? I went in yesterday and asked if one wasavailable, and the girl clerk signed me up for it, and said I could getentry today. "

"Oh, I see. I was told it was done like you already had a boxand . . . Uh . . . Wondered about it. "

Hanlon reached in his pocket and threw a key onto the desk "Go look init for yourself if you think it's important. And incidentally, " he saidcontemptuously, "I've known all day long I was being shadowed. " But wasinstantly sorry he had said that last. 

For there came a deadly coldness in the leader's tone, and a gleam inthose hard eyes that boded ill for someone. "I see. Well, let it pass. "He pushed the key back toward Hanlon, who pocketed it thankfully. Hisbluff had worked. This was the key to his own box, of course; his masterkey was in a hidden pocket in the cuff of his trousers. 

The leader sank back into his chair and was silent for long minutes, thinking deeply, while Hanlon waited patiently, still trying to get someglimmering of thought from that unreadable mind, still frustrated almostto the point of despair that he couldn't. 

Finally the man spoke, but not to Hanlon. "Panek, you and the others gofind Rellos and bring him here. "

When they were alone, the leader leaned forward and spoke earnestlyto Hanlon, yet watching him carefully as he did so. "I like you, Hanlon, and I'm going to test you out. I am not too sure of you, yet, but if I become so, you can go far--very, very far with me. ThisRellos I sent for is the man who was shadowing you today. I cannot--I_will not_!" he spat venomously, "abide failure or incompetence. I amassigning you the pleasant little task of seeing that some sort ofan . . . Uh . . . Accident happens to Rellos. And as I think about it, itmight as well be a . . . Uh . . . Permanent one. "

Hanlon's stomach curled up so tightly it hurt, but he strove manfullynot to let his feelings show in his face. He'd had an instant's inklingof what the proposal was going to be, and it was a measure of hisstability that he succeeded in keeping his mask up. 

He knew starkly that this time he would have to go through with akilling, or else give up this line of research. For he knew that if hedid not kill this man, this way was closed to him. And if he droppedout, but gave the tip to some other SS man, that one would eventuallyface the same sort of a task. So, much as it sickened him even tocontemplate it, it now became a _must_! He would have to think ofhimself as a soldier in war, and Rellos an enemy. 

Outwardly calm, he shrugged indifferently. "Any guy that can't produceisn't worth keeping, " he said. "Any special way you want it done?"

"No . . . I think I would like to see how you work. Plan it yourself. Butif it isn't done, you had better not let me or my men see you again. "

"Fair enough. If I can't do a simple job like that I sure can't be ofenough value to you to do myself any real good. "

They were silent again, but Hanlon's mind was bleak with what was tocome. He wasn't the killer type--he believed in the sacredness of humanlife. Yet he knew he would have to steel himself to go through with it. The job was more important than one man's life. But to kill in coldblood--a deliberate, planned-out murder!

Just then Panek returned with a slender, middle-aged man. 

"Ah, Rellos, " the leader greeted him. "I want you to meet a new memberof our group, George Hanlon. He has just come from Terra, and has neverbeen on Simonides before. I would like you to take him out and show himNew Athens and what it contains in the way of pleasures. You can turn inan account of your expenses tomorrow. "

And _that_, thought Hanlon, was just about as low and slimy a trick ashe had ever heard, and the thought came and would not be denied, that ifit was this leader he was to kill he could do it cheerfully and with aclear conscience. 

He rose, though, and smiled as he held out his hand. "Glad to know you, Rellos. It'll be fun comparing your amusements with those of Terra. "

The man was somewhat sullen, although it was plain he did not dare showit too much before their boss. Hanlon could read enough from the newman's mind to know how deathly afraid he was of the leader, and how hehated him. 

"Wonder why he's in this, feeling that way?" Hanlon thought swiftly, andduring the evening tried to find out, but without success--the mansteered clear of any such thoughts. 

As the two went outside, the Simonidean asked curtly, "Wine, women orsong?"

"Why not some of all three?" Hanlon laughed lightly. "Anything you thinkwould be a lively evening, and that you'd enjoy. "

The other unbent a little. "We'll go to the Phobos first, then. Theyhave good liquor and a nice floor show. Good looking wenches who don'twear too much. "

He hailed a ground-cab, which the two entered. 

Hanlon couldn't enjoy that evening. In the first place, he couldn'tditch all his drinks--and he hated alcohol--yet had to remain as soberas possible. Second, and most disturbing, was that horrible thing he hadto do, and he knew it must be carefully planned. A gun, knife or poisoncouldn't be used now--it must look so much like an accident that nopossible blame could be attached to him; so that the police could nothold him even for a short time. 

He thought of and discarded one plan after another, then rememberedsomething seen during his wanderings--a pedestrian bridge crossing ahigh-speed truckway where the inter-city freighters were so numerousthey ran almost bumper to bumper. "I'll lead him up there, then throwhim over and down. He's sure to be run over and killed. "

The nakedness of the girls at the Phobos, the coarse jokes of theso-called comedians, the raucous, ribald laughter of the drunken patronsdisgusted Hanlon, and he was glad when they left. 

"Let's walk a bit and see the sights, " he suggested, and Rellos agreedafter some argument--he wanted to visit more night clubs. 

They had walked a couple of blocks along a residential street when alittle, roly-poly puppy waddled out onto the sidewalk to greet them. 

"What a cute . . . " Hanlon began, but with an oath, Rellos savagely andviciously kicked the little mite, sending it howling with pain acrossthe low hedge. 

A growl of anguish broke out, and Hanlon sent his mind searching forthat deeper note. He found it, the mother dog, and was instantly insidethat mind, controlling it. 

With a leap the huge shepherd was over the hedge, straight at Rellos. The dog's weight bore the man backward, fighting for his life, trying tohold back those gleaming fangs straining for his throat. 

Hanlon threw himself into the melee, but while ostensibly trying to dragthe dog away, delayed the few seconds it took for those slashing fangsto rip out Rellos' throat. 

People came running up, and as the first reached the spot they sawHanlon struggling to hold back the snarling, blood-flecked dog, whileRellos lay dead in a pool of blood. 

The dog's owner rushed up and snapped a leash on the dog. 

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, " Hanlon said. "My companion was drunk andkicked her puppy. She merely avenged it. "

"I wondered, " the man was shaken. "Kaiserina never was vicious before. "

"I don't think she will be again, " Hanlon said soothingly. "Is the puppyall right?" he asked the small boy who came up with the little animalcradled in his arms. 

"No, " the boy sobbed, "Fluffy's dead. "

"What's going on here?" an authoritative voice said, and two policemenpushed their way through the quickly-gathered crowd. 

The dog's owner explained in swift words, and completely exoneratedHanlon. "This man tried to stop my dog; he was holding her back when Igot here, " and others corroborated his statement. 

"You'd better have the dog killed, " the policeman said, but Hanlonintervened. 

"No, she was just striking back at the man who killed her puppy. Shewasn't to blame, and I'm sure she isn't vicious. "

The police were finally satisfied, and while they were calling thedead-wagon Hanlon walked slowly back to his hotel, his heart still sickbut consoled a bit. 

"He had it coming to him, " his thought was bitter. "The rottenbeast--kicking a little puppy like that!"

Chapter 12

The next evening Hanlon went back to the Bacchus. Instead of stopping atthe bar he went directly to the back room and knocked on the door. 

When the peephole opened he asked, "The Boss in?"

"Nope. "

"I've got a report to make. "

"Wait at the bar. I'll get in touch. "

A quarter hour later the man summoned him, and upon entering thatnow-familiar room Hanlon saw a closet door was standing open, disclosinga visiphone screen, on which the leader's face was visible. 

"Well?"

"Yep. "

"Ah!" There was a quick intake of breath, and a feral gleam in thosegreenish eyes. A moment's silence, then "Do you still want thatoverseer's job?"

"For a thousand a month and keep? Definitely!"

"Very well, we'll try you. Zeller will give you a list of things you'llneed there--special clothing and such. Uh . . . Got any money to buy thoseyou don't have?"

"I will have when you pay me Rellos' expense money for last night. "

The leader's eyes narrowed in sudden anger. "Don't try my patience toofar, Hanlon. "

"Okay, " Hanlon shrugged indifferently. "But I never figured you for acheapskate. "

There was a gasp, as though the leader was amazed at Hanlon's temerity. But he quickly gained control of himself, and an instant later begansmiling, then grinning and finally laughing aloud . . . At himself. 

"By Zeus, Hanlon, I like you! Nobody else ever dared talk up to me likethat. You win. Tell Zeller . . . No, put him on, I'll tell him . . . Zeller, give Hanlon the list of things needed for the mine-guard job, and payhim a hundred credits, charged to the 'accident fund'. Tell him to behere, all packed to go, at thirteen o'clock. " He started to turn the setoff, then, as he heard Hanlon ask "Anything else now?" faced the screenagain. 

"Not unless you want to make rounds with the boys again. It will be sometime before you can have any night-life. "

Hanlon made a sign of distaste and shook his head. "Unh-uh, thanks. Twobig-heads in a row will last me for plenty time. I'll go get someshut-eye. "

The leader smiled companionably. "The rest might be best, for you'llhave a rather rough trip. You'll ride a freighter, not a luxury liner. "

"Do I ask where I'm going?"

"Does it matter?"

Hanlon shrugged. "Not especially. Just curiosity. "

"Then it won't particularly bother you if we . . . Uh . . . Keep yourdestination a secret for a while?"

"Not in the least, if you want it that way, " he yawned indifferently. But his mind was so anxious he had trouble not letting it show in hisface or eyes. How was he to get that location? He thought swiftly, andconceived a possibility. 

"Your bar here serve Cola?"

"What is that?"

"A soft drink very popular on Terra and many other planets. I'd like totake a case with me, if it's allowed. "

"I see no reason against it. I never heard of it, but you might ask thebargirls. "

"I can get it at the Golden Web if you don't have it here. I had somethere the other night. "

He watched carefully but there was no sign of suspicion; the leader didnot even seem interested. 

Hanlon blanked the screen, got the list and money from Zeller, andwalked out. The Bacchus did not stock Cola, so he took a ground-cab tothe Golden Web. 

Pretending half-drunkenness, he walked in and ordered the case of drinkfrom his colleague. While drinking a glass of it, he talked in more orless garrulous tones. In between unimportant words he informed the SSman bartender that he was leaving the next noon for another planet whosename and location he hadn't yet been able to learn. 

"Got a good boss, though, " he mumbled thickly. "Very good boss--sure heknows a lot. Headquarters at the Bacchus. "

Hooper, quick of understanding as all SS men have to be, merely saidaloud the conventional "Safe Flights, " but Hanlon knew he would doeverything he could to get that planetary information. 

And Hanlon was well content as he went to the hotel and to bed. Whatcould be done, had been done. 

As soon as he had breakfasted the next morning, Hanlon checked out ofhis hotel, then went out and purchased the special clothing and otheritems on his list. With everything packed in traveling cases, hepresented himself at the Bacchus just before thirteen o'clock. 

As he got out of the cab, and gave orders to the doorman about keepinghis luggage until he was ready to leave, Hanlon was heartened to seeHooper, apparently reading a newsheet, leaning against theterrace-facade nearby. 

In the back room the leader and three others, including the ubiquitousPanek, were waiting for him. He was handed an envelope. 

"When you arrive, give these credentials to Peter Philander, thesuperintendent. He will be your boss there. Just do as he says, don'tget nosey about what is going on, and you will do all right. "

"Don't worry about my keeping my nose clean. I'm taking along a dozenextra hankies. "

His last doubts about leaving Simonides to go to the unknown planet werenow at rest. He was sure that there he would find the leads he sodesperately needed--and probably only there could he get them. 

They picked up his luggage, then all got into a large, black ground-car, and as it started the men lowered curtains over the windows. And whileHanlon was wondering about that, one of them pinned his arms suddenly tohis side while another slapped a piece of adhesive across his eyes, smoothing it tightly into place. 

Hanlon gasped, but did not struggle. 

"That's right, don't fight it, " the leader's voice was almost kind. "Wejust don't want you knowing where we are going . . . Yet. "

 * * * * *

The car travelled some miles, then stopped and they all got out. The menhelped Hanlon down, led him a few dozen steps, then helped him climbinto another machine. In a moment he realized they were now in an aircarthat had taken off, and he frowned. Assuming that Hooper had followed, he'd be out of it now. He was on his own. 

For several moments Hanlon tried in vain to read from the others' mindswhere they were going. He had almost given up hope when he heard theunmistakable panting of a small dog, and realized that one of the aircrew must have brought a pet. 

Quickly his mind contacted that of the dog, and instantly was inside it, looking out through the dog's eyes. He controlled its mind so that itclimbed up in the man's lap and, with its forepaws on the fellow'sshoulder, looked out of the aircar's window. No one seemed to findanything peculiar in the dog's actions, its owner merely patting it asit stood there, as Hanlon could feel through the dog's senses. 

Now Hanlon could see they were nearing some mountains, and tookparticular notice of everything that might be remembered as a landmark. Soon they were settling down into a little hidden valley, where therewas a fairly large space-freighter. 

They led him into this ship, and he lost the dog, so could not see justwhere they were taking him. Finally he sensed they were in a small room, and the adhesive was ripped from his face. 

The leader and Panek stood in the small cabin with Hanlon. 

"This is to be your cabin. Sorry for the precautions, but you can seewhy, I am sure. But if you behave, and make a good record, you won'thave to . . . Uh . . . Worry about them any more. Take-off almostimmediately, so we have to leave. Safe flights, and I hope you make outall right. "

He looked fixedly at Hanlon for a long, long minute, and the young man, returned his gaze as steadily. 

"I'll do my job, " Hanlon said honestly after that moment--but it was hisjob for the Secret Service he meant. "Good-bye, and thanks. Thank you, too, Panek, for your help. "

"Glad to've done it, Pal, glad to. "

"See you in four months, then, " and the two left. 

Hanlon stored his luggage in the racks made for it, then started to gooutside and see what was going on. But the door was locked. 

"They sure don't want me to know where we're going, " he grinned ruefullyas he sat down on the edge of his bunk. "That makes me know it'simportant, and I'll get it some day--they can't keep it from meforever. "

Sirens screamed "take-off, " and he strapped himself into his bunk. Whenhe felt the pressure subside and knew they were in space he unstrappedand relaxed. But there was nothing he could do. 

Later there was the sound of a key in the lock. When the door opened aheavy-set man carrying a blaster stepped inside. 

"Stand back, Bud, and keep your hands in sight. "

Hanlon raised his hands while the messcook brought in a tray and set iton his bunk. As they were going out Hanlon spoke. "You got any books onboard? I don't mind being locked in and won't make any trouble, butplease give me something to do. "

They made no answer, but when they returned for the empty dishes theyleft a couple of dog-eared magazines. 

Late the following afternoon the siren warned of landing, and Hanlonstrapped himself down again. After he had felt the landing, one of theship's officers came and unlocked the door. 

He was very apologetic. "Sorry, sir, about this, but we had our orders. "

"It's okay with me, " Hanlon said cheerfully. "Don't make a bit ofdifference with me where I am, long's I get well paid. "

"I see you've put on your light clothing. That's good--this is a hotplanet. These your bags?"

Hanlon nodded, and each carrying one, the officer led the way to theairlock and they climbed down onto this new world. 

The air was thick and muggy--at least 110° Fahrenheit, Hanlon guessed. There was a great bustle of activity on the landing field. Automaticmachinery was unloading cargo, and loading it into trucks. There wereseveral men, with their luggage, standing about. 

One was a huge, brutish-looking man, another a slender young chap aboutHanlon's own age, apparently well-educated, from his manner, but with acertain shiftiness in his eyes; the others common-place laborers. 

"Any of you been here before?" the officer asked. 

Two of the others nodded, and started away from the field. Hanlon sawthat just beyond the edge of it there were heavy forests--almost ajungle, but strange and alien. 

As they drew nearer and finally entered it, the young SS man saw thatthis was, indeed, unlike any jungle or forest he had ever seen or heardabout. Tall trees whose branches writhed as though alive, yet neverattacked one. Underbrush so thick it seemed impassable, yet whichtwisted away from their approach as though afraid of a contaminatingtouch, only to swish back into place as soon as the men passed. 

Hanlon, walking along and taking it all in, seemed to catch faintwhispers of thought, but could make nothing of it. He wondered what itwas--perhaps some alien animal-life very low in the scale?

The ground was soft and mucky. The young checker cautioned the others, "Don't step off the path; some of this stuff's almost like quicksand. "

"There's a road to the mine, " he answered Hanlon's further question, "but it's winding and about five miles, where this path's only a halfmile. Ground here won't stand heavy loads. "

"How big is this planet, anyway? Gravity seems about like Simonides andTerra. "

"It's not quite as large, but seems composed mainly of heavier metals orsomething. Gravity about . 93. The weather stays about the same all year'round; very few storms of any kind, although there's a hot rain almostevery night for about half an hour. The temperature goes down to about90 at night; up to 110-115 days. "

"No wonder they told me to buy light clothing. "

"Yeah, it's sure hot. We'd go mostly naked, except the actinic's reallyfierce. Be sure to wear a hat all the time outdoors, and light gloves. If your eyes start to smart, wear dark goggles. "

"Thanks for the tips, Chum, I appreciate 'em. I'd begun to notice skinitching, but thought it might be this jungle. "

They broke through the final wall of foliage and Hanlon saw a largecleared space ahead that must have been roughly a half-mile across. There were quite a number of buildings, mostly windowless, and hedecided they were storehouses. 

"There's the messhall, " his new-found friend pointed. 

They went on to another long, low, bungalow-type building, inside whichHanlon saw a long hall from which opened dozens of doors on either side. The other men disappeared into one or another of the rooms, and theyoung fellow stopped at another door. "Grab the first room that has akey in the lock outside, " he said. "They're all alike. "

The SS man found one, with the number "17" on the door, and went in. Theroom was small but comfortably furnished. The bed had a good mattress, he found, and white linen sheets and a thin, fleecy blanket folded onthe foot. There was a big easy chair, a closet for his clothes and adresser with four drawers. Glo-lights were set in the ceiling, and therewas another on a standard by the big chair for easy reading. A dooropened into another room which proved to be a compact toilet and shower. Everything was immaculately clean, and the air was cooled and sweet fromair-conditioning. 

"Not bad, not bad at all, " Hanlon said half-aloud as he unpacked andstored his things. Then he took a shower. "Man, are you going to getplenty of work-outs, in this heat, " he apostrophised the shower, thankfully. Dressing again, he went out to locate Peter Philander, hisnew boss. 

He stopped at the messhall, and there he found the cook, a jolly, roly-poly sort of man. He introduced himself and they chatted for a fewminutes. 

"I'm going to like this guy--hope they're all as nice and friendly, "Hanlon thought. "Where's the super's office?" he asked, and the cookpointed it out. 

Entering the office-shack, Hanlon found himself in a fairly large roomwith a number of desks and several drafting boards with blue-prints anddrawings pinned on them. Behind one of the larger desks was a heavy-setman with a great, angry scar across his left cheek and neck, runningfrom the bridge of the nose to below the ear. 

Something about the man brought a sense of distrust to Hanlon--perhapshis looks, for that terrible scar made him look like a blood-thirstypirate. 

Hanlon discreetly let none of these things show in his voice or demeanoras he stepped forward, a smile on his face and his credentials in hishand. "Mr. Philander, sir? I'm George Hanlon, a new guard. "

The other nodded without a word, and snatched at the papers, glaring atHanlon in a squinting, suspicious manner. 

Hanlon probed toward the mind behind that frown, and could sense afeeling of fear, suspicion and unrest. He caught a fragment ofthought--"another one after my job?"--and in a flash of inspirationguessed what was wrong. This superintendent must have a terribleinferiority complex, which that disfiguring scar certainly didn't help. He was undoubtedly competent, or he would not be here, but felt everynew man was a possible challenge or replacement. 

Knowing that his papers made no mention of his having been a cadet, Hanlon took a chance on a course of action. "Gee, Mr. Philander, sir, Ienvy you, " he said the moment the man looked up. "Knowing all aboutmetals and ores and mining and stuff like that. I sure wish I'd had thechance to learn something valuable like that. But me, I guess I'm just a'strong back; weak mind' sort of guy. "

The superintendent looked at him piercingly for a long moment, as thoughtrying to decide whether this was genuine or subtle sarcasm. He musthave decided it was the former, for he relaxed a bit. "Yeah, " he growledin a deep bass that seemed meant to be pleasant now. "It takes a lot ofstudy and a good mind to learn what I know. Very few men can make thegrade. "

And Hanlon, who was by necessity swiftly becoming a good judge ofcharacter, knew he had this man pegged, and that while he would bedangerous if crossed, could be handled adroitly. 

"Just what will my duties be, sir? Or have you delegated the handling ofus guards to some lesser man?"

"No, I handle 'em myself. 'If you want a job well done, do it yourself', you know. I'll take you out and show you around. Are you all settled andcomfortable?"

"Oh, yes, sir. I have a very nice room, number 17, and am all unpacked. Hunting your office I ran into the messhall, and Cookie told me aboutmeal hours. I'm sure I'll get along fine here--as much as this awfulheat'll let me. They sure weren't kidding when they said it was hothere. And I want to assure you, sir, that I'll work hard and tendstrictly to business--nothing else. "

The superintendent was becoming more mollified and less fearful by thesecond. Now he actually smiled, a rather pitiful travesty of a smile, and Hanlon's sympathy went out to him. 

"Then we'll get along fine, " Philander said. "Just remember that yourjob is only to keep the natives at work during your shift, and that inyour off hours you do not go hunting 'round into things that're none ofyour business. "

"Oh, naturally, sir. You just list what limits I'm to keep in, and I'llstay there. All I'm after here is that thousand credits a month, and asbig a bonus as I can earn. You see, " with engaging frankness, "I'm a guythat wants to make his pile as quick as possible, so I won't have towork all my life. I've got to work to get 'em, sure, but I don't aim towork forever. "

"Hmmpfff" Philander rose from behind the desk. "Come on, I'll show youaround. "

Chapter 13

For an hour Superintendent Philander escorted George Hanlon about thediggings, showing him the various buildings and the workers' stockade. ("Prison" would be a better word, Hanlon thought, enraged that therewere still men who would enslave others for their own personal gain. )

The young Earthman got a real shock of surprise at his first sight ofthe native. They were so entirely different from anything he had eversuspected might exist. They were tall and slender, and theirgreenish-brown skin was rough and irregular. They seemed possessed ofconsiderable wiry strength, however. 

Hanlon had the peculiar feeling that they were somehow familiar, asthough related to something he already knew, even though they were soalien. But, strain as he might, he could not at first bring that elusivethought into recognition. 

He examined more particularly each item of the natives' appearance. Theyhad small triangular eyes, wide-spaced on their narrow faces, almostlike a bird's yet not set quite as far back. They could see forward andsomewhat to either side, he guessed, with a much wider range of visionthan humans have. They also had triangular-shaped mouths which workedsomewhat on the sphincter method. Even though their faces were sort ofsilly-looking, there was somehow a strange beauty to them. 

He noticed that when two or more faced each other they often workedtheir mouths, and guessed they were conversing, although not a soundcould be heard coming from them, other than a peculiar, faint rustlingas they moved. 

It was the latter that gave him the clue. _Animated trees!_ That'swhat they reminded him of. That skin of theirs was like new bark; theirlimbs were irregular, suggesting the branches of a tree, rather than thegraceful roundness of human and Terran animal's limbs. 

He turned excitedly to Philander. "Hey, those natives are partlyvegetable, aren't they? Like trees that can move and think?"

"That's what they say, " Philander said shortly, "though I don't knowabout the 'think' part. No one's ever been able to figure 'em out. Theydon't talk, and can't seem to hear us, no matter how loud we yell. Wehave to show 'em everything we want 'em to do, and give 'em orders bysigns. Whips don't do any good when they loaf--they don't seem to feel'em. So we use electric shock-rods, like you see that guard therecarrying. "

Hanlon was silent for several moments, but his mind was attempting toprobe into that of the native nearest him. Nor was he surprised todiscover that this native had a really respectable mind--alert and keen. 

Hanlon could read quite easily pictures of various things--but he couldnot interpret them. Yet he could feel their sense of shame anddegradation at such an enslaved condition, and the dull anger they feltfor the humans who had made them so. 

This promised to be a fertile field for study, and the young SS man felta thrill that he could do a lot of prowling and studying without seemingto break the rules Philander had laid down for his conduct. "Thiscertainly is my field, " he thought. "I'm sure glad I decided to take thechance of coming here--the Corps must learn of this situation. "

The superintendent broke in on his thoughts. "I've got to go back to theoffice before dinner. Go to the commissary store, there, and get yourchronom exchanged for one that runs on Algonian time. Yours will bestored for safekeeping and changed back if or when you leave here. "

As he walked away Hanlon thrilled to the knowledge that he had gainedtwo valuable pieces of information. 

First, and most important, the name of this planet--Algon. Second, butthis one a bit dismaying, that there might be some doubt as to whetheror not he would ever leave here. Was there some danger here of which hehad not been told . . . Or was it that the leader's promise of fourmonths' work and then a vacation back to Simonides perhaps meant nothingat all--was merely a "come on"?

It was more than the perspiration from the terrible heat that dampenedHanlon's skin as he walked thoughtfully over to the store. Yet hetingled with the knowledge that at least he knew where he was. Now, hisonly worry was getting that knowledge to the Corps. 

At dinner a little later he had his first chance to meet all the menwith whom he would be working. The superintendent introduced them, allaround when they sat down at the long table. 

There were eleven other guards, all older, all bigger men than he. Theywere alike in that all appeared to be swaggering bullies, and he couldwell imagine how ready they were with the use of those shock-rods, orother forms of brutality, to torture the Algonians at the leastprovocation or no provocation whatever. Without exception these guardshad heavy faces, most of them unshaven, and most with thick, shaggyeyebrows. Even in that air-cooled room their generally unwashedcondition was noticeable. 

Hanlon knew instinctively he would make no friends among them. "I onlyhope I make no enemies. Why was I, so drastically different from them, chosen as a guard? What's that leader got in his devious mind, anyway?"

There were four mining engineers, and these men were keen, alertfellows. One seemed about forty-five, another in his late thirties, andthe two others young men evidently not long out of school. They wereclean-shaven, and friendly where the guards were surly and sneering atHanlon's youth and slimness. 

There was an accountant, the store clerk, two checkers who tallied orebrought up each shift. A half dozen others, who apparently were truckmenand hoistmen, completed, with Philander, the cook and the bunkhousecleaner, the human crew at this mine. 

Hanlon had been seated between one of the guards, a huge man by the nameof Groton, and one of the young engineers. The latter made him welcome, and asked where he came from. 

"I'd just moved to Simonides when I got the chance to come here, " Hanlonexplained. "I was born and raised on Terra. "

"Terra!" the young man's voice was interested, and several others aboutthe table raised their heads at that name. "I've always wanted to seethe Mother World. "

When all had finished eating, several of the other men who had neverseen Terra moved closer to Hanlon, asking many questions. 

"I understand Terra has the best technicians in the universe, " one ofthe hoistmen said. 

"That used to be the case, " Hanlon answered honestly, "but now Iunderstand Simonides has, just as she is the wealthiest planet. Ofcourse, Terra being the original world, was bound to have the best therace could breed in all lines of endeavor. But when so many peoplemigrated to other planets, she gradually lost many of her finest brains. Later, those other planets offered such fabulous wages to men and womenwith skills and trainings her first inhabitants lacked, that Terra wasfurther drained. "

"That's the pity of colonization, " the elder engineer sighed. "It buildsnew lands at the expense of the old, taking all their strongest, mostadventurous and most imaginative. Soon the original country or continentor planet is peopled only by the dregs. "

"I don't like to think Terra has only dregs left. After all, I came fromthere, you know, " Hanlon grinned and they smiled back companionably. "But I know you're right in part--at least, that will probably be thecase in time. Just as it will with the other planets as their best andyounger top-notchers go out to open up still more worlds. "

In the middle of that first night on Algon something, perhaps hissub-conscious, brought George Hanlon wide awake, his every mentalfaculty clear and alert. 

Click! Click! Click! . . . Like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle falling intoplace, many of the odds and ends of apparently unrelated information andexperience fell into place in this enigma. 

He remembered clearly now, an incident that had merely brought amomentary wonder at the time. Those last minutes before the ship tookoff. The leader had stared long and piercingly into his eyes and Hanlon, wondering and puzzled as to what the man was seeking, merely stared backdumbly. Now he remembered the flashing thought--quickly dismissed asridiculous--that even if he did find out where he was going, he mustnever tell anyone; must forget it entirely and instantly on pain ofsevere torture. 

Why, that leader must have been trying to implant a hypnotic compulsionin his mind . . . And must have thought he succeeded, else Hanlon wouldnever have reached here alive. That was why he could never read thatknowledge from the mind of any of the people he had contacted who werein on this game--not even that ship's officer, who certainly should haveknown. 

But wait a minute. What about Philander? He knew. Hadn't the hypnosisworked on him? Or was that name "Algon" merely one the super used inplace of the real one he didn't know he knew? Or, again, could it bethat he was so well trusted that the knowledge had not been sealed offfrom him?

Of the three, Hanlon argued the latter was probably the truth. 

Another point. That vague reference to "if or when you leave here" wasundoubtedly a slip of the tongue. Philander had probably guessed--orperhaps it was so with all first-time men--that Hanlon was here onprobation. "If so, " the thought was insistent, "I sure will have towatch my step every minute, and not let slip what I'm trying to dohere. " But further moments of thought brought the reasonable conclusionthat he could lull their suspicion by buckling down and making a realrecord for efficiency. 

Or . . . And this gave him the cold shivers for a moment, so that heinstinctively burrowed a bit further down beneath the sheet, as thoughit could protect and warm him . . . Did they know all about him already, and had sent him here to get rid of him? Was he to become another victimof one of the leader's "little accidents"?

Yes, if they still disbelieved his story about his dismissal, they mightwell be determined to get rid of him in a way that would not incriminatethem. They would know that if Hanlon was still a Corpsman his deathwould be most thoroughly investigated. 

Perhaps . . . But if that was the case, why let him get here at all? His"accident"--fatal, of course (so sorry!)--could just as well haveoccurred on the way. No, more likely he was still on probation. Theywere not quite sure of him, but were giving him the benefit of thedoubt. The leader seemed to like him, in a curious way. 

Well, he was now warned, and would watch himself more carefully thanever . . . And he had learned a lot, and would learn more. He smiledcontentedly and went back to sleep. 

 * * * * *

The next day he had his first taste of guarding the natives as theyworked. The superintendent himself inducted him into the task. 

Shortly before shift time, Philander appeared at Hanlon's room just asthe young man was putting on the special clothing he had been told towear on duty in the mine. 

"Ready?" Philander was strangely courteous and co-operative. "Let's gocollect your crew. "

They went over to the stockade, the superintendent giving Hanlon a keyas they unlocked the gates. Hanlon saw that the corral was divided intotwelve sections. 

"One guard has charge of all the natives in one section, and they allwork each shift, " Philander explained. 

"What if one of them is sick?"

"They don't get sick, " the man's voice was gruff, and Hanlon's firstthought was that what he really meant was that the natives were workedno matter how they felt. But he quickly became ashamed of thethought--he didn't know anything about them yet, and perhaps theyactually never did get sick. He would have to quit jumping toconclusions that way--it would seriously retard his ability to makecorrect deductions. 

At the rearmost section, Philander opened another gate with the samekey, and flashed his portable glo-light inside the large hut thatcovered most of the space of the section. Hanlon, close behind, couldsee about twenty of the "Greenies, " as he had learned they were usuallycalled, standing or lying about. There was no furniture inside, nochairs nor stools, tables or beds. 

"They eat and sleep standing up--that's why the huts don't need anyfurnishings, " Philander explained. 

At sight of the men and the light, most of the natives began movingtoward the door. A few at the back didn't move fast enough to satisfyPhilander, and with a curse he ran back and touched them with thatshock-rod he carried. 

Hanlon could see an expression of agony on the faces of those touched, and as they writhed away from the rod he realized it must be verypainful, indeed, if not exquisite torture to them. They now jumpedforward, and huddled pathetically near the door. 

Philander took a long, light but very tough line from his pocket. It hada series of running nooses in it, and he slipped one of these about thewrist of each native, drawing it tight. Then he half-led, half-draggedthem out of the stockade, to the mine entrance, and down the drift tothe rise they had to climb to get to the stope Hanlon's crew was towork. 

Once there, and released from the rope, the natives seemed to know whatthey were supposed to do, and sullenly started doing it. 

"You usually use three pickmen, four shovellers, four for your timberingcrew, three sorters, and six on the wheel-barrows, " Philander explained. "Sometimes, if the vein widens out enough, you get extra hands to workthe wider face, but this size crew generally works out best. You'll soonget used to it so you'll know how many you need. If more, just yell andyou'll get 'em. If it happens the vein narrows so you can't use allthese to best advantage, someone working a wider vein can use yourextras temporarily. "

"I get it, " Hanlon was very attentive. He was determined to learn thiswork quickly and thoroughly, and to make a good record. 

Philander showed Hanlon the difference between the ore and thesurrounding rock, and explained very carefully how he was to watchespecially for any side veins branching off from the main one. "Makesure the Greenies clean out all the ore as they go along, before it'stimbered up. "

"I understand everything so far. "

"Keep the lazy beggars going full speed, " Philander was very emphatic. "Don't let 'em lag, or they'll wear you down. Don't ever let 'em get outof control, or put anything over on you, especially in sorting ore fromrock. They're tricky. Use your shock-rod at every least sign of mutinyor loafing. Make 'em respect you. They know better'n to try to get away, 'cause they hate the rod. "

"What does it do to them?"

"We don't know exactly, except they can feel it, and will do anything toget away from it. "

"Maybe it hurts them terribly. "

"Look, punk!" Philander lost his friendliness, and snarled at Hanlonwith twisted face. "We don't care whether they like it or not. They knowtheir jobs and they don't have to get shocked if they keep working. Soit's strictly up to them. Don't go getting any soft notions about theselousy Greenies. They're only dumb brutes fit for working--so work 'em!"

"I'll work 'em, " Hanlon said. 

Chapter 14

Yes, Hanlon would work the natives, but without cruelty. His thoughtswere a seething of contempt for these brutal thugs. He was willing tobet, right there and then, without knowing anything about thissituation, that these natives could be controlled without bullying orhurting them--and better. 

Having had military training, Hanlon knew it was possible to enforce themost strict discipline without such means, and that any man . . . Orentity, probably . . . Could and would submit to discipline fairly anddecently enforced, with far less trouble and animosity, and with fargreater productivity than if he were driven to it. 

"Anybody works better for a pat on the back than for a kick in thepants!" he thought indignantly. 

Philander stood about for an hour, and when he saw that Hanlonunderstood exactly what was expected of him and his crew--when he sawHanlon several times correct the sorters who had left too much rock inwith the ores--he turned to leave. 

"You'll hear the siren when the shift's over, " he said. "Bring your gangback and lock 'em in the stockade then. Be sure you lock both gatescarefully. "

"Cookie gave me a lunch for half-time, " Hanlon said. "What about thenatives? Do they eat then, too?"

"Naw, they don't eat, " was the surprising answer. "Once a day they sticktheir hands into the dirt for nearly an hour. Must get nourishment thatway. "

"That seems to prove they're vegetable matter. Their fingers must besome sort of feeding roots, " Hanlon observed sagely. "They sure are thestrangest beings I've ever heard of. "

The superintendent shrugged and left without further words. 

Hanlon looked about and found a rock near the sorters, and used this fora seat. He sat watching the natives work, and speculating about them, and also about what this was all about. The mine seemed to him a veryrich one, and by using slave labor those men could well be reaping ahuge fortune from it. No wonder they could afford to pay guards athousand a month. 

After a bit one of the natives, seeing Hanlon merely sitting thereinstead of being alertly on guard close to them, dropped its shovel andturned away from its work. Hanlon got up leisurely, but walkedpurposefully over to confront the Greenie. He smiled and motioned thenative back to work. 

The Greenie's face showed surprise at Hanlon's action, but it made nomove to go. It did, however, appear to be keeping its eyes alertly onthat dread shock-rod hanging loosely in Hanlon's hand. The guard couldsee that the others had also stopped work, and were carefully watchingthe little drama. 

Hanlon smiled and again motioned the native back to work, and when itdid not move, he reached out, grasped it gently by the shoulder and, still gently, pushed it in the direction of its shovel, with what wasreally a pat on the back. 

There were looks of surprise that amounted almost to stupefaction on thefaces of all the natives. The one who had first stopped now picked upits shovel and resumed work, and the rest followed its example. Hanlonresumed his seat, still with that friendly smile on his face. He noticedwith satisfaction that they were soon working harder and faster thanbefore the incident. 

"I was right, " he told himself almost smugly. 

The six hour shift was finally ended without any further show ofresistance. That is, it was six hours by Algonian time, but about eightby Terra standards. For on Algon, while the day had been divided by thehumans into twenty-four hours, the same as on Earth, each hour wasalmost seventy-eight minutes long. They divided the year into five dayweeks, though, so it averaged out about the same. 

When the siren blew Hanlon smiled happily at his crew as he herded themtogether, and made applauding motions with his hands, wondering if theyunderstood what he meant. 

When he had locked the natives in their stockade, he hunted up thecheckers. "How'd I do?" he asked. "Come anywhere near what I wassupposed to get out?"

One of the checkers totalled up his figures, then looked up in surprise. "Hey, kid, you did all right. Nearly a hundred pounds over the usualoutput, and clean, too. That's really okay for a new guard, and thensome. Didn't have any trouble, eh?"

"Trouble?" Hanlon asked naively. "Was I supposed to have some?" Then hecouldn't help grinning. "Thanks for the info, " and went to his room, took a shower to cool off after that muggy heat in the mine, thentumbled onto his bunk for a nap until dinner-time. 

Those first days so thoroughly disgusted George Hanlon as he saw thecontinued and senseless brutality the guards used toward their native"slaves, " that he had trouble concealing his feelings. He continued totreat his Greenies with the respect he felt was due them, and he couldnot help but notice they seemed to look on him more and more as theirfriend. They always smiled when he looked at them, and before many dayshe discovered that his crew was doing more work than any of the others. His mind-probing had convinced him they were high enough in the scale ofevolution to know the meaning of gratitude, and he could tell they wererepaying his kindness with co-operation. 

He had begun to make much more sense out of the pictures he saw intheir minds, and to get some glimmerings of understanding about theiralien concepts. Also, it was increasingly borne in upon him that theydid "talk" to each other, and he guessed shrewdly that the reasonno one could hear them was because their voices were above . . . Orbelow? . . . The range of human hearing. "Above, " he finally deduced. 

That gave him the idea for an experiment, and he started whistling asloud as he could, gradually raising his tones until he was at the top ofhis range. He saw with interest and excitement that the last one or twoshrillest notes seemed to attract their attention. Their silly-lookinglittle triangular ears perked up and began twitching. They turned about, as though seeking the source of that sound, while every mouth beganworking with signs of utmost excitement, and his mind caught concepts ofsurprise and wonder. 

That convinced him and so, in his next several off-hours, hesurreptitiously collected various articles and pieces of material, andin his room started the construction of a little machine. His course inthe Corps school had included considerable mechanics and electronics, and the tearing down and rebuilding of many of the machines andinstruments the Corps used. 

What he was trying to make now was a "frequency-transformer. " If itwould do what he was sure it would, and if he was right about theAlgonians having vocal ability, they should be able to hear each other, and some day he might learn their language well enough to converse withthem. 

He finished it and smuggled the little box-like machine into his placein the mine. When he had his crew down there and working at their tasks, he got out the little box. He turned on the current from the smallbattery installed in it, then began talking at the same time he wasturning a rheostat higher and higher. Finally he noticed those mobileears began to twitch, and as he turned the tones higher and stillhigher, more and more of the natives stopped work and turned toward him. Finally he noticed an intenser excitement among them, and they droppedtheir tools and came crowding closer to him and his machine, theirlittle eyes almost emitting sparks of excitement. 

He thrilled with the realization that it worked. Now he turned anotherknob more and more, and gradually from the speaker came a jumble ofsounds much like "mob-mutter, " but very low. He kept on turning therheostat until the incoming voices seemed about the same pitch as hisown voice. 

The excitement of the natives had grown to tremendous proportions, andhis own equalled theirs. Their little mouths were working faster, and anexpression almost like laughter came onto their peculiar little faces, as they heard his voice and knew he could now hear theirs. 

Hanlon's own smile almost cracked his face. He realized he had learnedsomething none of the greedy, power-mad Simonideans knew, and felt thathere was the possible beginning for his campaign to free these poornative slaves. 

He beckoned to one of the nearer natives to come to his side, then wavedthe rest back to their work. They looked at him questioningly for amoment, but he smiled reassuringly at them and they, having learned thathe never used that dread shock-rod on them, all went back to theirlabors, leaving the one native standing there. 

Hanlon looked earnestly at the Greenie, pointed a finger directly athimself and spoke into the microphone of his transformer. "Hanlon, " hesaid slowly and distinctly, and repeated it a number of times, tappinghimself on the chest each time he said it. 

A smile of comprehension broke over the native's little face and hetapped himself the same way and said a word that came out of the speakersounding like "Geck. "

Hanlon reached out and touched the native and said "Geck. " The Greeniein turn tapped Hanlon and said "An-yon, " and they had made the firstbeginnings of understanding each other. 

From then on this one native was released from all other work whileHanlon's crew was on duty, and the two devoted all their efforts tolearning how to talk to each other. 

Hanlon was pleased, but not especially surprised, to note that the restof the crew--now almost entirely without his supervision--worked harderthan ever, and that their daily output of ore grew progressively greatereach shift, and all clean ore. 

Hanlon's first exultant thought had been to run to Philander and tellhim of what he had learned concerning the native's speech ability, andhow he had made it possible for humans to talk to them. 

But more sober reflections during that long work-shift brought caution. He decided this was a bit of knowledge he had better keep to himself aslong as possible. He hoped he could keep it until he had learned how totalk with these people and learned much about them, their situation, andhow it could best be ameliorated. 

The other men, he knew, considered the natives simply beasts, and wouldprobably take away his transformer, instead of using it to learn aboutthe Greenies as he planned to do. 

By the end of a month he and Geck were chatting away like brothers. Eachhad learned enough of the other's language so that by using a mixture ofthe two they could exchange almost any thought concept desired. Hanlon'sability to read the native's surface thoughts helped a lot, especiallyas he began to understand their alien ways of thinking. Even so, he wassurprised at how quickly Geck was picking up his own language. 

Hanlon found that these people, while they had no scientific ormechanical knowledge or training of their own, did have highly developedethical principles which governed all their individual and collectiveactions. They were a simple, natural people, with a native dignityHanlon almost envied. 

He found, too, that his first shrewd guess was correct--their bodieswere of vegetable matter, rather than proto-plasmic. They reproduced bybudding, and he saw a number of the "females" to whom were attached budsof varying sizes. One day he watched interestedly while one of theripened buds, a fully-developed individual but only about ten incheshigh, detached itself from its parent and dropped to the ground. It laythere for some minutes while the "mother" watched it carefully. Then itrose by itself and trotted away with her as she resumed her work--aminiature but fully alive native "child. " It would take about two yearsfor it to attain its maturity, Geck informed him. Hanlon asked, and Gecksaid it could take care of itself alone in the forest, so Hanlon managedto sneak it out into the woods, where it would be free. 

Geck told him that about four years previous a great "egg" had landedhere on Guddu, which was their name for the planet. Men had come frominside it, and scattered all about, seeking the metal ores they were nowmining. 

The natives, friendly and childishly curious, had gathered in force towatch these strange new creatures, and because of their trusting natureshad been easily trapped, imprisoned and forced to work long, hard hoursin the rapidly-deepening holes. 

"Us die swiftly away from sunlight, " Geck said sadly. "Us have very longlife-span, but underground work make us wither-die fast. Idea oftendiscussed among we to discontinue race, because soon all we be goneanyway. "

That quiet, hopeless statement made Hanlon madder than a wet cat. 

"What do the shock-rods do to you?" he asked after a while. 

"Affect we's nervous system some way. Us get most terrible cramps. Ishorrible agony. Us so thankful you never use. "

"I knew you would work without them as long as you were treated fairly. "

To himself Hanlon swore a determined oath to finish this businessentirely, some way or another. He realized his limitations--one young, inexperienced man against twenty ruthless, wealth-and-power greedyruffians . . . And that only here, at this one mine. No telling how manyothers there were on Algon, besides all those back on Simonides, and whoknew what other planets, who were in on this plot. 

His heart clamored for swift action--his brain counselled caution andcareful planning. 

Chapter 15

Hanlon was sitting at his usual place in the mine one day when one ofthe barrow-men ran up and spoke swiftly to Geck, who turned to Hanlon, alarm on his face. "Big boss man come. "

Hanlon jumped to his feet. "Get everyone to work; tell them to act realbusy!" he snapped. "You, too!"

He thrust the frequency-transformer into a hole prepared for just suchan emergency, grabbed up his shock-rod and stepped closer to thenatives. He was standing there, to all appearances strictly on the jobof making his charges work, when Philander came crawling up the riseinto the pocket where this crew was mining the glossy, lustrouspitch-blank uraninite ore. 

"How're things going?" the superintendent greeted Hanlon with at leastthe appearance of friendliness. 

"Just fine, " the young man responded. "Everything's under control. "

"Been looking over the reports, and see your crew is getting out moreore'n any of the others, " the super's voice held just a tinge ofanxiety, and Hanlon began probing that mind to see if he could discoverjust 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. 

The big man regarded them closely, and could see that every single oneof the natives was working at what he knew was their top speed, andwithout a single slacker. Even the barrow-men were moving almost at ajog-trot rather than the lazy saunter most natives used in an effort todo no more than they were forced to do. 

Philander shook his head wonderingly. "How d'you do it?" he asked. "Theother guards have to keep shocking one after another of the lazy dogs, yet you've made no move at a single one--and they keep right onhustling. I've never seen a crew work so hard. "

Hanlon wanted desperately to tell him, but he decided the time was notyet. So he merely shrugged the question away as of little consequence. "I dunno, sir. I just stand around watching 'em, and they work. " Hegrinned into the super's face. "Must be my manly charms--er sumpin', " hechuckled. Then sobered. "Maybe one reason is that I rotate 'em. Any jobgets monotonous, so every hour or so I let 'em change around, from pickto barrow to sorting, and so on. "

A frown of annoyance came onto Philander's face, but he quickly erasedit. After all, this man was getting out more ore than the others, andthat was what he was here for. How he did it didn't matter so much, after all, as long as he kept up his record. 

But Hanlon, reading those surface thoughts, knew that the official wasstill very suspicious--and vastly worried. Hanlon knew he had to disarmthe super some way, to get him out of that mood. He decided his air ofnaivete could still do the trick. 

"Mr. Philander, sir, " his voice was very ingenuous, "I don't want to pryinto anything that's none of my business, but would you mind telling mewhat this stuff is we're getting here? It isn't anything dangerous, isit? I mean, it isn't one of those . . . Those radium ores that make afellow sterile, is it? I may want to get married some day, so I don'twant to take any chances. "

The mining engineer looked at him blankly for a moment, then threw backhis head and laughter rolled out until it seemed to fill the stope. Hanlon watched the other's mind clear itself of all suspicion . . . Atleast for the time being. 

Philander rested his hand companionably on the younger man's shoulder. "No, it's nothing like that, so you can quit worrying. And the bonusyou'll get, if you can keep up this output, will fix you so you canafford a wife when your time's up and you go back to Sime. "

"Gee, that's good, " Hanlon made his voice and face show how relieved hefelt. "It had me worried, even though I haven't got a girl yet. "

The superintendent seemed in good humor now. Hanlon caught the thoughtthat this punk was a good guard, and bright, and he did get the stuffout. The plan of rotating the workers was good--he'd order the otherguards to use it. This Hanlon probably was no menace to their planshere, after all. In fact, maybe later they could use him on the biggerjob. He (Philander) would so recommend to His Highness when he made hisnext report. 

After a few more casual words the super left, and Hanlon sank back ontohis favorite lounging place, thinking very seriously and contemplativelyabout this whole matter. 

Again he had run into that thought about someone called "His Highness, "but never any indication as to who the man was, or what position heoccupied. It was now apparent that this individual was the man he wouldhave to ferret out, whose plans he would have to learn before the Corpscould take any really effective action. 

He certainly hoped that one was the top man. It was going to be hardenough to get a line on him--to say nothing of anyone even higher. 

One evening at dinner, some time later, Hanlon became aware that theguard, Gorton, was growling at him. He looked up in surprise, and forcedhimself to pay attention to the big man's words. 

"I ask ya, whatcha tryin' t' do, punk?" the small pig-eyes glared redlyat him, and the voice was harsh and bitter. "Try'n'a show up us otherguards? What'sa big idea, gettin' out more ore'n we do?"

Hanlon stared back in amazement, and his voice when he answeredwas a stammer of surprise. "Why . . . Why . . . I'm not trying to doanything . . . Except my job, " he added more forcefully. 

"We been gettin' out a reg'lar three tons a shift, " the ugly face wasshoved closer to his, and Hanlon shrank back from the stench of rawspirits breathed on him. "What'sa idea drivin' yer crew up t' three an'a half er four?"

"I was told to keep my crew working, and I've been doing that . . . Andonly that!" Hanlon snapped. "And take your ugly, stinking face away frommine!"

The disgust he felt at the brutality of these guards had made him sosoul-sick with them he wasn't going to take any guff from one of them. Even though Gorton out-weighed him by a good sixty pounds and probablyhad at least four inches longer reach, Hanlon wasn't afraid of him. 

Right now he was as much in the mood for a fight as the guard seemed tobe, for at Hanlon's words Gorton's huge, ham-like hand suddenly slappedout at the younger man. Hanlon wasn't able entirely to dodge safely, sitting as close as they were. His head rang from the terrific blow. Hegrabbed his cup of steaming coffee, and threw it backhand into Gorton'sface. 

Bellowing in pain and anger, the guard jumped up, upsetting the bench, and almost Hanlon with it. But the younger man was agile, and kept hisfeet. As Gorton rushed, his long, heavy arms flailing, Hanlon duckedaway and jumped back far enough to get a firm footing on a cleared spaceof floor. 

All Corps cadets were well-trained in both Marquis of Queensburyboxing, Judo and no-holds-barred barroom brawling. He knew all thequestions . . . And all the answers. 

So Hanlon stepped back in quickly. While Gorton was out of position fromthat abortive mighty swing, he drove his fist to the wrist into the bigman's soft belly. As Gorton doubled up with an explosive grunt, Hanlonswung from the heels. His uppercut caught the big fellow flush on thejaw, and staggered him. 

But Gorton could take it, and charged again, roaring curses. By sheerweight he bore Hanlon back across the floor, and got in a couple ofheavy blows. Hanlon's right cheek was badly bruised, and that eye almostclosed. But he was fighting methodically, almost viciously. He was inand out, slashing and ripping Gorton's face to shreds. 

The other guards had been yelling their delight at the fight, and theirhatred of the brash newcomer who was destroying their easy set-up. Itwas plain they were all on Gorton's side, and hoped to see Hanlon getthoroughly whipped. 

"Bat his ears off, Gort!"

"Pound some sense inta him!"

"Show him who's top man aroun' here!"

One of them was not content with yelling. As Hanlon stepped to one sideto avoid another of Gorton's rushes, this guard stuck out his leg andtripped Hanlon, who fell backward. Instantly Gorton was on him, and agreat heavy-shod foot shot out in a kick that would have broken Hanlon'severy rib. But the SS man was watching for just such tricks. His feetsnaked out and hoisted Gorton so high and so far that when he landed hecrashed like a great falling tree. Hanlon jumped to his feet and swungto confront his foe. But Gorton's head was bleeding badly, his eyes wereclosed, his face contorted. He was out like a burnt match. 

Instantly Hanlon sank to his knees by the fallen man, gently raising thehead and yelling for cold water and a towel. When the cook came runningwith them, Hanlon worked as swiftly to revive the guard as he would havedone for his friend. 

The other guards were so surprised at this act of mercy they sat likedull clods. But a couple of the engineers rose and came swiftly to helpHanlon. One of the checkers ran to Philander's office for the first aidkit. 

The men were working desperately to stanch the flow of blood whenSuperintendent Philander came running in with the clerk and the kit. Taking in the situation at a glance, he demanded an explanation. 

"Th' punk jumped Gort an' tried t' kill 'im!" one of the guards yelled, but was shouted down by the engineers, the checkers and the cook beforethe other slow-witted guards came to their senses enough to corroboratetheir fellow's mendacious claim. 

The senior engineer explained fully and concisely what had actuallyhappened. "Yet after all that, the kid was the first to help him, eventhough Gorton started the fight for no reason. "

Just then the fallen guard groaned and began to regain his senses. Themen helped him to his feet. He blinked for some moments, as thoughtrying to figure out what had happened to him, then remembrance came. 

"Why, that little squirt, hittin' me wit' a chair!" he yelled, andstraggled to get at Hanlon again, nor did the men have an easy timeholding him back. 

Philander planted himself squarely in front of the angry man. "Shut up!"he blazed, and the tone of command halted the big fellow; he staredstupidly at his boss, as though disbelieving his ears. "You keep yourhands off Hanlon!" the super emphasized his words by tapping Gorton notgently on the chest. "I hear of any more of this, and it's the jug 'tilthe next ship comes, then back to Sime. "

He whirled to face the table. "That goes for all the rest of you rats, too! If Hanlon does his job better'n you, it's 'cause he's a better man. Try to match him--don't go gunning for him!"

"He your pet, Pete?" one asked mockingly. 

"No, he's not my pet, Pete, " the super's voice mimicked the tone, although his face went red at the accusation. "I just don't want thiscamp messed up with any feuds. That'd cut down production, and the BigBoy wants this ore out fast. If Hanlon can work his crew faster'nharder'n the rest of you, you'd a blasted sight better find out how hedoes it, not try to cut down his take. How'd you like to go back to Simeand try explaining to His Highness why you're not getting out as muchstuff as's been proved possible?"

That stopped them cold. Hanlon, watching their faces and reading theirminds, saw them shiver at thought of having to face that fearedindividual--whoever he was. They were more scared of him than of theDevil--that was evident. 

The men resumed their eating without another word--that threat had cowedthem as no amount of physical chastisement or other punishment couldpossibly have done. Philander set about sewing up and binding Gorton'shead-wound and his cut and bleeding face. 

Hanlon resumed his own seat after washing up and treating his ownbruises with the cook's help. As he ate he sought mind after mind in thevain endeavor to discover any possible scrap of information about thisenigmatic, unknown Highness. 

But he drew blank after blank, as far as definite data wasconcerned--just as he had always done. The surface thoughts of each manthere showed plainly their fear of that implacably cold and viciousbrain, but none of them held a picture of him. 

They knew no excuses for failure were ever accepted. They knew terriblepunishments were certain to follow when anyone was luckless enough toincur that monster's displeasure. 

But Hanlon shivered, himself, as he saw how clearly those hardenedcriminals feared that mysterious man's displeasure. He quailedmomentarily at thought of what would happen to him if he were caughttrying to locate that man and his plot. 

Hanlon knew a long moment of utter discouragement. There was so much hehad to know before he could lead the Corps in clearing up this mess. There had been so many mentions of a "main plot" that he knew thisillegal mining and slavery was but a small part of what was . . . Whatmust be . . . Going on. 

No, he would just have to keep on trying, keep on working. On secondthought, he had done pretty well so far, at that--he felt he had a rightto feel good about that. 

But he wasn't done yet, by a whole tankful of fuel. 

The problem stayed with him even in sleep, but in the morning he had anidea. 

As soon as he got his crew down into the mine and working, he got outthe frequency-transformer, and called Geck to him. 

"Can you find out what is happening on other parts of Guddu?"

The native's answers stunned him. 

"Yes, An-yon, all we can mind-talk with any Guddu anywhere. What youwish to know?"

Chapter 16

The knowledge that these Guddus of Algon were telepathic rocked GeorgeHanlon back on his heels. That was a thing he had never even imagined. They were such a simple, almost childlike race, that such an ability wasfarthest from his thoughts. 

"If you can talk with your minds?" he asked Geck in wonder, "why do youbother to speak with the voice to each other?"

"Because mind-talk more tiring to we, " came the simple explanation. "Ittake much of we's forces. Us grow weak after much of them. "

"That makes me hesitate to ask you to do any of it, then, " the young SSman said. "I was hoping you could find out for me how many mines areoperated on the planet, and if all of them are using you Guddus asslaves. "

"Oh, yes, An-yon, me know that already, " Geck's peculiar little face, which had become so friendly to Hanlon through long association, brokeout into a smile that was quickly shadowed by sorrow at thought of theplight of his people. "There is nine mines. Human masters make Gudduwork in all of they. "

"Nine, eh?" Hanlon thought swiftly for a moment. "Do they all producethe same ores as this one?"

"Will have to find that for you, An-yon. You wait short space of time. "

The Greenie grew silent and strained with concentration. Hanlon probedinto the native's mind, wondering if he could follow it. And haltinglyat first, but with growing ability as he learned the pattern, he foundhe could ride along on that telepathic beam. 

The thoughts were far too swift for him to catch more than an occasionalconcept, but he was thrilled to realize he was actually telepathing, even though at second-hand. 

One after another mind he could feel joining in that conference. Therewas much hostility and great fear when Geck first tried to explain aboutthe human who was their friend, and had learned to talk with them. TheGuddus on the other end of that "line" were tremendously skeptical, afraid, and very, very suspicious of the motives of any human being. 

But Geck was eloquent and persuasive. Before long their fears began tolessen, and later they seemed to accept his assurance that "An-yon" was, indeed, both friendly and anxious to help them escape their slavery. 

"The human An-yon is but one of the most of humans who are kind and justand ethical, " he was surprised to hear Geck telepathing when he got sohe could understand. "It is the few, such as those others who are here, who are not. These are bad men who come here just to get things for ownselfish ends, and the good men, who are most, will stop them as soon asthey can. An-yon come here just for that, to find out what those bad mendo, and to stop them. "

That speech was another shock to Hanlon--he had never told Geck allthat. 

The distant natives finally bowed to Geck's importunings, and gave himthe specific information for which he was asking because the friendlyhuman wanted to know it. 

There were two other mines that produced the same uraninite ore as theone at which Hanlon was stationed. There were three iron mines, andHanlon was not too surprised to learn that at each of these minessmelters had been erected. He learned that humans were used mostly inthe mills, the natives being used only for outside labor because theycould not stand the heat. 

"We burn quickly, " was the sad, horrified thought. 

There were three other mines, but the natives did not know the Englishor Greek names for the metals found there. Even after considerablequestioning by the roundabout "Hanlon to Geck to the Guddus back to Geckback to Hanlon" method, he still couldn't get that specific information. 

"If it isn't tiring you too much, Geck, please ask them if there is anybuilding going on besides the smelters at the iron mines?" Hanlonrequested. 

Soon other minds about the planet were coming in, and the story began tounfold--there were several factories making many machines. But none ofthe natives had the least idea what kind, or for what purpose they werebeing made. 

"Think they are going to be put in great metal huts humans are making, "one thought ran, and Hanlon quickly grabbed onto that. 

"What sort of metal huts?"

"Things that look like huge eggs. "

"Space ships, you mean?"

Another thought broke in. "Yes, they like ships human come in, but muchgreater. "

Hanlon fumed. Oh, if only he could see . . . But wait, maybe he could getthe information he needed. "Ask if anyone is looking at one of those'eggs' right now, " he commanded Geck through the transformer. 

"Yes, An-yon, many Guddu right at edge of great place of making. Brotherof me, Nock, him there. "

"Ask him, please, to describe what he sees. Maybe that will give me agood picture of what it is. "

"Will be glad to try, but not knowing your language and having nocompare your measurement to ours, am not sure can do what you wish, " hefelt Nock say. 

This, too, surprised Hanlon. That native certainly had a real mind, tograsp that difficulty so well, and to realize the limitations oftelepathic communications with one alien to his race. 

"Please picture it in your mind as you see it, and use some commonobjects of the planet for comparison of their sizes, " Hanlon urgedthrough Geck's mind. "That way I think we can get along. "

Almost instantly a picture of a gigantic egg formed in his mind, butwith enough variations from an actual egg so that Hanlon realized itwas, indeed, a space ship the native was viewing. Soon Hanlon saw agreat tree pictured beside the ship, and at the base of the tree anative was standing. 

Quickly Hanlon estimated. The adult natives he had seen were almost allabout six feet tall. As nearly as he could judge that tree was a goodfifteen times the height of the Guddu, and the ship was the same heightas the tree, and nearly three times as long. 

Wow! What a ship! But it must be wrong. Even the largest Corps' warshipswere nowhere near that huge. Nor were even any of the biggest freightershe had ever seen. He must be getting his measurements wrong. 

He called Geck, using the transformer. "Are you seeing what I am inNock's mind?"

"Yes, An-yon, and you is figure right. Is that big. "

Hanlon slowly shook his head in amazement. If that was meant for awarship, it certainly spelled trouble for someone. He thought seriouslyfor several moments, then telepathed Nock. "Is there more than one shipbeing built?"

"Oh, yes, there are many many. " The picture built up of a whole row ofships, and Hanlon counted swiftly. 

_Eighteen!_

For what purpose was such a fleet being built? Men would not defy theI-S C and the Federated Planets this way merely for business reasons, hefelt sure. There certainly was a plot being hatched--and what a plot!

He felt Geck's hand on his arm, and heard his voice. "Are two moreplaces where humans build many ship, An-yon. While you think me talkmany minds. One place are fourteen more great ones. At other are manymany many small ones five to ten Guddu long. "

Shock on shock! Someone was building a tremendous fleet here! He mustget that news to Corps headquarters as quickly as possible. If thoseships were once finished, they would be able to dominate the system. Forthe Corps had only a nominal fleet. They had never needed a large one. 

To the best of his knowledge the Corps had only thirty-one first-linebattleships, much smaller than these. The Fleet also had fifty heavycruisers, a hundred and fifty light cruisers, and a thousand scoutsrunning from one-man up to twelve-man size. 

"Please find out if any of those ships they are building have ever leftthe ground. "

"Some little ones only, " Geck reported after awhile. "Some few disappearinto sky then come back after time, then do same again. "

Trial trips, or training trips for the crews, Hanlon deduced. 

Well, he had some data now, at least. Enough so that once he got thatnews to Headquarters they would attack this place in force great enoughto stop this work . . . IF . . . He could get word to them soon enough. 

"Let's see now, " he figured quickly. "I've been here almost twelveweeks. That means another six or seven until I'm supposed to be eligibleto get back to Simonides. Hmmm. Wish I knew how near finished those bigbattle-wagons are. "

More moments of intense thought. "I don't dare take the chance of tryingto sneak off to the yards, " he reasoned logically. "I've got to doeverything I can to make sure I get my trip back when my eighteen weeksare up. If I got caught off bounds that would ruin everything--I'dreally be in a mess. "

Also, even if he could get to the shipyards, the moment he was spottedtrying to get inside any of those ships he would undoubtedly be killedby guards who would certainly shoot first and ask questions later--ifany. 

Nor were there any longer any native birds or animals left on Algon hecould use--he had learned that the men had killed them off soon afterthey arrived. 

"No, I'll just have to keep on trying, and get what dope I can withoutexposing myself. With a month and a half I should be able to get a lotmore, and with what I already know, the Corps top brass will take steps, but fast!"

Suddenly a new idea sprang into his mind. Where was "here?" In hisexcitement and planning he had entirely forgotten to finish figuring outthat point. 

That evening after dinner he stayed outside, ostensibly walking aboutaimlessly, in reality looking at and studying the stars when he was sureno one was watching him. 

He couldn't spot any of the more familiar constellations such as the BigDipper, Bear, or the Southern Cross. He knew he was far to one side ofthe galaxy from Terra--that while from there one could see the "front"of those configurations, now he would be getting a "sidewise" view. Buthe could identify quite a few of the bigger suns and distant nebulae. 

He picked out several blue-white and red giants he was sure he knew. That was Andromeda off there; that one was undoubtedly Orion--no othercontained so many 4. 0 to 5. 2 stars, beside the gigantic Rigel, Betelgeuse and Bellatrix. 

Good, he could fix all that in his mind well enough to draw it when hegot back, and the Corps planetographers certainly would pin-point thissystem from those directions. Distance--let's see? He strained toremember the time it had taken that freighter to come here, andestimated that, with its slower speed, this world was somewhere betweenten and fifteen lights. He would time it more carefully, going back, andestimate the ship's speed as closely as possible. 

Young George Hanlon was maturing swiftly under the stress of thetremendous task he was attempting. He was learning that he must thinkand plan well ahead of time. He realized he could not afford to make anyserious mistakes, lest not only his task remain uncompleted, but hislife be forfeit as well. 

He knew now that it was absolutely imperative that he get back toSimonides at the earliest possible moment, and that the way to be sureof this was to so impress Philander that he would feel duty-bound togive Hanlon his vacation at end of the minimum time. 

So Hanlon devoted many hours of serious thought to this problem, andfinally figured out several courses of action. The next day, as soon ashis shift was over, Hanlon walked across the compound and knocked on thedoor of the headquarters office. When bade to enter he did so, hat inhand. 

"Have you got a half hour or so to talk, Mr. Philander, sir?" he asked. "I've got a couple of ideas I'd like to gab with you about, that I thinkmight speed up production even more. "

The man looked up in surprise, and his eyes bored deeply, suspiciouslyinto Hanlon's. "You think you can tell me how to run my job?" he rasped. 

"Oh, no, sir. I didn't mean about the engineering or supervision. It'sabout handling the natives, and getting more out of them. You've said Iwas getting out more ore than the others, and I think perhaps I've got afew ideas--a sort of hunch about making the Greenies themselves moreproductive. "

"Well, come in, come in then. What is it?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about the Greenies, sir. You rememberI thought they were vegetable matter, and the way they feed themselvesthey'd need ground that either has lots of natural chemicals in it, orthat has been well-fertilized, to keep 'em well and strong. That beingthe case, the dirt that forms the floors of their huts and stockadeswould very quickly become exhausted of those vital chemicals, and thenatives would begin suffering from malnutrition, it seems to me. My ganghas been slowing down recently, although they still seem to be trying ashard as ever. "

"Why . . . Why, yes, " the superintendent's eyes had widened in surprise asHanlon talked. "That makes sense. Imagine none of us thinking of that!But then, we've always thought of them merely as dumb beasts. "

"So I've been wondering if it wouldn't be a good idea either to move thestockades every month or so, or else let the natives 'feed' out in theopen jungle every day--the sunlight would probably help them, too, beingvegetable. They could be tied together and guarded, of course, so theycouldn't escape. "

Philander slumped down into his chair in deep thought, and Hanlon glowedinwardly with the hope that something would come of this plan. It wouldhelp him with Philander, if it worked. Also, it would help the Guddus, for Geek had often grown almost hysterical when complaining about theterrible hunger they all felt so continuously. 

Suddenly Philander sat erect. "I believe we've got a few sacks ofcommercial nitrates in the storehouse. Let's experiment and see if theycan use that. "

He rose purposefully from his desk and the two hurried to one of thewarehouses. There Philander soon found the sacks of chemical, and Hanloncarried one as they went to the corral. 

"May we try it on my crew first, sir?" he asked anxiously. "They seem tosort of like me, and I've learned more or less how to guess theirreactions by their facial movements, so I think I could tell whetherthey like it or not. "

"Sure, that's a good idea, " and they went on to the compound that housedHanlon's special crew. 

Inside, while Hanlon apparently chose at random, it was actually Geck towhom he beckoned. When the native approached, feigning fear andreluctance--Hanlon hid a sudden grin at Geck's unexpected actingbrilliance--the young man opened the sack and poured out a little of thenitrate. 

He stooped over and stuck his fingers into the stuff then rose andgestured to Geck to put his feeding fingers into it the same way. Meanwhile Hanlon was telepathing the exact information to his friend, asbest he could with his limited ability. 

Gingerly Geck stooped, and after a few false starts finally put one ofhis fingers into the little pile of nitrate, and activated the feedingsensories. For a few moments he stood thus, doubtfully, then his mannerclearly indicated joy and surprised happiness. He began working thatlittle triangular-shaped mouth, and the others crowded closer. 

Telepathically he informed Hanlon that this was wonderful--exactly thefood element the natives needed so desperately. 

"It seems to think it's all okay, " Hanlon said aloud to Philander. "I'llspread out a little more for them all, " and without waiting forpermission he made a long, narrow pile of the fertilizer clear acrossthe width of the hut. Instantly the rest of the natives crowded alongthat line and stuck their feeding fingers into it. Soon theirsilly-looking faces expressed their equivalent of blissful smiles ofcomplete satisfaction, and Hanlon's mind was suffused with thoughts ofpleasure and gratitude for his kindness. 

Chapter 17

Superintendent Philander stood watching the natives feeding, and hecould not help seeing how they appeared to appreciate the new food. After some time he said admiringly, "It looks like you've hit onsomething, George. If it continues to work out, we'll feed all of 'emthis stuff, and I'll requisition plenty more next time the freightercomes in. "

They left the compound, carefully locking both gates behind them, andwalked back to the office. Once there, Hanlon said, "I see you have achess set, sir. Do you play? I love the game. "

"You do?" Philander's eyes gleamed. "It's been a long time since therewas anyone here who did. "

"Then I hope you'll let me come in occasionally for a game. I getlonesome here. The other guards aren't worth talking to, and I'm noteducated enough in science or technology to get in on the arguments ofthe engineers and other technies. "

"Sure, sure, come in any time. I'll be mighty glad to have you, for Ilove chess. I get lonesome, too, and I have to stay a whole year at atime. Feel free to come in any evening. "

Back in his room Hanlon left tremendously satisfied with the evening'swork. He had done something for the natives that would help make theirintolerable situation more bearable until the time came when they couldbe freed of their slavery . . . And he had made a new friend who couldprove very useful. 

He was very anxious for the next work-period to come, so he could talkto Geck via the voice-transformer. For he was not yet adept enough attelepathy to be sure he had got all the information needed about the useof nitrates in the Guddu's diet. 

But the next day when he went to herd his crew from their compound anddown into the mine, he could not help noticing at first glance how muchsprightlier they looked than the other crews. The minute they hadreached the stope he unearthed the machine from its hiding place and gotinto conversation with the friendly Guddu. 

"The food stuff?" he asked eagerly. "Is it something you can use?"

"Oh, yes. An-yon, " Geck almost sputtered in his eagerness, and wordstumbled out so swiftly Hanlon could hardly translate them. "It arewonderful! Can you fix so all we can have?"

"Yes, they'll all be fed rations of it from now on, although perhaps notmuch until the ship can bring more from another planet. I don't know howmuch we have on hand. But the Boss-man liked my idea, and is going tosee to it that there is always some on hand for all the natives. He'llprobably spread the word to the other mines and factories, too. "

"Almost us ingest too many last dark, " Geck gave what Hanlon knew was ashamefaced laugh. "It such very good eat us become . . . " he hesitated. 

"Drunk, you mean?" Hanlon laughed. "I can see it might do that to you. You'll have to warn the others about that. "

They chatted away for some minutes, about how much the Guddusappreciated Hanlon's thoughtfulness. 

"Say, I just wondered, " Hanlon interrupted Geck's thanks. "Do you haveany idea where your planet is located in space? I mean, do you know thesuns closest to yours, anything about their distances or magnitudes?"

Geck's thoughts and expression were a blank, and it took most of thework-period even to make him understand what Hanlon was trying to ask. When he did finally manage to grasp the thought-concept, his answer wasa decided negative. 

"No, An-yon, us know nothing about other sun other planet. Before humanscome suppose we only intelligent life anywhere. Things you call suns usthought little fires light sky at night. Wonder many night who build. Wonder what is burn where is nothing. Wonder why only one big fire comeday. Wonder why big fire die come night. "

Hanlon's disappointment about that was tempered somewhat when thechecker came running into his room where he was resting before dinner, to tell him that his crew had suddenly got out almost half a ton moreore that day than any previous record he had made. 

 * * * * *

A new cook had come to the mine recently. He had a fox terrier, andHanlon got into the habit of playing with the dog, to keep up hisability to handle animal minds, and to learn more of the technique. Hewas always careful to say out loud the command for whatever trick hewanted the animal to perform, but actually he was controlling its brainand nerves and muscles. 

One evening he was working thus with the dog when Gorton, his head-woundstill bandaged, came into the messhall. Seeing Hanlon with the terrier, his heavy lip curled. 

"So th' fair-haired boy's also a animal trainer, eh?"

"That he is, " Cookie said from the doorway leading into the kitchen. "And good, too! He's got Brutus doing things I never knew a dog coulddo. "

Gorton sneered again. "Teachin' tricks t' a dog is kid stuff. "

"Can you do it?" the cook asked sarcastically. 

"Who'd bother t' try?"

Hanlon looked up, blandly. "You couldn't expect that of Mr. Gorton, Cookie. To teach an animal to do tricks you have to know more than itdoes. "

"Why, you . . . " Gorton started forward, his face aflame, while the othermen roared with laughter at the rough wit. 

But the big guard did not reach Hanlon. One of the newer guards, a giantSwede named Jenssen, stopped him. "Aw, lay off the kid, Gort. He's okay. That stunt of feeding the Greenies fertilizer makes 'em turn out lotsmore work, and we'll get us bigger bonuses 'cause of it. "

But Gorton was not the type to know when to quit. Nor was he high enoughin the ethical scale to know appreciation for the fact that it was thevery man he had been reviling who was the first to go to his aid when hewas hurt. 

Hanlon had come to realize that the big man was determined to provokehim to another fight. He knew that tempers were edgy and explosive inthis enervating heat, and usually tried to bear Gorton's insults andpetty meannesses in silence. He wouldn't demean himself by descending tothe big guard's low level . . . Although occasionally, when the heat wastoo much even for him, as tonight, he couldn't resist making someanswer. 

Gorton, he had long since decided, was one of those men who, havingnothing of worth to offer the world, did their utmost to tear down andhumiliate anyone who had. And his smallness of soul and intellect wereshown by the sort of tricks he was continually pulling, thinking themsmart. 

Such as scrawling with chalk on Hanlon's room door, "Super's pet";continually upsetting Hanlon's beverage cup, or "accidentally" droppingthings in Hanlon's plate of food. 

The young SS man could have moved to another place at the table, but hewouldn't give the big guard that satisfaction. 

But one of Gorton's tricks backfired to such an extent that it haddisastrous results for Gorton himself. That was the night he, knowingthat Hanlon had been the last at the compound, sneaked out and unlockedall the gates. He figured, of course, that it would be apparent toeveryone that it was Hanlon's rank carelessness that had allowed all theGreenies to escape. 

But to the surprise of everyone--except Hanlon--not a single one hadleft; all were inside their huts the next morning. 

Philander came running when he heard about it. "Who did it?" he demandedangrily. 

"Th' punk there, o' course!" Gorton sneered. 

Philander swivelled about, surprise on his face. "You, George? Did youforget to lock the gates?"

"No, sir, I locked them all when I went in to dinner. "

"He's lyin'. He was th' last one t' bring up his gang. "

"That's true, I was. But I know I locked all the gates very carefully, as always. "

One of the engineers spoke up. "I saw him doing it, Pete. I also saw oneof the other guards leave the messhall for a few minutes just before wesat down to eat. When he came back I saw him grinning mysteriously asthough very self-satisfied about something. "

"Who was that?"

"Sorry, I name no names. "

"I tell, " big Jenssen spoke up. "It was Gort. He's got it in for George. He's one big fool!"

Philander wheeled in rage. "I told you, you brainless slob, to leaveHanlon alone, and by Jupiter, I mean it! Cut it out! One more stunt, andyou go into irons, then back to Sime for an interview with His Highness. You go back next trip anyway. I'm done with you. "

The rest of the men stood by in hostile silence, and it was clear fromtheir attitudes that this time Gorton had gone too far. How it happenednone of the natives had run away, puzzled them all. 

But Hanlon guessed, and when he had taken his crew down to work hecalled Geck to him, and by means of the transformer asked about it. 

"Was one Guddu in hut by main gate who first see gate were open. Himmind-tell all we to run far into forest. This crew us stop all they. Tell other Guddu how kind are you. How you get we 'oigm'-food. Tell howyou's work to make all we free; make free all Guddu everywhere. Us saymaybe so we's all get free now small time. But say come humans withshock-rod, hunt we, hurt we, make we work more hard, be more cruel towe. Say then plan of you never get chance to make all we free all time. "

Hanlon bowed his head in silent thanks for the tremendous compliment. "Ionly hope I can justify your faith in me, Geck, " he said humbly. "Itwill be a miracle if I can bring it about, but I certainly intend tokeep on trying. It will take some time, you know that. I can't possiblydo anything until after I leave here. But if it's humanly possible, I'llbring the fleet here to free you. "

"Us know will be hard, that maybeso it never come we be free, " the Guddusaid. "But us know you are only hope. So us help you all us can. Gudduin mines try get more rock out as you say. But Guddu who help humansbuild big egg you call 'ships' do most. Each day some of they find waybreak something, do wrong thing. Two Guddu spoil much metal when jump invat where metal be melt. "

"Oh, no!" Hanlon cried in shocked anguish. "That was wonderfully braveof them, but none of the others must ever do things like that! Tell themnot to sacrifice their lives that way! I feel sure from all the reportsit isn't needed. I'll be going back in another few weeks, and the humanswon't have any of those biggest ships ready by then. Those are the onlyones we need to fear--the little ships don't count. "

It was too bad Hanlon did not know what else the humans were building, besides ships, at the shipyards. 

Hanlon's campaign to "get in good" with Philander was bearing tastyfruit, for the two were becoming fast friends. They spent many eveningsover a hotly-contested chess board. It was plain now that the nervous, worried superintendent felt he could relax in the company of this young, naive guard, for the latter was so patently no challenge to hisposition. Besides, it was also very evident that he liked Hanlon as aman. Day by day his attitude grew more fatherly. 

Hanlon, on his part, came to realize more the true, innate measure ofPhilander's inherent worth as a man, a gentleman, and an engineer. Hehad a fine mind, was well read, and thought deeply on many subjectsoutside his own technical line. 

"All he needs are some psychiatric treatments to reduce that awfulinferiority complex of his, " Hanlon mused one night as he walked backslowly to his room. "Then he'll really be the big, fine man he's capableof being, and will forget all this conspiracy nonsense. "

Thus Hanlon felt he was taking no special chance one night when the twowere standing on the little porch of the office, their game ended, andHanlon about to leave. He glanced up at the brilliant night sky. 

"Sure looks different here than it does back on Terra, " he saidconversationally. "Naturally it would, seeing we're so far away fromthere. But I never get tired of looking at it, and trying to see if Ican figure out some of the brighter suns. " He pointed to one bright stardirectly overhead. "That's Sirius, I know. It's always directly aboveyou. "

Philander laughed heartily. "No, Sirius is almost exactly opposite. Don't forget we're about a hundred light years out from Sol. "

Hanlon made himself look crestfallen. "And there I was sure I knew oneof 'em, at least. " He yawned pretentiously. "Well, guess I'll hit thehay. Reckon the stars'll stay put, whether I can pick 'em out or not. "

Philander laughed again, and clapped him on the back in comradelyfashion. "I wouldn't wonder. Goodnight, George. "

"'Night, Mr. Philander. " And as Hanlon walked back to his own room hisheart was light. He'd learned another important fact about theirlocation in space--the approximate distance from Sol. 

Chapter 18

A few nights later one of the junior engineers came running into theoffice where Hanlon and Philander were playing chess. 

"Trouble down in Stope Four, " he gasped. 

Philander jumped up, upsetting the board. He grabbed his glo-light andstarted out. 

"Want me along, sir?" Hanlon asked. 

"Might as well, " and Hanlon ran with them. 

Down in the mine they found, after examination, that it was not as badas it at first seemed. Some timbers had rotted away--or had not beengood wood in the first place--and a rock fall had occurred. But oncethey started working at it, they found it not too big. Hanlon was sentrunning for the rest of the men, and in a few hours everything was alltight again. 

Back in the office Hanlon picked up the fallen chess pieces whilePhilander and the engineers talked for some time. When they left Hanlonasked, "Want to finish the game--or rather, since the board was upset, want to play another?"

"Better make it a rain-check. I've got some paper work I should do. Makeit tomorrow. "

"That's okay with me. I'll go hit the hay. "

"Thanks for your help tonight, George. You pitched in so gladly, whilethe others were surly and grumbling. It was very noticeable, and Iappreciate it. You're a good kid. Wish I had one just like you. "

Hanlon flushed a bit, and couldn't meet his friend eye to eye. "I wasglad to do it, " he said lamely. "'Night, " and he ran out. Blast it, hethought, I hate using Pete that way, 'cause he's really a swell eggunderneath. But the job's more important. 

A few nights later they had finished the second game, and the elder hadwon both. He was consequently in very good humor, for the two were soevenly matched it was seldom either ever won two games in the sameevening. 

Philander leaned back in his chair and smiled at the younger man. "Well, George, the freighter'll be here in three days, and I'm sending you backfor your vacation. "

"Gee, thanks, Chief. That's swell of you. I'm going to miss you, butI'll admit I'll be glad to get away from this awful climate for a while. This place sure gets my goat--I can't seem to get used to it all. "

"Then you won't want to come back?" There was disappointment in thequestion. 

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that. I sure will be back if I can make it. Maybethis job isn't exactly what I'd dreamed about, " he had to hedge thatstatement a bit, and tried to make a sincere-sounding explanation, "butthat thousand credits a month is!"

"That reminds me--I want to be sure to recommend you for a good bonus. You deserve it more'n any guard we've ever had here. Then, too, yourideas of rotating your crew, and especially that fertilizer deal, haveraised the effective work-life and speed of the natives almost thirtypercent. I figured it out, and they'll be getting off cheap if they giveyou what I'm recommending--two months pay as a bonus. "

"Yowie!" Hanlon yelled, making his face show excitement, and thatcurious avarice he had so carefully built up in these suspicious men'sminds. "That'll make me six thou in four months. I'll be rich yet!"

"You and your urge for money, " Philander laughed, yet there was acurious undertone of almost-contempt in his voice. "Why're you so hippedon that subject?"

Hanlon grinned and misquoted, "Life is real, life is earnest, and thegravy is my goal. " Then he sobered and said, "'Cause with money you cando anything. When I've made a big pile, then I can go where I want togo, be what I want to be, and make people know I'm somebody. "

Philander shrugged. "Maybe you're right, but I'd say there were betterways, George. "

Hanlon looked doubtful. "I have the utmost respect for your ideas andgreater experience, sir, but what's better than a big wad of credits. "

Philander looked more seriously thoughtful than Hanlon had ever seen himbefore. He was silent a moment, then answered slowly, "This may sound'old-mannish, ' but I believe steady advancement in whatever work youchoose; growing knowledge of many things; creative imagination put toconstructive use; the growing respect and consequent advance inresponsibility from your employers if you're working for someone, orfrom your neighbors if you're in business for yourself--those thingsare, in my opinion, of much greater value than the mere accumulation ofmoney. And the best part of it is, that if you grow in those ways, thatextra money will come to you, but merely as a corollary addition to thegreater achievements. "

"I see your point, " Hanlon was greatly impressed by Philander'searnestness. "Maybe you're right. I'm still just a kid, I guess, with akid's immature outlook. That's why I appreciate your friendship andadvice so much, sir. You've been almost like a second father to me. "This was honest--he liked Philander now more than ever. 

The look on the elder's face, too, defied description, but that he wassecretly pleased was evident. 

"Well, run along then, and I'll get at that letter. Meanwhile get yourthings packed, so you'll be ready to leave when the ship comes. AndGeorge, my boy, I do hope you come back. It'll be mighty lonely herewithout you. "

"I'll certainly do my best to get back, sir. Goodnight, and thanksagain . . . For everything. "

Hanlon hated that seeming lie, and as he walked slowly back to his roomhe determined to get the man away from those plotters, and into a betterand more legitimate position. 

He would certainly so recommend to the Secret Service High Command afterthis mess was cleaned up. 

The next days Hanlon spent almost his entire shift-time undergroundtalking earnestly to Geck. 

"I want to impress on the minds of you and all the natives here thatI'll be working my hardest for them every minute I'm gone, " he saidimpressively. "Don't let them do anything foolish unless or until itbecomes completely sure that I've failed. If I can do anything at all, it should be within a quarter year after I leave, and probably muchsooner. If I succeed, you'll all be free, and these men either chasedoff your planet or killed. "

"All we understand, An-yon. We know you are true friend, know you wantto help us. We will keep working, make no attempts to escape. We know ifdo we just be killed, or hunted and caught again. Condition of we beforeyou come so bad we had come to feel only end for us be death of race. Now you bring hope. Now we know most humans good people, so we wait inhope you soon succeed. "

"That's the spirit. I know it's tough on all of you, but I also knowwhat the Inter-Stellar Corps is, and what they can and will do when theylearn of your plight. "

He linked his mind with Geck's as the latter telepathed the natives inother parts of the planet, and was thus enabled to get finaldescriptions of what they could tell of what was being done at each mineand factory and shipyard. He knew exactly how many ships had been builtor were under construction, and approximately how far along the hulls ofthe big ones were completed. He was also able to get a very good generalknowledge of the size and structural description of each type of vessel. 

But of their armaments or propulsive methods he had not been able to getany information--such things were too far beyond the natives' simpleabilities to describe or picture for him. 

Hanlon's ability to telepath, through Geck, was growing much stronger, although he was still not able to telepath direct to any of the distantGuddus. He could, however, do so to some extent to one close by. 

But he still could not read anything in a human mind except the surfacethoughts. And how he could use that ability! With that, his task wouldbe much simpler. 

But he had learned to be content with what he had, realizing it wasundoubtedly unique in human history. It had brought him this far along, and he had collected a lot of information which he could not have gainedin any other manner--information that he could report to the Corps assoon as he got back to Simonides and had the chance to go to the bank orcontact them in some other way. 

"Liberation Day, " as Hanlon had taken to calling it in his mind, finallyarrived. He was all packed and waiting for the ship. When it was sightedhe and Philander went to the field to meet it. 

When the captain came out, the three stood in conversation while thecrew hurriedly unloaded the supplies they had brought, and those leavinghad gone aboard. The captain handed Philander some letters, but thelatter shoved them in his pocket for the time beings without stopping tolook at them. 

Finally it was time for blast-off, and Hanlon said his last farewells tothe superintendent, then went in to stow his bags in his stateroom andprepare for take-off. He had expected to be locked in again, and merelytried the door out of curiosity. But to his surprise it wasn't locked, so he went out. He was wise enough not to attempt to invade the controlroom, but did hunt up a viewing-screen and strap himself into the chairbefore it. 

He manipulated the dials and had just got an outside view as the pilotbegan activating the tubes. Hanlon saw Philander come running from thelittle path through the jungle, back toward the field, waving a letter, trying to attract attention. 

But evidently neither the captain, pilot nor any watch officer saw him, for at that moment the great wash of flame from the tubes blotted outthe scene, and Hanlon was forced deeply into his acceleration chair asthe ship lifted gravs. 

The trip back was uneventful. Hanlon kept careful track of the time, andstrained all his spaceman's senses properly to evaluate their speed. Asthe ship braked for the landing on Simonides he completed hiscalculations, and was quite sure the distance between the two planetswas twelve and a quarter light years, plus or minus not over twopercent, and that Algon was somewhere near right ascension eighteenhours, and declination plus fifteen degrees. 

As he passed through the airlock and started down the plank, he wassurprised and a bit dismayed to see Panek and two of the other gunmen hehad seen in that back room, waiting for him, their faces impassive andunreadable. 

"A welcoming committee, eh?" he greeted them with a smile that tried tocover his disappointment. "Hiya, Panek! Hi, fellows!"

But his heart was doing flip-flops. These men were not here just becausethey were glad to see him, of that he was sure. He probed their mindsand even before Panek spoke, he knew. 

"The boss sent us to bring you to see him first thing, the boss did, "Panek's voice was gruff, yet somewhat friendly. 

"That's mighty nice of him, " Hanlon tried not to let his feelings show, but to take this as a natural courtesy. But he had so much wanted to getto the bank immediately. "I was coming to report, of course, " hecommented. "Got a letter for him from Superintendent Philander. Besides, I got a flock of credits coming. Boy, did I earn 'em! That's a stinking, hot planet up there. It'll be good seeing the bright lights again, besides living in a decent climate once more. "

The two men grunted a mysterious laugh, but Panek merely indicated theway to the aircar. Again Hanlon was blindfolded, but now he didn'tcare--he knew the location of this crater field. 

There was silence during most of the trip. Hanlon babbled away at first, but when no one answered him he gradually slowed his words and finallyshut up entirely. 

His mind probings told him he was in for a rough time, and he got thefeeling he was not supposed to be there at all, for some reason. 

"Oh, oh!" he thought, almost in panic. "Something's wrong. Did I slipsomewhere? Have they got wind of what I've learned? But how . . . Howcould they?"

Instead of taking him to the back room of the Bacchus, Hanlon found whenthe blindfold was finally removed that he was in a stone-walled roomthat he sensed was a sort of cellar in some huge building. It was bareof furniture except for two chairs and the glo-lights, one of which wason a standard like a spotlight. 

Before he had time to try to puzzle things out, the door opened and theman he had thought of merely as "the leader" came in and sat down in oneof the chairs. He gestured, and the men pushed Hanlon into the facingseat, and adjusted the glo-light so it shone in his eyes. Then rangedthemselves behind him. 

"So, you got back?" the Leader said softly. 

"Sure, " Hanlon made himself act as though nothing was out of the way, but it was an effort to smile and talk naturally when his mouth wassuddenly dry and his nerves tightened almost to the screaming point. "Mytime was up, so Mr. Philander sent me back. I've got a letter for youfrom him. "

He started to reach into his pocket, but Panek slapped his hand down, and snaked the letter out, handing it to the Leader, who opened it andread it silently. 

Then the man looked up, his face puzzled. "You seem tohave . . . Uh . . . Done very well there, " he said almost pleasantly. "Oursuperintendent reports you made an excellent guard. He seems very pleasedwith you. "

"I told you I'd do everything I could to make good, " Hanlon answered, but now he made his voice sound very aggrieved. "What's the big idea ofall this? Seems like a mighty funny reception, after I tried so hard. Why that light in my eyes, and those thugs ready to slug me if I bat aneye-lash. It's almost like you don't trust me, or something?"

"I'm still not altogether sure we do, " the Leader said slowly. 

"Still harping on that?" Hanlon demanded hotly. "What makes you thinkI'm not on the up and up? I worked hard on that stinking hot planet. Igot out more ore'n anyone else ever did. And my suggestion aboutnitrates . . . "

"Ah, yes, the matter of the . . . Uh . . . Fertilizer. What made you bringthat up?"

"The minute I saw those Greenies I guessed they were animated trees. When I saw how they fed themselves by sticking their fingers in the hutfloor, I figured the dirt would gradually lose whatever nourishment itcontained, same as a farmer's fields soon lose their fertility. Allplants I know about extract nitrogen and other minerals from the soil. So I figured the Greenies would need fertilizer to make up for thedepleted soil in their huts. It seemed simple to me. "

"Ummm. You were right, apparently. It was a great contribution to ourwork, and we are grateful. " He looked at Hanlon a long moment, thenasked sharply, "How did Rellos die?"

"A dog tore out his throat. "

"We know that--but you said you killed him. "

"Who d'you suppose sicced the dog on him? We were walking down thestreet, and I kicked the dog's pup to death. When she charged, I pushedRellos in her path, and it was him the dog killed. "

"Ah! Good! Very unusual! Most . . . Uh . . . Ingenious!" The Leader seemedpleased, but slowly his smile died and he frowned again. "All this makesme want to believe you, Hanlon, but somehow I can't seem to rid myselfof the belief that you still are connected with the Corps. Oh, I know, "as Hanlon started to protest, "all about your dismissal and disgrace, and the fight you had with some of your former classmates a few dayslater. Incidentally, wasn't it rather straining coincidence that it wasan admiral who came along just in time to save you? You see, all thatcould easily have been done on purpose. I'm . . . Uh . . . Not that simple, young man. "

"No, but you're nuts, figuring that way!" disgustedly. 

"I think you will find out differently, " the tone sent shivers throughthe young SS man's nerves, and he had difficulty controlling the impulseto wet his suddenly dry lips. "I may be wrong--I hope most sincerelythat I am--but I haven't so far been able to bring myself to feel so. But I intend to know for sure before we leave this room. Panek, bring inour other . . . Uh . . . Guest. "

Hanlon heard the gunman leave, and in a moment return. He appeared inHanlon's line of vision, pushing before him a manacled man. 

At sight of that other man, Hanlon had to gasp. 

Chapter 19

"Oh!" the Leader said triumphantly as he saw George Hanlon's start ofsurprise. "I see you recognize our guest. "

"Sure I know him, " Hanlon snapped, rigidly forcing himself into control. "That's Abrams. I thought I killed him. "

"Ah, now, did you so?" Again the Leader smiled, but this time grimly. "Now we come to the meat of the matter. You say you thought you killedhim, but you know you didn't. Your pretended assassination in such aclever manner was all a ruse--you didn't poison him at all. You merelypretended to put something in his cup. "

"That's a lie. Maybe it didn't work on him, but I did . . . "

"Sorry, Mr. Hanlon, " the trembling Abrams whined the interruption. "Iwas forced to tell the whole story to His Highness after he found outwhere I was hiding. "

His Highness!

So this was the fabulous monster of whom everyone was so afraid. Hanlon's heart sank to his knees. What chance did he have now? He wouldnever get out of this alive, nor get his report to the Corps. 

"Yes, Mr. Hanlon, " that silky voice mimicked meaningly, and venomously. "We have . . . Uh . . . Ways of making people talk. This Abrams, like afool, was not content to continue working as my secretary. He had to getfoolish notions of ethics and patriotism, and try to . . . Uh . . . Objectto some of my policies. Why did you let him think you were still aCorpsman . . . If you're not?" he snapped suddenly. 

Hanlon made himself stare back insolently. Maybe they would killhim . . . No, be honest, undoubtedly they would . . . But by the Shade ofSnyder they weren't going to make him show the fear he felt. 

"Use your head, Pal. I had to make an impression on Panek so he'dintroduce me to someone here on Sime who'd show me how to make somefast, big money, which is all I'm after, " he retorted with a bravado hecertainly didn't feel, but which he hoped would make them think he did. "When I found Panek was going to bump off Abrams, I horned in on it. Andwhat easier way to make Abrams play ball with me--I had nothing againsthim, and didn't want to really kill him--than to let him think I wasstill a Corpsman, after he'd seen me when I was still a cadet. I didn'tknow he'd turn yellow and squeal. "

He looked contemptuously at Abrams, then turned back to the leader andmade his voice very earnest, very emphatic. "But I've told you thetruth! I am not still connected with that rotten outfit, and you'rewrong if you think I am!"

"Don't lie to His Highness!" Panek interjected. "He don't like to belied to--he don't like it. "

"Aw shut up and keep out of this, small fry!" Hanlon sneered, and wasrewarded with a hard blow on the side of his head that made him wince. But His Highness intervened. 

"That will do, Panek. I'll handle this. Now, Hanlon, I think you hadbetter do some very serious thinking. You can see why we are stillskeptical of you. Everything points against you . . . Uh . . . Except yourown word, and the fact that you so apparently did work hard and for ourbest interests at the mine. That point, I readily grant you, is verymuch in your favor. I am being very patient with you because, if you aretelling the truth, you can be a very valuable man to me. You do havereal ability, and other assets. But if you are not wholly for us, youare distinctly in our way. "

"I tell you . . . "

"Don't interrupt, please. I might inform you that I sent you to theother planet both to test you and to keep you out of the way while weinvestigated further and I could reach a decision. You were not supposedto come back yet. I sent Philander a letter to that effect, but hespace-radioed you were already on the way back when he read it. "

A light dawned on Hanlon as memory skipped back to that take-off. Philander had merely stuck the mail in his pocket when it was given him, and evidently started reading it on his way back to the mine. Thatexplained his running back, waving a letter and trying to attractattention just at blast-off. 

That small part of his mind that was paying attention to the men in theroom heard His Highness say "take Abrams away. He . . . Uh . . . Is of nofurther use to us. And wait outside until I call--all of you. "

When they had gone His Highness leaned forward, and Hanlon knew he hadbetter pay strict attention and keep his wits about him for any openingto improve his perilous position. 

"I'll speak more frankly, now that we are alone, Hanlon. I am impressedwith you. I think you have . . . Uh . . . Tremendous abilities, and I wantyou on my side. But I have to be sure. I would advise you, for your owngood, to be honest and frank with me. "

"I am being, but you won't believe me, " Hanlon said earnestly. "When Itake a man's pay, sir, I give him everything I've got. You gave me achance at the kind of money I want to make, and I'm doing everything Ican to earn both the money and your trust. I was kicked out of theCorps, and I'll do _anything_ I can to get even!"

"As I said before, we have . . . Uh . . . Ways of making you tell us thetruth, " the Leader continued as though Hanlon had not interrupted, "butyou would not be any good either to us or the Corps or yourself if wehave to use . . . Uh . . . Persuasion. I don't want to see you broken. Youmay remember you once asked me if I could 'dish it out'? Let me assureyou that I can. "

"But how can I prove anything when you've already made up your mind notto believe me?" Hanlon asked plaintively. "I'm doing my best to make youbelieve. I'll admit some of those points you've brought up could lookfishy if viewed from one standpoint, but I assure you you're putting thewrong interpretation on them. If you'll look at them from my viewpointyou'll see they are just as true. "

His Highness regarded Hanlon silently but with a steady concentrationfor some minutes. "That might be true. I had about begun to believe youwhen we found Abrams, and when we questioned him he . . . Uh . . . Admittedwhat you had done, and why. That revived my doubts. Are you willing tobe tested under a truth drug?"

Hanlon almost gasped in dismay, but stifled it. He knew only too wellthe efficacy of modern truth drugs. They would reveal every thought andbit of knowledge he had ever had--all about the Corps, the SecretService and everything. 

That hurt look came back into his face. "You sure are asking a lot, sir, " he said. "I haven't anything to conceal from you, but no man likesto have his whole mind invaded that way--all his private thoughts andfeelings. I don't see why you need suggest such a thing. I've told youthe truth on matters you want to know about. "

"You appear to have done so, and I honestly want to believe you. For yousee, Hanlon, I want you with me. You're my kind of a man. I like youbecause you have tremendous drive and imagination and ability--yes, and perhaps a bit because you're the only man I've ever met whowasn't . . . Uh . . . Afraid of me. I have tremendous plans for thefuture--and I would like to have you as my chief aide in them. I wouldtrain you as you've never guessed it possible for a man to be trained. And then, _together, Hanlon, we could rule the Universe_!"

But George Hanlon was only half-listening, even to that last, thatshocking, that totally unexpected proposition, his real goal. Here wasthe plot he had been seeking, the plot the Corps needed so desperatelyto know. Yet his personal crisis was, for the moment, more important ifhe was ever to be of any further benefit to the Secret Service or theCorps. To use his just-discovered knowledge, something else must comefirst. 

His mind, therefore, was seeking a way out. He well knew that once thetruth drug was administered--and this Highness would not now besatisfied with anything less--he was as good as dead. They would findout the truth in minutes, and then would have no other recourse but tokill him. 

His spirits sank to nadir with the knowledge that he hadfailed . . . Failed the Secret Service and the Corps, failed his father, failed the Guddus, failed himself. Curiously, perhaps, at that momentthe thought of failure was far more important to him than the imminenceof death, as such. 

He had half-consciously noticed when he first glanced about this room, that there was a small ventilator near the ceiling in one corner. Desperately he pushed his mind through it, and could sense that itopened onto a park-like place, probably around one of the city'spalaces. 

Hanlon finally heard His Highness call, "Panek, you and the others bringme the hypodermic. We'll have to give him the truth serum. I'm sorry, Hanlon, " he addressed himself now to the young man, "but this is theonly way. I hope we won't have to use enough to harm you, but thatdepends on your co-operation. If you will tell us the truth quickly andwillingly I can, as I said . . . Uh . . . Use you, and you will profitgreatly by it. "

Hanlon didn't struggle when they bound him firmly in the chair withmanacles on hands and feet. He knew it would be useless anyway. He lethis body slump into his chair, and again directed his mind through thatvent. He must not let them defeat him! He had to survive--to getword--to the Corps!

Then his searching mind contacted another--a weak, primitive one, but amind. Avidly he fastened onto it, merged with it . . . And found himselfinside the brain of one of those Simonidean pigeons. 

Ah! This is wonderful! Pigeons seldom fly alone. Where you find one youalmost always find a number. Activating the bird's brain he sent out acall to others of its kind that it had found food in abundance. Soonmore and more of them flew down to where the now enslaved pigeon wasstanding, and as each one came, Hanlon sent into its brain all of hismind it would hold. 

Inside the cellar room His Highness rose and stepped up to Hanlon'sbody, the hypodermic in his hand. "Remove his coat and roll up hissleeve, " he directed Panek, and the small part of Hanlon's mind stillremaining in his body felt the latter doing so, and an instant later, the prick of the needle. 

Slowly at first, then with increasing swiftness he felt his remainingmind growing numb and his will weaken. His body slumped against therestraining manacles. 

"Can you hear me, George Hanlon?" he dimly heard His Highness' voice. 

"Yes. " It sounded like a whisper. 

"Are you a member of the Inter-Stellar Corps?"

"I . . . I . . . ", he struggled not to answer. 

"Tell me!"

"I . . . I . . . " and then, in a last desperate effort to keep from tellingwhat he must not tell, George Hanlon did a thing he had never daredattempt before. He sent all the remaining parts of his mind into thelast of the pigeons. 

One of the first birds he had already sent into the ventilator so hecould look through it into the room below. He got it there just in timeto hear the Leader's gasp of dismay as he saw Hanlon's body slump stillfurther in apparent lifelessness. 

"Is he dead, Boss, is he?" he heard Panek's anxious cry. 

His Highness felt the pulse in Hanlon's wrist and the one in his throat. "No, he's still alive. "

The man stood there in deep thought, his forehead creased with a frownof concentration. "There's something peculiarly wrong here, " the Leaderfinally said aloud. "Something very wrong and very strange. This isn'tan ordinary fainting spell. It's . . . Uh . . . Beyond my previousexperience. "

He straightened and addressed Hanlon's body once more. "Can you stillhear me, George Hanlon?"

There was no answer, no slightest indication that his words were heard. He reached forward and lifted the body into a more upright position inthe chair. "Answer me, George Hanlon. Do you hear me? I command you totell me, are you a Corpsman?"

Still no answer, no twitch of muscle, no movement of awareness. He shookthe body a little, and raised his voice still more. 

"I demand an answer, George Hanlon! The truth drug must make you speak!"

But only silence, and when he let go of the body it fell backward intothe chair, and the head lolled forward as though the neck was broken. 

"Let me work on him, Boss, " Panek pleaded. "Let me give him a goingover, let me. "

Barely waiting to see that His Highness did not forbid it, the thugraised a short, ugly piece of rubber hose, and struck the unresistingbody again and again--across the face, over the top and back of thehead, vicious blows at the ribs and even in the groin. 

But he might as well have been pounding a sack of meal. The body saggedbeneath the blows, and became bloody and discolored, but no movement--noconscious movement--did it make. 

"That will do, Panek, " His Highness finally commanded. "Thatdoes no good. This I cannot understand, but I do know thereis . . . Uh . . . Something most peculiar here. It is almost asthough . . . ", he paused and frowned again. "But that is ridiculous!"

"What's ridiculous, Boss, what is?"

"It is almost as though there was . . . Uh . . . No mind left in the body, "His Highness said slowly. Then, abruptly, "Are you sure that wastruth-serum in that hypodermic?"

"You fixed it yourself, Boss. "

His Highness wheeled suddenly, rudely awakened from his thinking by theloud _shoo_-ing noise one of the guards was making. He was astonished tosee the man making vain motions toward a pigeon whose head was stickingthrough, the ventilator vanes. 

But the bird didn't leave. 

"Stop it!" the Leader commanded impatiently. "We've more import . . . "

He checked himself, and turned back to stare wonderingly at the bird, which peered back at him with apparently unfrightened, beady eyes, turning its head to first one side and then the other, as though betterto see all that was going on. 

"That's peculiar, " His Highness said thoughtfully. "I never saw a birdact like that before. Hmmm, I wonder?. . . But no, that's absurd. "

He turned back to Hanlon's body as though disgusted with himself forentertaining such a fantastic notion. Hands behind his back, that scowlof concentration engraving deep lines on his face, the Leader pacedforth and back across the floor of the little room, his glance ever andagain returning to stare in exasperation at that slumped-over, dead-but-alive body. 

Who was this amazing young man? What sort of talents and abilities didhe possess, that he could react thus to a truth-serum? Had he been sotreated by the Corps experts that his mind would be blanked out in suchemergencies? Was he some kind of a mutant with powers never beforeknown? Or--startling thought--was he actually a human being at all?

Better than anyone else, His Highness could appreciate the fact that theuniverse contained many types of sentient and highly mental life otherthan those originating on Terra. Since he had come here to Simonides, and had wormed his way into the very highest position beneath itsemperor--a weak old man he had had no trouble dominating--he wasnaturally suspicious of anyone who might be attempting to discover andwreck his carefully-laid plans. 

Such a one, he was now convinced, was this young Hanlon. It would be thesimplest thing to kill this almost-dead body now, but that would notsolve this baffling problem. If Hanlon, perhaps others of the Corps hadsimilar powers. No, one with such abilities must not be killed. He mustbe kept and studied, and the secret learned if possible. 

But his thoughts were interrupted by Panek. "That fool bird's stillthere, still there. Is it another of your pets, Boss?"

His Highness wheeled. He had forgotten the bird. Was it possible thatHanlon had, in some inexplicable manner, transferred . . . On the surfaceit was an absurd concept. But, there were magicians on his home planetwho could do things almost as unfathomable. 

He suddenly made up his mind. "Kill it!" he commanded. 

Whatever else he was or was not, Panek was fast with a gun. The wordswere hardly spoken when he had drawn and fired. 

Chapter 20

The twentieth part of Hanlon's mind activating the pigeon in theventilator, commanded it to scramble back out the moment he sensed whatthat command would be. But it wasn't quick enough. 

He felt the burning sensation along the bird's side, and the agony itsuffered. The wing had been almost severed by the shot, and its life wasswiftly ebbing. 

He had to get out of that body and quick . . . But there were no morepigeons around except the other nineteen he was already occupying. Nordid any of them have brain capacity enough to contain more than atwentieth of his mind. 

Desperately he sent the rest of the flock swirling into the air, seekingother life-forms nearby. There were no other pigeons close enough tohear their calls nor to get there in time if they did, for the woundedbird was dying fast. 

Nor were there any dogs about, nor cats, nor animals of any kind to beseen. In desperation Hanlon even tried the trees or plants there, to seeif they had minds like the Guddus--but none of them did. 

He dreaded to think what would happen if the brain that a portion of hismind was occupying died while in his control. Would that part of hismind then be lost? He had no way of knowing, nor was he anxious tochance it, for he was terribly afraid it would be so. And he certainlyhad proved he had no mind to spare, he thought in disgust. He had reallymade a mess of this mission. The only way he could get word to the Corpswas through his body, and if he sent his mind back into that now he wasa deader duck than he seemed to be. For even that twentieth part couldbe made to talk. 

_Why didn't those pigeons hurry?_

Yet he knew they were searching frantically. This was the weirdestsensation imaginable. People had often expressed the wish they, could bein two places at once . . . He was in twenty. And each body was connectedwith the others by a thin thread of consciousness, yet was thinking andacting independently. 

His composite mind almost grinned. If anyone had told him a year agosuch a thing was possible, he would have called for the paddy-wagon andrushed that person to the nearest nut-house. 

The other parts of his mind were flying all about the enclosed park thatwas a part of the great palace, searching, desperately seeking someother form of life that could be used as a housing for the dying part ofHanlon's mind. 

Suddenly one of them uttered a cry that drew the rest to it on swiftpinions, to see attached to one of the trees a huge swarm of Simonideanbees. 

"Will the queen do?" the one mind-portion asked anxiously. 

There was a convulsive shudder in all the minds, for the birds knew--andHanlon had heard--how deadly poisonous these native bees were; how theywere hunted down and exterminated when found. They were twice the size, and many, many times more vicious and deadly than Terran bees. Even nowtwo gardeners were running toward the tree with a great metal net andflame-throwers. 

But Hanlon was desperate. "She will have to do, " the aggregate minddecided. 

Instantly, then, the part of his mind in the dying bird detached itselfand entered the brain of the Queen Bee. There were long, dishearteningmoments of twisting and struggling to fit into that strange, viciousinsect brain. He finally managed to take control, yet was not fully enrapport. Sight through her multi-faceted eyes was very nearly impossiblewith the little time he could give to learning their texture. 

But the close rapport between the various portions of his mind was agood guide. The Queen flew swiftly towards that ventilator, her swarmfollowing closely at her command. 

Into and through the vent she flew, and almost before the four meninside were aware of the strange buzzing, she was directing her swarmtowards them. 

"Bees!" Panek yelled in terror, and the four started fighting thehundreds that swarmed all over each of them. That may have been theirmistake--had Panek and the other two stood perfectly still it was a barepossibility they might have survived, although in Hanlon's grimlydetermined frame of mind that was now doubtful. 

Not that Hanlon was angry, even at Panek for the terrible beating of hisunconscious body. For he realized it was the man's cruel, sadisticnature; that he could not have acted otherwise. 

But Hanlon knew now that the peace of the Federation demanded that helive and be free to make his report, and only the death of His Highnessand the others could now possibly save him. 

So, much as it sickened him, Hanlon had to keep on, and as thosebee-stings plunged in their hundreds into the four, the poison workingfar more swiftly than does the venom of Terrestrial bees--more akin tothat of the mamba--one after another of the four fell to the floor andwere quiet--stung to death. 

Hanlon then sent the Queen and her swarm back outside, after firstimpressing on her mind that she must fly far away if she was to survive. He could not send her to her death by the gardeners after she had savedhis life. 

As she flew away he recalled his mind back from her and the nineteenbirds, into his body. He sat erect once more--but instantly such a tideof pain washed over him that he nearly fainted. For all the agony ofthat terrible beating hit him at once. 

His mind, too, was sluggish and slow once it was back in his own brainwhere that drug had taken effect. But he felt a sense of satisfactionand gratitude that he had come safely thus far through that terribleordeal. The drug would wear off, the wounds would heal, and the painwould disappear in time. Meanwhile, he was alive . . . Impossible as itseemed, he was _alive_!

But George Hanlon had enough mind-power functioning in spite of thetruth-drug, to realize he was not yet out of the pit. His body was stillmanacled to the chair, that in turn was fastened to the floor so hecould not move it. 

He was still inside the palace of the conspirators, and it wouldundoubtedly not be too long before someone would enter the room seekingHis Highness, and would find him and the dead men. 

For desperate minutes Hanlon considered every angle of the matter, andfound only one possibility that might offer some chance of release andsafety. 

Once more he sent a portion of his mind out through the ventilator andfound one of the pigeon-like birds still nearby. Again he tookpossession and crowded into its tiny brain all of his mind it wouldhold. Then the bird was swiftly winging its way up and over the roofs ofthe palace, into the dusky sky. 

High in the air it floated on out-spread pinions while he surveyed thecity beneath him, hunting for landmarks. He quite easily located thedowntown section because its lights were being turned on now thatevening was here. 

That oriented him, but the fact that it was so late brought dismay. Would the Corps officers have gone home? And if so, how could he locateany of them, tonight, with whom he could possibly communicate? He hadnot thought of that before--he had been thinking of himself as a man, not as a bird. 

But even as these baffling thoughts and questions were plaguing him, hewas flying as swiftly as the bird's wings would carry him, directlytowards the great building that housed the Corps' contingent here onSimonides. 

Actually, it was only minutes until the bird was outside the greatstructure, and rapidly looking into windows. Lights were blazing inalmost every room, and Hanlon's mind knew thankfulness that so many ofthe high officers were still at work. 

Window after window the bird peered through in furious haste, searchingfor an admiral's office. If it could get inside, Hanlon had thought ofseveral ways in which it might communicate . . . Providing the admiral wasnot an orthodox brass hat. 

But, he told himself to maintain courage, any man who could gain as higha position as any of the various types of admirals would have had toshow his resourcefulness time and again. You just didn't get that highin the Corps otherwise. 

Luck and persistence achieved his ends, for he finally located theoffices of the Planetary Admiral, himself, and that officer and hissecretary were still inside at work. 

Hanlon made the bird land on the window sill, and then begin tappingwith its beak on the glass. Time and again it did this, until the twoinside, attracted by the sound, looked about for its source. 

"Look, Admiral Hawarden, it's a pigeon, tapping on the window, " thesecretary laughed. 

"Must think there's something to eat in here, " the officer grinned back. 

"It really acts as though it was trying to attract our attention, " thegirl commented a few seconds later. 

"Hmmm, I wonder, " the admiral spoke half aloud, then as the bird kept upits purposeful tapping he recognized the Inter-Stellar code S O S. Quickly he rose, went to the window, opened it, and stepped back. 

The bird, showing no fear of the humans, entered and flew to his desk. The secretary had also risen, and now shrank back against the wall, herhand at her mouth stifling a scream. 

"It's magic, " she said in fright. "No bird ever acted like that. "

"It certainly is unusual, " he said, and his eyes were puzzled. "I can'tmake it out. "

The bird flew toward the officer, and with fluttering wings poised inthe air before him, its beady, bright eyes peering directly into his. Then it flew toward the door. When the admiral made no move to follow, the bird repeated the performance. 

"It seems almost as though it wanted me to go somewhere with it, " theofficer said in a dazed manner. "Are we dreaming this, Thelma?"

"I . . . I don't know, sir. We . . . We must be, " she stammered. "It justcouldn't be possible otherwise. "

But now the bird apparently noticed something else in the room, for itflew over to the secretary's desk and alighted on it. It hopped up toher electro-writer. 

That was too much. The girl rushed over, waving her hands. "Shoo!" shescolded. "Get off my desk, you crazy creature!"

But Admiral Hawarden was no fool. This was far beyond any experience hehad ever had, but there was such a purposefulness in the bird's actions, strange and unusual though they were, that he felt this little dramashould be played out without interruption. 

"Leave it alone!" he commanded sharply in a tone that startled her, sodifferent was it from his usual polite manner. 

Looking at him in astonishment, she stepped back, and watched with himthis unprecedented action. 

With its foot Hanlon made the bird throw the little switch thatactivated the writing mechanism, and then with its beak began pecking atthe keys. Luckily there was paper in the machine, a letter she had notfinished. The admiral stepped up to where he could see, but waved thegirl back when she started to follow. It seemed impossible that the birdcould write anything sensible . . . But the admiral was beginning to benot too sure of that. 

His eyes opened wide with surprise as he saw the letters appear one byone on the paper:

a n d r m a 7

No longer did he doubt. How it was possible, the future might tell. Buthe did know the significance and the urgency of that message. He rippedthe paper from the machine and pocketed it, then jumped to his desk andflipped the intercom switch. 

"Captain Jessup! A company of marines, in full armor and all weapons, atthe main gate in trucks in two minutes. _Hipe!_"

He ran to a cabinet in one corner of the room and threw open the door. "Come and help me!" he commanded the astonished girl, dragging his ownlong-unused space armor out and starting to climb into it. With her helphe was completely encased in the minute, and was strapping on hisweapons. "You can go home now, " he told her. 

He turned to the desk where the bird was watching with its beady eyes, and held out his arm curved at the elbow. With a quick swish of wingsthe pigeon launched itself toward the suited figure and rested on theout-stretched wrist. 

The admiral plunged through the door and into the hall, where hisprivate elevator waited. "Ground!" he yelled, and the bird was liftedfrom his wrist by the sudden plunging descent, but fluttered back androde that wrist as the admiral dashed out of the elevator, through thehalls and out the front door to the waiting, marine-filled trucks. Willing hands hauled him aboard the lead truck, and he threw the pigeoninto the air. 

"Follow that bird!" he commanded, and the incredulous driver did so, wondering secretly if the Old Man had suddenly gone bats. 

When he saw beyond doubt the bird's destination, Admiral Hawardengasped, but he was too old a campaigner to be stopped now. There wassomething here that needed himself and his men, and he would go throughwith it, no matter where it led. 

He knew the calibre of the men of the Secret Service, and while he couldnot know how it was possible for one of them to train a bird in such amanner, he knew his job was to back up whatever that high-poweredindividual was doing. 

As the trucks skidded to a halt at the entrance of the Prime Minister'sornate palace, he issued swift commands. His men, disregarding theindignant cries of the palace guards, who swarmed out to stop thisunbelievable invasion of their rights, deployed to their designatedpositions, weapons at the ready. 

To the officer of the guard who tried to bar his way, the admiralsnapped, "I'll apologize later. Now get out of my way!" Then, with asquad of husky marines at his heels, he followed the fluttering pigeonthrough the opened door, along a hall, and down some stairs. 

But here the bird seemed at a loss, fluttering from door to door, seeking that certain room. 

As Hanlon had so shrewdly guessed, Admiral Hawarden was no fool, butquick on the up-take. "Open all these doors!" his voice rang outcommandingly. 

As fast as doors were opened--whether locked or not made no differenceto the marines--the pigeon darted forward and glanced into each onebefore flying on the next. Then it disappeared through one of thedoorways, and the admiral, who had kept as close to it as possible, yelled "Here!" and ran into the room, his men streaming after him. 

"Welcome to out cozy nest, Mister, " a voice from the depths of a bigchair called, and the officer ran forward to where he could see. "Youcertainly made time, and am I happy to see you soldiers. Get me out ofthese things, " and Hanlon rattled his chains. 

At the admiral's gesture the marines made short work of the manacles, and Hanlon stood up, tottered a moment and would have fallen but for thequickly extended friendly arm of the admiral. He was still groggy, eventhough the serum was wearing off. But he was almost in complete controlof his mind. 

"We got here in time, then?" anxiously. 

"Yes, thanks to my little friend here. " Hanlon took the bird, and handedit to one of the marines, meanwhile impressing on its mind that it wassafe among friends. "Look after her. " And withdrew his mind. 

"She gets good care the rest of her life, " the admiral ordered thewondering marines. "Wait outside. "

Hawarden looked about the room. "Who are these men . . . And what inSnyder's name happened to them?"

"They were stung to death by bees, " Hanlon said, and there was a traceof vindictiveness in his voice. "One of 'em's the Prime Minister; theothers his gunmen. "

"Great John!" the admiral breathed. "This'll raise a stink!"

"There'll be a bigger one before I get through, " Hanlon was grim. "Getme back to your office, and get a doctor. They gave me truth serum, andit hasn't all worn off yet. And I'm hungry, " he added so plaintivelythat Hawarden, accustomed enough to sight of death so it didn't affecthim too much, laughed. 

"What'll we do with the bodies?"

"Guard the Prime Minister's closely. Merely notify the people here whereto find the others. "

Hawarden called back two of the marines. "Bring that body with us, " andthey left. 

At the entrance the admiral recalled his men. To the palace officer hepartially explained. "The Prime Minister was killed, and we're takinghis body with us. There are three of his men, also dead, in Room 37-Bdown there. I'll notify the Emperor, and assume full responsibility. "

He jumped into the truck's front seat beside Hanlon and the driver. 

"Back to base!"

Chapter 21

The doctor, notified by the truck's short-wave, was waiting in theadmiral's office to give Hanlon the shots of antidote and attend to hiswounds. He had barely finished when a waiter brought food. 

These two gone, Hawarden felt free to demand of Hanlon, "Open up, please. What's this all about?"

"Full coverage?" Hanlon asked meaningly. 

The admiral flipped a couple of toggle switches on his desk. "There isnow. "

"I'll tell you the story in a bit, but there are several more things tobe done, fast. "

He described the location of the hidden spacefield. "Get some scouts outthere quick, but if the freighter's not ready to leave, have 'em keephidden and merely watch it. I don't want anything done until just beforetake-off--it's important we arrest _all_ of its crew and passengers. "

"Right!" Admiral Hawarden turned to his communicators, and orders rappedout. 

"You'll have to tell me procedure here, sir, for I don't know how to getwhat I need. I want to recommend that the entire Corps fleet rendezvousnear here immediately so we can go to a planet called Algon, and take itover. But first we'll have to find out exactly where in space Algon is. May I talk with your planetographers, please?"

The admiral looked at him quizzically. "You haven't been in the SS verylong, have you, Hanlon?"

"No, " the young man looked up in surprise. "This is my first assignment. Why do you ask?"

"Because in emergencies such as this you give orders, not ask forpermission. Every resource of the entire Corps is yours to command whenyou feel it necessary. "

"Why . . . Why, I didn't realize that, " Hanlon shrank back inastonishment. "You . . . You mean they'd let a pup like me issue commandsto the whole Corps?"

"They certainly would, sir. I don't know if you realize it yet or not, but no one gets into the Secret Service unless the High Command ispretty sure they are exceedingly high-powered individuals. So whateveryou want, just yell. I am entirely at your service. "

There was a moment of incredulity in the young man's eyes, then hestraightened, and that depth of character which the men in command hadforeseen came to the surface, and he issued crisp orders. "Very well, sir, I'll take you at your word. Please connect me with theplanetographers, then get me the High Admiral. "

Hawarden activated the intercom, and when a face appeared on the screenordered, "Give this young man any information he wants. "

"Do you know a planet named 'Algon' or 'Guddu'?" Hanlon asked. "It'sabout twelve and a quarter light years distant, right ascension abouteighteen hours, declination around plus fifteen degrees. Here's a roughchart of what I could see from there. " He held up to his screen a sheeton which he had been busily, marking such super-giant suns and nebulaeas he remembered. ". . . You don't know it? Then find it immediately. Rushit through. I must have its closest approximation inside of two hours!"

He closed that switch and looked up as Admiral Hawarden handed him amicrophone. "Grand Fleet High Admiral Ferguson is awaiting your orders, sir. "

George Hanlon's young hand was shaking as he took the mike, but hisvoice was steady and crisp. "Admiral Ferguson, sir, this is GeorgeHanlon of the Secret Service. I was detailed to the Simonidean affair. I've just returned from a planet I know both as 'Algon' and as 'Guddu. 'The planetographers are checking now for its exact location. 

"The enemy--and I don't yet know entirely who they are, although thePrime Minister of Simonides was one of the top men, if not the actualhead--are building a great fleet there. They already have at leastthirty-two capital ships in building, and each one of them is abouttwice the size of our largest battleship. Yes, that's right--twice thesize. However, as near as I could find out, none of them are yet farenough completed to fly, and perhaps not even to fight. They also havenearly a hundred medium and light cruisers, and over two hundred smallerships--scouts, destroyers and so on. Many of those latter twoclassifications are fully completed and at least partially manned. 

"That fleet must be captured or destroyed before they can get itfinished. I know you realize that better than I, sir, but it must betaken care of immediately. . . . Oh, no, sir, you can't just blast theplanet. There are natives there that are high enough in the culturalscale so the planet cannot be colonized, but they must be freed from theslavery under which they are now held. They are fine, friendlypeople. . . . You'll rendezvous the fleet immediately? That's fine, sir. Oh, one more thing, please notify SSM Regional Admiral Newton to sendall available SS men here at once. There's a lot of cleaning up to dohere on Simonides. . . . Thank you, sir, I hope I was in time with thisinformation. "

Hanlon broke the connection, then sank back into his chair for minutes, thinking seriously, and the admiral respected his silence. But after atime the smell of that delicious food made Hanlon's hunger and weaknessreassert itself. Feeling he had done all he could at the moment, he satup again, pulled his chair closer to the desk, and lifted the napkinfrom the tray. 

"I'll talk while I eat, if you'll pardon the discourtesy, sir, " hebegan, picking up knife and fork. And as he ate he gave Hawarden as fullan account of the situation as he could, except for references to hismental abilities and the part they had played. 

The admiral listened attentively, and when Hanlon paused at what seemedthe end of his narrative, the officer straightened with determination. 

"Then the thing to do now is to find out who all is in back of this. That's why you asked for all available SS men, I understand that. Butabout His Highness--was he top man?"

Hanlon knit his forehead in concentration. "I . . . Don't . . . Know, " hesaid slowly. "No one ever spoke of anyone as his superior. He's the manthey were all afraid of. . . . " He paused a moment, then said, even moreslowly, "I've a peculiar hunch. I wish you'd have your best physiciansexamine that body. Have 'em use X-rays and fluoroscopes, rather than anautopsy. I'm not entirely convinced he was a human being. "

"What?" There was incredulity in that question. "What gives you thatidea?"

"Sorry, sir, I can't give you my reasons just now, " Hanlon's faceflushed, and his eyes were appealing. "It isn't that I don't trust you, sir, but there's one secret I feel shouldn't be told now. Maybelater--and if I do tell it to anyone outside of SS men, you will be thefirst--you deserve that. "

"Right, sir. I didn't mean to prowl, " the admiral showed no resentment, much to Hanlon's relief. "Your orders go, as I said. "

He touched a stud on his desk and when the doctor's face appeared on thescreen, gave the necessary orders. "Look carefully to see if theinternal arrangement of bones and organs is human--but do not cutwithout specific orders. "

"What about the emperor, sir?" Hanlon asked. "You've undoubtedly formedsome sort of opinion about him. "

"He was a wonderful soldier and executive as a young and as amiddle-aged man, " Hawarden said thoughtfully and, Hanlon sensed, sadly. "It was his grandfather who pulled the original coup that made thisplanet into an empire with himself as first emperor. His son, the secondemperor, was also a very good co-ordinator, and solidified the empirestatus. The present emperor went into the army at sixteen, and roserapidly through sheer merit rather than because his father was emperor. All historians agree on that. Just before he reached thirty he was infull command. He was thirty-six when his father died, and he became thethird emperor. "

"Then you think he may be back of this whatever-it-is?"

"No, " the admiral shook his head. "Somehow I can't quite feel that way. During his first years as emperor he was one of the most co-operative ofall Planetary rulers within the Federation. "

"What about his Prime Minister . . . And by the way, what was his name? Inever heard him called anything but 'His Highness'?"

"His name was Gorth Bohr. He seems to have appeared from nowhere almostovernight--as an important personage, I mean. We've traced him back, andhe came to Simonides about fourteen years ago, from Sirius Three. He'sbeen Prime Minister for about ten years and it has been noticeable thathe has gained more and more power during the past few years, as theemperor has been failing both physically and mentally. "

"I wonder . . . "

"Yes?"

"D'you suppose that failing health and mind could have been caused, instead of natural?"

The admiral was plainly taken aback. "What? Caused?"

Hanlon nodded. "Just that. From what little I know of His Highness hewas just the kind to do a thing like that--and capable of it, too. " Hesank back in deep thought for some time, as did Hawarden. They wereinterrupted by a buzzer from the desk. The admiral sat up quickly andswitched on the intercom. "Yes?"

"Bohr certainly was not a human being, " the doctor reported, and Hanloncould see the surprise and wonder on his face in the screen. "There arestructural differences so far removed from ours that they could notpossibly be Homo Sapiens. "

"Any idea where he came from?" Hanlon asked, and the admiral relayed thequestion. 

"Never saw anything like it before, and I've just made a quick searchthrough all my books here that contain pictures and diagrams of theraces of which we know. "

Hanlon shook his head in resignation and Hawarden, after thanking thedoctor and giving orders for the disposition of the Prime Minister'sbody, disconnected. 

"Is it too late to get an audience with the emperor?" Hanlon sat erect. 

The admiral glanced at his wrist chronom. "Pretty late, but I'll see. "

He had just reached for a switch when his call buzzer sounded, and whenhe activated the screen the planetographer reported, "We can't find anysuch system on our charts. "

Hanlon's spirit sank. "Keep looking!" he ordered. "Check with theastronomers. It's somewhere around there--I just came from that planet. The sun is hot--looks like Sol from inside Venus's orbit, although Idon't think it's as large as Sol. "

Hawarden then put through his call to the imperial palace, his positionas local head of the I-S C getting him fast service. After some hagglingwith the emperor's secretary, and his insistence that it was a matter ofthe utmost importance that could not wait until morning, he was finallytold His Majesty would see him. 

"Got it, " Hawarden rose. "Come along. "

Hanlon started toward the door, then looked down at his torn and dirtyclothing. "I'm not very presentable. "

"We can get you a uniform from the barracks. "

Hanlon thought swiftly. "No, I'd better not chance it, although I'd surelike to. "

The admiral thought a moment, then stepped back to his desk and presseda stud. "Roberts, come in here. "

A young man almost exactly Hanlon's size, wearing civilian clothes, cameinto the office. Hawarden grinned. "Those do?"

The SS man smiled back. "Swell. "

"Strip, " the admiral commanded the astonished clerk. "We need yourclothes in a hurry for this man. Quick, " as the young man hesitated. 

Hanlon was already removing his own. "I'll give you a hundred creditsfor them, Roberts, but this is prime urgent. "

The other laughed then, and started pulling off his suit as fast as hecould. "A hundred'll more than buy me a new one--it's a good bargain. "

The exchange was quickly made. Hanlon gave the clerk his money, then heand the admiral hurried to the palace, where they were ushered withoutdelay toward the emperor's private study. 

"Watch me fairly closely, " Hanlon whispered as they were walking downthe hall. "If I shake my head, he's lying. "

Admiral Hawarden's eyes widened, and though he said nothing, he wasthinking, "This is certainly the most amazing young man I've ever met. Where does the SS get 'em?"

They had barely entered the study when a door on the far side of theroom opened, and the emperor came in, leaning on the arm of an aide. Hesat down heavily behind the ornate desk. 

"Well well well, " he barked pettishly. "What's all this about, sir?What's so important you have to get me out of bed?"

"I am most sorry to have put Your Majesty to such inconvenience, "Admiral Hawarden said diplomatically, "but you will soon see that thisis, indeed, most urgent. It is also very secret, and I respectfullyrequest we be permitted to speak with you alone. "

The emperor waved his hand impatiently, and the aide retired from theroom. 

Admiral Hawarden set a small box on the desk and turned on a switch. "Just a portable spyray block, " he apologized. 

"I know, I know, " came the exasperated voice. "Get on with it, man, I'mtired. "

"Permit me to introduce George Hanlon, of the Corps. We have, first, abit of sad news to give Your Majesty, and then some questions we mosturgently request you to answer as fully as you can. "

The emperor did not look pleased at this suggestion that he bequestioned, but said nothing. 

"Your Prime Minister, Gorth Bohr, was killed a few hours ago, Sire. "

"What?" The emperor sat upright, his face showing the utmostincredulity, but Hanlon's mind-probing had prepared him for thereaction, so he was not surprised to note neither dismay nor regret. 

For the monarch suddenly sank back into his chair, and a long, loudsuspiration of relief came from him. He closed his eyes and his facefinally relaxed a bit. Suddenly he sat bolt upright. "Are you sure?" hebarked. 

"Positive, " the admiral assured him. "The body is at Base, and has beenfor several hours. "

"How did he die?"

"He was stung to death by bees, Sire, " Hanlon answered. 

"Bees?" incredulously. 

"That's right, Sire. He and three of his men were attacked by a swarm ofbees in one of the basement rooms of his palace, and died withinminutes. "

The emperor was silent for moments, mind roiling. Then he shook his headas though almost not daring to believe this news. 

"It may sound strange, Hawarden, " he said at last, "but I do not think Iwas ever as glad of anything in my life as I am of this. He was an evilthing, though I did not even begin to suspect it until years after Iappointed him my Minister. By the time I felt sure, it was too late. Hehad . . . Gotten some sort of a hold over me . . . I no longer seemed tohave a mind or will of my own any more. "

The admiral risked a glance at Hanlon, who nodded agreement. 

"Do you know what he was planning, Your Majesty?"

"Planning? Planning? You mean something else beyond ruling Simonidesthrough me, or possibly supplanting me entirely?"

"I'm afraid he was, Sire. Did you know he was secretly building a greatwar fleet on another planet?"

There was an almost-imperceptible pause before the answer was barkedout. "Nonsense, sir. That I can't believe!"

Hanlon shook his head. The emperor was lying now. Why? Was hepart--perhaps head--of the plot?

His mind-probing had not yet reached an answer to those importantquestions. They would have to question him skillfully to make him thinkof the things Hanlon so desperately needed to know. 

Chapter 22

"They certainly are building a great fleet Sire, on a planet they call'Algon', " Hanlon stated crisply, and almost gave a yell of glee as, theemperor's mind fleetingly called up a picture--distorted as though ithad only been described to him--of one of the Greenies. He hurriedlycontinued punching. "I know His Highness was the guiding mind behindthat, for I was supposed to be working for him, and I've just come backfrom four months there. "

The emperor started to deny it, but Admiral Hawarden stepped closer tothe desk and fixed the monarch with a stern eye. 

"We don't wish to be discourteous or insolent, Sire, but we know thatyou do know something about this. Wait, please, " he held up his hand asthe emperor opened his mouth, so apparently about to demand an apologyfor the _lese majeste_ of calling him a liar. "We do not believe youwere doing this of your own accord, nor that you initiated theconspiracy. But we do feel positive you know something about it. And forthe peace of the Federation we must have every possible scrap ofinformation you can give us. "

The emperor became gradually less antagonistic, and as his face flushedhis eyes became pleading. 

"I . . . I . . . ", he struggled to go on, then realizing that something washolding him back, changed the subject slightly. "I hope, gentlemen, youwill forgive me. I don't know what has come over me these past years. I think you know, Hawarden, that I was always heartily in favor ofthe Federation, and did all I could to make it a force for peacethroughout the System. I know only too well how inter-planetary warwould wreck all our economies, and I do not want that. But I seem tohave . . . Changed . . . These last years . . . And I didn't want to!" It wasalmost a sob. 

The admiral, as man to man, went quickly around the desk and laid hishand comfortingly on the imperial shoulder. "We all felt that, Sire. Youwere far too great a ruler to have changed so radically. It puzzled andsaddened us all, but now I believe we can begin to see the reason--andit doesn't harm you in our estimation now that we realize you couldn'thelp it. "

The emperor raised puzzled eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"May I answer that, Sire?" Hanlon stepped forward. "We know now thatGorth Bohr wasn't human--he was an alien from . . . "

"An . . . Alien?" the emperor quavered. 

"Yes, Sire, definitely. We do not yet know where he came fromoriginally, but we do know he had considerable more--ordifferent--mental powers in some ways, than most humans. You are undersome sort of a compulsion or hypnosis that prevents your speaking out. The fact that your health failed and your body deteriorated so rapidlyproves it was against your desires. "

The emperor was startled by that, and his body shook as with a palsy. Herepeated his query, dully, "An alien?"

Hanlon and Hawarden nodded silently. After a moment Hanlon took a deepbreath and dared the question: "May we have permission to search Bohr'squarters and offices to see what evidence we can find that will perhapstell us more about his projects?"

His Majesty straightened with decision, and years seemed to drop fromhis face and figure. "You certainly may, I'll give orders at once, andyou can send in as many of your experts as you desire. I can sense theneed for speed. "

Hanlon bowed his thanks, and the admiral voiced his. "That is verygracious, Sire. The Corps thanks you. "

The emperor was gaining strength and his old shrewdness by the moment. "What about that fleet you say is being built on . . . On some otherplanet?"

Hanlon noticed that hesitation and guessed the reason. But for themoment he let it lie, and answered the question. "It is not yet aserious menace, Sire, but will be shortly if not taken into the Corps'hands. "

Admiral Hawarden explained further that the grand fleet was beingassembled, and would cope with the problem within days. 

"Good. Good. Call on us for whatever assistance we can give. "

They talked over many details for some time, then the admiral rose asthough to take his leave. 

But Hanlon wasn't yet ready. He wanted to pick up that matter he had letlie some minutes ago. He stepped up to the desk and looked straight intothe imperial eyes. 

"Sire, please think hard with all your will. I believe you know moreabout Bohr's plans, but that the knowledge was hypnotically sealed inyour sub-conscious. Bohr had that power, we know. Please try to breakthat seal. Bohr is dead now--his _compulsion_ can no longer bind you!"

The emperor seemed doubtful, but at Hanlon's continued, assuredinsistence, finally agreed to try. He concentrated for long, long, agonizing minutes. Great beads of sweat stood out on his white, strainedface, and his hands clenched into tight balls. 

Hanlon almost repented, and thought of breaking the spell and tellingthe suffering ruler it didn't matter that much, that they could get theknowledge elsewhere. But he _had_ to have those facts--and if he couldsuffer as he had done, so could others. 

But just then the emperor suddenly relaxed. His features became morecomposed and natural, and he smiled in relief. 

"It is coming now, " he wiped his face with his silk kerchief. "Bohr didboast to me that he would one day rule the galaxy. But then he told me Imust forget what he said, and I did. "

That speech seemed to release him still further from the awful tensionthat had held him for so many years. He was weary but happy. "He didn'ttell me much in detail, as nearly as I can remember. Merely that planswere being made to gain control first of this planet, then theFederation, and after that the whole Galaxy. "

"Did he say who was with him in this outrageous undertaking?" Hawardengasped, and Hanlon added, "We mean, was he alone in it, or was someother planet or system backing him?"

The emperor thought steadily for some time, then shook his head. "Idon't seem to remember, " he sighed sadly. Nor could he, after half anhour's more concentration. "I am sorry I cannot give you thatinformation, gentlemen. But you will soon, we trust, have reason tobelieve that we are once more desirous of doing everything possible forthe peace and well-being of the Federation. "

There were tears in Admiral Hawarden's eyes and he impulsively steppedforward and grasped the emperor's hand. 

"Welcome back, Sire, " he said sincerely. 

Back at Base, there were messages awaiting, that had come in while theywere gone. The admiral handed one of them to Hanlon. It was terse, butbrought a happy smile to his face. 

_"Coming immediately, with full crew. Congratulations. NEWTON. "_

 * * * * *

Others were from Grand Fleet, regarding the measures being taken for thefleet rendezvous, and the part the Simonidean sector was to play. Another was from the planetographers, giving the spatial location ofAlgon, with the note that they had finally found it on a star map, andthat a survey ship was being sent there at once. 

Hanlon punched a stud. "Stay away from Algon, " he rapped out when thescientist's face appeared on the screen. "Don't send that ship until youget permission. Just forget all about even having heard of Algon!"

The elder looked questioningly at the youthful civilian giving him suchorders. "I don't know . . . "

"Hawarden speaking, " the admiral pushed Hanlon aside and glared into thescreen. "That's an order! Forget it, as you were told!"

"Yes, sir. It's forgotten. "

Hanlon turned wearily to the admiral. "I'm minus on sleep and strengthright now, sir. Think I'll go get some rest. In the morning I'll comeback and we'll start searching Bohr's stuff. "

"Right, I could use some caulking-off myself. A couple more orders, thenI'm going home. Do you want to bunk here at Base?"

"No, guess I'd better go back to the hotel. I can't appear here toomuch, you know--might be recognized by some Terran officer. And thatbrings up a problem. What will be my apparent status before the crewsdoing the searching?"

"Civilian specialist, called in by the Corps, " Hawarden was used toquick decisions. "We often use such. I'll sign a pass for you. Betteruse a disguise and different name, hadn't you?"

Hanlon nodded. "False mustache, skin darkened, contact lenses to colormy eyes. And I'll call myself Spencer Newton. "

Hawarden looked surprised. "You pick a name fast. "

The SS man grinned back. "It's the one I was born with, "--and then theadmiral really was surprised, but asked no questions. He filled in thepass with that name. "Better come directly into this private office. "

 * * * * *

When they met in the morning Hawarden complimented Hanlon on hisdisguise, then quickly reported he had already assembled crews and onewas working at the imperial palace and the other at the ex-PrimeMinister's own residence. 

"Good, " Hanlon was well-rested and his voice was crisp. "I think I'llstart at Bohr's place. "

The two officers left Base, a staff car rushing them to the ministerialresidence. They entered and Hawarden led the way down a hall towardsBohr's private office. 

But just as they reached the door and were turning to go in, Hanlonsuddenly pushed the admiral past it, then jumped across the openinghimself. Hawarden turned in puzzlement, but Hanlon signalled quiet andled him into a small reception room adjoining. 

"There's one man in there you'll have to get rid of before I can go in, "he explained in a swift whisper. "Young junior lieutenant named DickTrowbridge. He'd recognize me even in this disguise. How'd he ever gethere to Sime?"

"Trowbridge? Oh, yes, he was sent here from Terra when we asked Primefor a code-expert. "

"Umm, that's right, Dick was a code-specialist, " Hanlon nodded. "He wasmy roommate all through cadet school, " he explained. "It would give thewhole works away if he saw me here. "

"He's our only good decoder, " Admiral Hawarden frowned. "We lost ourbest man. We'll have to use him if any code shows up. "

"I realize that, but send him away for now. If we get code we can sendit to him at Base. "

"Right, sir, I'll fake an excuse. "

Some five minutes later Hawarden returned. "All clear now, sir. "

They started out, then Hanlon stopped the admiral with a hand on hisarm. "Please, sir, " his face was flaming, his eyes miserable, but hisvoice was fairly steady. "Please don't call me 'Sir' all the time. Itmay be that my position as an SS man carries that distinction, but itmakes me nervous. A youngster like me has no business being called 'Sir'by a top brass like you who has worked nearly half a century to achievethe honor. "

Admiral Hawarden grinned suddenly, and hugged Hanlon with a fatherlygesture. "You're all right, Son, and I'm for you. From now on you'resimply 'Newton'. Anything to make you . . . Hey, 'Newton'? Are you. . . ?"

Hanlon nodded. "His son. "

The admiral's eyes glowed. "Wonderful man, your dad. One of the Corps'greatest. "

The young man swallowed hard. "I think so, too. "

They had been working nearly a quarter of an hour, sorting through thevoluminous papers in the minister's desk and files, when another Corpslieutenant came in, his hand bandaged. 

"What happened to you, Patrick?" Hawarden asked in surprise. 

"That blasted toogan bit me, and I had to get my hand dressed. "

"What toogan?"

"One that must have been Bohr's pet. It was flying all about the roomyelling and cussing us out. I was crossing to the corner of the room, there, when it screamed and bulleted over, slashing my hand when I threwit up to protect my face. "

Another of the men spoke up. "Took three of us to capture it, and Iwanted to wring its neck, but Captain Banister wouldn't let me, so westuffed it into its cage and sent it to the Zoo. "

Hanlon was intensely interested in this, but one thing puzzled him. Hesignalled Hawarden to one side, and asked in a whisper, "What's atoogan?"

"A native bird here much like your Terran parrots, but with even morebeautiful plumage, and they can talk much better than parrots. They seemto have quite a lot of intelligence. "

Hanlon was instantly alert. "Get it back here for me. "

Puzzled but unquestioning, the admiral went to the visiphone and dialedthe zoo. "Admiral Hawarden, Curator. I believe the Prime Minister'stoogan was just delivered to you. There was a mistake. Please send itback . . . Never mind, sir, what the 'why' is, just return itimmediately. "

He flipped off the switch impatiently, and looked at the young SecretServiceman with wondering eyes. A toogan? What on earth did the fellowwant with . . . This was the most amazing man he'd ever seen. But he suredid get results. 

He turned back to his men. "Anything yet?"

"Nothing but ordinary state papers so far, sir, " was the consensus. 

"Keep looking. Remember, we especially want any mention of any planetswhose names you do not recognize; anything about ship-building, or aboutmining or other planets. "

Hanlon handed Hawarden a note, and the admiral sent a couple of marinesoff on a run. Half an hour later a truck pulled up in front, and themarines carried in another desk. It was the one from that back room inthe Bacchus Tavern. 

Hanlon himself went through this, but was quickly disappointed. Therewasn't a thing he wanted in any of the drawers. He turned the deskupside down, looking for secret compartments. Finding none, he orderedthe marines to take it to pieces. At a nod from the admiral theydismantled the desk. 

But it was perfectly innocuous. 

Hanlon was just turning away, disgustedly, when a man came from the zoowith the caged toogan. At sight of the familiar room the bird perked up. 

"Hey, Boss!" it called out in a clear but whistling sort of voice, "I'mhome again. " Hanlon had no trouble understanding its words, spoken inSimonidean, of course, but was busy examining its mind. He walked overto the messenger and held out his hand. "I'll take the bird. "

The zoo attendant looked at him doubtfully. "It's a vicious thing, sir, "he said. "Be careful--it's already injured one man. They say no one butthe Prime Minister can handle it. "

"It's all right, " the admiral spoke. "Thank you for bringing it. Thatwill be all. "

Hanlon took the cage and, giving the admiral a meaning look, walked outof the room with it. 

Chapter 23

In the next room George Hanlon sank into a comfortable chair, thenopened the cage door and the toogan fluttered out and perched on thechair arm. The young man fitted his mind more closely to the bird'sbrain and began probing. Carefully he studied its every line andchannel, utterly oblivious to everything else. 

His first brief examination brought a slight sound of pleased surpriseto his lips. This bird had a real mind, far better than any he hadpreviously discovered in any animal or bird, even better than a dog's. And he could read everything in it. 

Best of all, the toogan had a pictorial type of mind--it remembered inscenes as well as words. It transmitted an almost perfect likeness ofthe being Hanlon had first known as The Leader and later as His HighnessGorth Bohr--any slight discrepancies being caused by the differencebetween a bird's ability to see and that of humans. 

Like a swiftly unreeling three-dimensional film, Hanlon saw the Ministerworking at his desk, walking about the room, receiving callers, playingwith the bird, eating--and sharing his food with it--talking to itconfidentially as he might have done to a well-trusted aide. 

For over an hour Hanlon sat there, and the bird, seemingly asleep, saton the chair arm without making a move. Finally Hanlon rose, and thetoogan flew onto his outheld arm much as a falcon might ride. In thatmanner they returned to the main office where the others were stillworking. 

They were all amazed at this peculiar situation, but only AdmiralHawarden came even close to guessing what was going on. The memory ofthat astounding performance of the pigeon made him think perhaps thissurprising young man had actually been reading the bird's mind--orsomething equally fantastic. 

Hanlon set the toogan down on a corner of the big desk, then startedwalking toward a corner closet. As he neared it the bird seemed to cometo life. It began screaming, "No need looking there! There's nothing inthere. Nobody's ever to look into that closet! Sic 'em, Pet!"

It dove straight at Hanlon, beak open and screaming in rage. But theman's hand and mind were quicker. Taking possession of the bird's mindagain, he silenced it and grabbed it by the neck, holding it gently butfirmly under his arm. 

"Open that closet and search it thoroughly, " Hawarden snapped. 

Several of the Corpsmen jumped forward, and again the toogan struggled, but Hanlon was holding it firmly by force, as well as tightening hismental control, which the powerful compulsion Bohr had implanted in thebird's mind had momentarily broken through. 

In minutes everything was out of the closet, and while some of theofficers were examining every bit of the contents, others, withpowerful, portable glo-lights, were going over the walls and shelves. There was a three-foot ladder-stool in the closet, and one of themstarted to mount it to search the ceiling. 

But the moment the man touched the stool the bird's mind gave Hanlon aclear picture of a procedure it had witnessed many times. He gasped, andcalled out to the Corpsmen, "That stool! Never mind looking at thecloset itself or that other stuff. Bring the stool out here!"

The surprised lieutenant jumped down, and carried the little ladder overto where Hanlon was standing with the bird. 

"Unscrew the left rear leg--about the middle, I believe. "

The officer up-ended the stool, and after a moment's work found out howto unscrew the leg--it had a reverse thread. In a few more instants hehad it off, and they all gasped. 

The leg was hollow, and in it were a number of tightly-rolled sheets ofvery thin, tough paper. 

The Corpsman started to unroll the papers, but at a quick signal fromHanlon, Admiral Hawarden stepped forward. 

"I'll take those, Lieutenant. I think, for the time being, at least, weneed search no further. Since most of the papers we have found here arepurely planetary matters, they're not for us to meddle with, even thoughwe have permission to do so. Back to Base--if these are not what we wantwe can start again later. "

As the men filed out, Hawarden activated the visiphone, and got theminister's office at the imperial palace. "Find anything we want there, Captain?" he asked the man who answered. 

"Not yet, sir. "

"Report back to Base, then. I think we've got it here. "

He disconnected and handed the papers to Hanlon who had, in themeantime, returned the toogan to its cage, and now sat down. He saw theyoung man's face fall at first glance at those dozens of rolled sheets. 

"What's wrong?"

"It's in code, " came the explanation reply as Hanlon swiftly examinedeach page. "In code--or in Bohr's native language, whatever that maybe. "

"Ouch! If it's that, we're sunk. Better get Trowbridge on it anyway, hadn't we?"

"Yes, " slowly, "that's all we can do now. " After some moments, "GuessI'll keep out of sight for a while. I'll go back to the hotel. You canget in touch with me there. I'm still sort of shaky from that beating Igot, and need a lot of rest. "

"Want the doctor to look you over again?"

"No, I don't think I need that now. He said to have the dressingsrenewed in two days, so I'll see him tomorrow. "

"Right, Newton. If anything comes up, I'll get in touch. "

"Oh, be sure and let me know about that freighter. You've had no wordyet, I suppose. "

"Only that it's still there, being loaded. The scouts are watching itclosely, ready to blast at first sign of departure. "

"Warn them that we want _all_ of the crew and passengers. "

The two started out, but suddenly Admiral Hawarden stopped Hanlon withhis hand on the young man's arm. "About that business with the toogan. I'm not prying if you don't want to talk, but shouldn't I warn all themen who saw it, to keep quiet?"

"Shades of Snyder, yes! I got so interested I forgot all about othersseeing me with it. Yes, absolutely, it must never be talked about. "

He again looked pleadingly at the admiral. "I . . . I'm sorry, sir . . . Butat that I know you're smart enough to have figured out most of it. Allright, highly confidential, I can do a bit of mind-reading, andespecially with animals and birds, whose minds are not as complex ashuman's. I can even control 'em to some extent. "

The admiral nodded. "I sort of figured as much, with the amazingperformance of that pigeon. Your secret is safe with me--it certainlymust not be spread around. But I don't mind saying I'm glad it's you hasthat ability, not me, " with a half-hearted laugh. 

"It is a load, " Hanlon admitted soberly, then brightened, "but it suresaved my neck when Bohr had me prisoner and was about to torture me. "

The admiral looked surprised, then shivered. "The bees! I hadn'tconnected . . . ", his voice died away, and after another brief hesitationhe left, while Hanlon slowly made his way outside, took a ground-cab, and was driven back to the hotel. 

 * * * * *

About five the next morning Hanlon was awakened by the stealthy sound ofa key in the lock of his hotel room door. His hand slid swiftly underhis pillow, and firmly grasped the blaster there. 

As he saw the door open and a figure slip inside, in one swift movementhe sat up, and switched on the bed light. "Up with those hands!" hecommanded the man who was closing the door carefully, his back stilltowards the bed. 

The hands went up, and the man slowly turned. 

"Dad!" Hanlon yelled in relief, and climbed out of bed. "How did you gethere so soon?"

His father met him halfway, and said from their embrace, "I was onEstrella when your call came. That's only a few lights from here, andthey sent a speedster. " Then he grinned. "I'm glad to see you'relearning to keep your eyes open, even in your sleep. "

Hanlon started dressing while they talked. In swift, concise sentenceshe told his father all that had occurred to him since he started hisjob. 

"Nice work, Spence, " his father applauded when he had finished, thengrinned again, "although I ought to spank you for taking such risks, after I told you to take it easy at first. I was a bit worried when youdisappeared, until Hooper reported what you were after. But about yourjob, " he continued after a moment, "we had no idea you could get somuch. We merely hoped you might find a lead or two for us to work on. But you've practically wrapped this up for us. "

"Unh-uh, " his son demurred. "It's far from finished. We've got to get toAlgon and grab those ships. And if any of them, or enough of them, arein shape to fight, that may take some doing . . . If we can do it at all. Then there's the job of finding out where Bohr came from, and how muchof a menace his planet or system or whatever it is, will be. "

"Sure, sure, I realize that, Son. But those are incidentals. You'vegiven us the 'what' and 'who' we needed to know. But I see you'redressed, and I'm hungry. Let's go eat. "

As they were breakfasting his father asked for details, and Hanlonexplained about his new mental powers, and how they had helped him. "Ican't do much with men, except to read their surface thoughts, " heexplained. "But with animals I can do more. I can follow those surfacethoughts and memories back and down into their total mind, and can takeover and control them. But it won't work with people--humans seem tohave a sort of natural block or screen I can't penetrate. "

Newton's face was a study as he shook his head. "To think my boy can dothings like that!"

"How do you suppose it happens I can, Dad?"

"You didn't get it from me, that's for sure, " his father grimacedruefully. "Perhaps through your mother, from her father. He was apeculiar duck. They used to call him psychic, for he'd get some of thecraziest hunches--for lack of a better descriptive word. He often seemedto know a lot of things when no one could figure out how he could havelearned them. Say, now that I remember back, he used to have quite a waywith animals, too, although I doubt if he had anything like yourpowers. "

"You said I'd probably develop other mental abilities, " Hanlon grinnednervously, "but I certainly never imagined anything like this. "

"Me neither, " ungrammatically. "It's weird!"

They had nearly finished eating when their waiter brought a portablevisiphone to the table. "A call for you, Mr. Hanlon, " and he plugged theset into a wall-socket. 

Hanlon flipped the switch and saw Admiral Hawarden's face smiling fromthe screen. "We got the freighter just a few minutes ago, " he reported. "One of our men daringly mingled with the crew as they were boarding, and jammed the airlock so it couldn't be closed. We arrested them all, with only two of our men injured, and five of the enemy. They'rebringing them into Base now. "

"Fine work, sir. Admiral Newton is here with me--we'll see you in youroff . . . Wait, sir . . . Dad says you'd better come here to the hotel. Room946. "

They were barely back in Hanlon's room when Admiral Hawarden knocked. Heand Newton were old friends, and greeted each other with genuine warmth. 

"That's quite a boy of yours, Newt. He's got the stuff. "

"Yeah, I'm sort of proud of him, myself. He's really done a job, especially for first assignment. "

"Have either of you any orders for me concerning the mopping up?"Hawarden asked, but looked at Hanlon. 

"Ask Dad . . . "

But his father interrupted. "It's your party, Son. Speak up. Right nowyou're not a youngster just out of school, you are the Inter-StellarCorps, " he added impressively. 

Hanlon flushed, but there was a sureness in his voice as he answered, that only the bitter experiences through which he had so recentlypassed, and which had matured him so greatly, could have brought. 

"We've got to liberate Algon and capture those new battleships asquickly as possible, of course. But at the same time we must be tryingto find out what planet or system Bohr came from, and take steps to seethey can't harm us. That means we've got to exert every effort to getevery single person who was working with or for Bohr, and especially tofind out if he had any superiors. "

"Right. The fleet should be here in another two days, and then Fergusonwill want to blast for Algon. The other matter will depend on so manythings we don't know yet. "

"Has Trowbridge cracked that code yet?"

"He reported first thing this morning that he broke it late last night. I've assigned several men to help him, and they should have ittranscribed soon. "

Hanlon turned to his father. "Your men here yet?"

"They're coming in as fast as they can get here. "

"Better examine those men from the freighter, and have your gang followup all leads. They'll have to break down Bohr's hypnosis to get anyinformation. Although, " he paused and his face grew thoughtful, "I'mwondering if anyone besides Bohr really knew all he was planning. I'mbeginning to believe he was a lone wolf. "

Admiral Hawarden nodded in agreement. "I've been forced to the samebelief. "

Something clicked in Hanlon's mind. "The emperor, " he exclaimed. "Maybewe'd better have another go at him. I'll bet his mind's a lot freer fromthat compulsion now, and perhaps he can remember more of what Bohrsealed away from his conscious memory. "

Hawarden nodded. "That's a good bet. I'll arrange it. "

Two hours later the emperor was free to receive them, and the four weresoon closeted in his study. 

"It's a strange, weird feeling, gentlemen, " he said when they hadexplained what they wanted. "It's almost like trying to read some otherperson's mind. I've felt that Bohr's influence was receding, and I'vebeen trying to see what more I could find. "

He sat silent for a moment, then said slowly, almost in a sing-songvoice as though reading from a printed page, "I knew he was buildingsome ships on Algon, but I did not know they were warships. He told methey were a new type with an entirely new propulsive principle that oneof our scientists had worked out. "

"There's always that possibility, of course, " Newton said. 

"Why did he say they were building them elsewhere than on this planet?"Hawarden asked. 

The emperor frowned in concentration, then a peculiar look came over hisfeatures. "That's strange, " he marvelled. "You would think I would havebeen sure to ask that, but I cannot find any memory of ever having doneso. "

"Algon had most of the natural resources for the building of ships, "Hanlon ruminated aloud. "There were the mines, the forests, and slavelabor to cut down expenses. It was mostly engineers, scientists andspecial technicians who were there, overseeing. "

"I cannot find in my mind the names of any others who might have been inthe conspiracy with Bohr, " the emperor answered another question. "Hebrought only one man to see me, with the request that I present him adecoration. It was the scientist who devised the new drive, he said. AProfessor Panek, I believe . . . "

"Panek?" Hanlon interrupted. "A heavy-set, ruddy-faced, red-headed man?"

"Yes, that about describes him. "

"But Panek was only one of his gunmen, " the young SS man was perplexed. "He didn't have brains enough to invent an excuse. "

"I wonder, then, what Bohr had in mind to bring such a man here likethat?" Hawarden frowned. 

"Maybe a trick to help throw His Majesty off guard, " Newton suggested. 

"Or else just a sop to Panek's vanity, to tie him closer to Bohr, "Hanlon said. "A thing like that would have tickled Panek. "

"We'll have him rounded up, then. "

"No need, Sire, " Hanlon explained. "He was one of those men who weretorturing me, and was killed by the bees. "

The emperor looked at the young man quizzically, and a knowing smileerased much of the tension from his face. "I've heard about thatincident. Wasn't it rather peculiar you were not harmed by any of thoseferocious bees?"

Hanlon's face was as bland as he could make it. "Not necessarily, Sire. I was sitting still, manacled, you remember. They were moving around andfighting the insects. "

The emperor winked, and Hanlon probed into his mind, receiving thedistinct impression of friendliness, while the surface thoughts weresaying, "I won't pry, but I'd give a lot to know what really didhappen--and how. "

"The Corps thanks Your Majesty, " Admiral Hawarden rose to leave, andNewton and Hanlon did likewise. "We'll keep you closely informed ofthings as they break, " and the three backed from the study, bowing. 

Chapter 24

Grand Fleet had been rapidly assembling in the region near Simonides, just outside visual range, and away from the passenger and freightlanes. Mobilization was now complete. 

Admiral Newton and Senior Lieutenant Hanlon had been invited to ride theSirius, High Admiral Ferguson's flagship, and were glad to availthemselves of that privilege. They wore uniforms conforming to theirrank, but were disguised so that any chance acquaintances could notrecognize them, although there were no other Terrans aboard. 

Orders were given, and in strict formation the fleet blasted for Algon. First went the great screen of scouts, fanning out in all directionsfrom a common center, the outer fringes at higher speed until a greatbowl-like formation was secured. Then all the scouts standardized theirspeed. When they reached Algon they would completely englobe the planetjust beyond detection range. 

Next came the light cruisers, in the same formation, but when theyenglobed at Algon they would go inside the globe of scouts, nearer theplanet's surface. Then the heavy cruisers and battleships would descendin three mass formations, one directly over each of the three knownshipyards. 

"If any of the ships being built there are in shape to attack--if theyhave weapons installed and crews to use them, " High Admiral Ferguson'sorders had been very explicit, "you'll have to burn them down. Otherwisewe want those ships untouched. "

George Hanlon was thrilled with the excitement of what was coming, yetknew a touch of fear. He had never been under fire, and knew only fromhearsay just what it meant to be in a ship that might be destroyed anyinstant without the least chance of anyone escaping. In space warfare, there usually just were no survivors. You won and lived--or you lost andwere blasted out of existence. 

But it wouldn't be long now--the scouts were already establishing theirglobe just outside of detection range. "No signs of being discoveredyet, " they reported. 

Then the light cruisers began slipping through the screen of scouts totake their positions. Suddenly, a number of great beams of energystabbed up toward them from below, and the screens of the cruisersflared in brilliant confiscations of flame as those mighty rays struckthem. 

"Don't you cruisers and scouts take foolish chances!" High AdmiralFerguson's voice rasped into the mike. "If those beams are too hot, getback fast! Heavy cruisers and battleships, down!"

Instantly Hanlon could feel the surge of acceleration as the great shiphe was riding plummeted planetward. In the plate he and his father werescanning, he could see the dots of blue light that identified thenearest scouts, and a moment later the greens of the light cruisers. 

Then those dots fled behind his range of vision as the heavies flashedpast them. 

The plate Hanlon was using was of limited vision, so he could not seethe battle as a whole, as High Admiral Ferguson could in hiswide-coverage screens. Only what was going on directly below and closeto either side was visible to Hanlon. Yet he could see several of thosegreat, stabbing beams reaching out toward the fleet. 

A change in color at one edge of his plate caught his eye, and he sawthe ship nearest on his right begin to glow as a heavy beam from belowworked on its screens, burrowing its way in and in, trying to blast theship out of existence. 

Great streams of radiance struck and ricocheted from its screens, whichwere swiftly mounting through the spectrum as more and more power wasthrown against them by the enemy below. 

The air in the Sirius began to grow hotter, and his father answered hisinquiring look, "They're attacking us, too, and that's heating us up. Hope our screens hold, " he grinned grimly. 

"You said it. " A shiver of fear gripped the young man, and he could feelhimself trembling. His father threw a comforting arm across hisshoulders. "First battles are always toughest, " he said evenly, andHanlon calmed instantly. 

He turned his attention to the screen again. That neighboring ship wasstruggling desperately to escape, knowing she could not stand much more. 

"What's the matter with that pilot?" Hanlon yelled. "Why don't he flipher over and beat it?"

"Seems to be held by something, " his father's anxious voice was tense. "Have those others got some sort of tractor beam?"

"Tractors?" Hanlon looked up in surprise. "I've read about them, butthought they were impossible. "

"Impossible to us because we haven't got 'em yet, " Newton said absently. "They are theoretically possible. "

Every beam from every Corps ship was piercing downward. Suddenly otherships were appearing, and the young man realized that the light cruiserswere coming down to add their might to that of the battleships andheavies. 

Four of the light cruisers maneuvered swiftly below the battleship nextto the Sirius, one below the other, and in the instant of theiralignment the big ship broke free, while the others flashed away fromthat restricting, holding tractor, or whatever it was. 

It seemed like hours that Hanlon's eyes strained, trying to see what wasgoing on. They had slowed, his spaceman's sense told him, and now hecould see they were within the atmosphere, not too high above theground. Now he could make out huge, squat mechanisms from which thosedeadly rays were pouring. 

The Guddus, with their lack of knowledge of things mechanical, had notreported these to Hanlon, else he could have warned Admiral Fergusonabout them, and the attack might possibly have been handled differently. 

Suddenly a speaker blared, "Sector Two is in our hands. No total losses. A number of the enemy scouts got away--they're far faster than anythingwe've got. "

A yell rose from every throat there in the control room. 

Sector Two, Hanlon knew, was the spaceyard where the scouts and lightcruisers were being built. "They probably hadn't armed that field asmuch as these others, " he said to his father. 

Newton nodded, then the two walked over to the High Admiral's stationand glanced into his larger bank of plates. 

Now Hanlon could see clearly, and at first glance knew that none of thenew enemy ships below them were fighting--only those ground batterieswhich encircled the shipyard. He could see that most of these were nowout of action, destroyed by the Federation ships. The others were underterrific bombardment, not only from the ships' beams, but from theirbombs and guided missiles as well. 

From the looks of the destroyed batteries, Hanlon guessed the explosivebombs had been followed by thermite to complete their destruction. 

"We lost many?" Newton asked. 

"No totals, " Ferguson's voice was gleeful, "except one light cruiser. Wemust have caught them napping. If they can't put up any more forces, it'll all be over in a couple of minutes. "

_A couple of minutes!_ Hanlon's thought was a gasp. He glanced at hischronom, and was amazed. He had been sure this battle had lasted forhours--but it was less than ten minutes. It didn't seem possible . . . Buthe quickly remembered what he had learned in school, and knowingsomething of those terrific powers unleashed there, the wonder was nowthat it had lasted that long. 

A speaker near them blared. "Admiral Houghton reporting. Sector Threetaken. Two of our cruisers blasted, and one battleship crippled. Oneenemy battleship was fighting us, and had to be destroyed. They'vereally got something, sir, that we'll want to study and get forourselves. "

Another yell of triumph came from the Corpsmen, and Hanlon felt a thrillof pride in the Service of which he was a part. 

Then a moment later Admiral Ferguson called into his mike, "Cease fire, but stand by on careful watch. _Orion_ and _Athenia_, send yourspecialists down in gigs. I'll meet you there. "

The landing successfully completed without further activity from theenemy, Ferguson, a number of designated officer-specialists, Newton andHanlon, some technicians, and a company of marines in full armor, disembarked and marched to the safest part of the ruined, still-burningspaceyard. 

Careful examination of the ships there was ordered. Theofficer-technies, who swarmed aboard the enemy ships, soon beganreporting one after another, that none of these partially-built vesselsseemed damaged beyond repair. 

"Thank heavens they built what few ground-batteries they had welloutside the field, " Ferguson said to Newton and Hanlon. "We'll get crewsin here at once, and complete these ships. "

George Hanlon, after his first quick looks about at the damage done, hadbeen sending his mind out and out, trying to get into telepathiccommunication with any of the natives, but had not had any success. Hadthey all been killed? Those here at the shipyard, probably yes, he hadto admit sadly. The terrific heat would have burned them. But what aboutthe others? Why couldn't he contact them?

"Excuse me, sir, " he addressed the High Admiral. "What about the minesand factories?"

"All under control without any trouble, outside of a few individualcasualties. Light cruisers and scouts took care of those while the mainbattle was on. "

"I'd like a small cruiser to take me to the mine where I worked, " hesaid, and one was ordered to come down and place itself on specialassignment at his disposal. 

"Want to come with me, Dad?" he asked. 

The two admirals exchanged glances, and Ferguson nodded. "Go ahead ifyou want to. We won't need you here for now. "

In the airlock of the cruiser Hanlon removed the disguising makeup, andit was as his Algonian-known self, dressed in civvies he had brought forthat purpose, that he descended at the familiar little spaceport. 

His father was intensely interested in that fantastic, seemingly-alivejungle through which they walked to the mine clearing. "I've never seenanything like this, " he commented in amazement. "Are these trees andbushes conscious, too?"

"Very slightly, " his son told him. "The Guddus call them their 'littlecousins, ' and I believe can communicate to some extent, but I nevercould. "

As they broke from the jungle's fringe, they saw a double-squad ofmarines on guard. The two were allowed through the lines, and enteredthe office. Behind his desk, his face dead white from suspense, satPeter Philander, and about the room sprawled the engineers, guards andother workers. 

"Hi, Mr. Philander!" Hanlon called cheerfully, and at sound of thatremembered voice, the superintendent's head, as well as those of all theothers, snapped up. 

"You!" There was incredulity in the super's voice and manner. 

"Yep, it's me, " Hanlon grinned. "I'm glad nothing happened to any ofyou. "

"_Hmmpff!_" Philander snorted defeatedly. "What's the difference betweenbeing killed cleanly in a fight, as against a lifetime in prison, or afiring squad?"

"You'll get neither one, " Hanlon said quietly, remembering the power he, as a Secret Service operative, carried. "There'll be a trial, of course, but I know that you, at least, are all okay. "

"He's boss, ain't he?" one of the guards growled truculently. "Whyshould he get off free iffen th' rest of us don't?"

"None of you will be harmed because of your part in the plot HisHighness Gorth Bohr was scheming. That is broken, and we know you wereall just his tools. All any of you will be tried for are your actions asregards the Greenies. If brutality against them is proven, you'll beproperly punished for that alone. "

He turned to Philander. "Are the natives all right?"

The man looked up hopelessly, unable to believe Hanlon's statement abouthimself. "How do I know?" his voice was dispirited. "When the Corpscaptured us, they dragged us from wherever we were working, and as faras I know left the Greenies untended. They've probably all run back tothe woods. "

Hanlon looked at his father. "I'm going out to look. I have afeeling . . . " and he walked out without saying more. Nor was he greatlysurprised to see the natives all sitting or standing quietly in theircompounds, some feeding from the fertilizer Hanlon was glad to see wasstill being fed them, others merely resting, waiting. 

The gates, of course, were unlocked and wide open, so Hanlon walkedquickly back to the hut his crew occupied and stepped inside thedoorway. While waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness he saw afigure launching itself at him. But as he quickly stepped back outside, in case it was an attack, he saw that it was Geck. 

"You came back, you came back!" the native was babbling telepathicallyin an excess of joy. "When the new humans came and took the old humansprisoners, me said it was your work. Me knew you would come. Me tellother Guddu to wait for you here. "

"What about those near the places where the ships were being built?"Hanlon's mind asked anxiously. "I tried to get into contact with thembut couldn't. "

"Many of they were killed, yet most ran to forests when great fires thatdestroy were started, " was the sad response. 

Hanlon was silent a moment, then telepathed again. "There is no need foryou all to stay here any longer. Tell all your people to go back totheir forests, for they are all free. "

Geck turned to the other natives who were crowding close, and Hanloncould see him talking swiftly with that peculiar-looking littletriangular-shaped mouth. Soon his mind was suffused with a tremendouswave of joy and ecstasy, and they began dashing out. Hanlon could seethem talking to the natives in all the huts, and in moments all thenatives except Geck were streaming happily toward the nearby forests. 

Hanlon turned to Geck. "I'd like to have you stay with me or where I canreach you for a while. As soon as we can get straightened around, we'llmake arrangements to do anything we can for you. "

"Me stay with friend An-yon, " Geck said simply, and Hanlon was glad andproud of that friendship with this strange alien. 

They walked back to the mine office, and there Hanlon told his fatherabout what he had done with the natives. 

Admiral Newton was intensely interested, and frankly studied thestrange, weird Geck. It was his first sight of these "vegetable"creatures. "Animated trees, " Hanlon had first called them, although nowthey were so familiar to him, and he knew them so well that he thoughtof them, naturally and without question, as "people. "

The young Secret Serviceman explained to the elder about thefrequency-transformer he had built--but dismantled before leaving Algon. He suggested that specialists be sent here to see what could be doneabout teaching the natives any of the things they might want to know. 

"But don't let them try to force the Guddus into a mechanicalcivilization, " he pleaded. "Let 'em grow in their own way, and make whatprogress they can in whatever way comes natural to them. "

"Of course, " his father agreed quickly. "That's the way we always workwith such primitives. We tell them and show them what we have, but onlygive them what they specifically ask for, whether we think it is whatthey 'ought to have' or not. Don't worry, your friends will be in goodhands. But, " there was a peculiar light in his eyes, "I sure would liketo watch an autopsy on one of them. A vegetable brain . . . "

"Yes, it would be interesting, " Hanlon admitted, "but I'm glad you treatthem that way. " He turned back to Geck and explained, telepathically, asbest he could. 

"You stay here with we, " the Guddu asked hopefully. 

"I'm sorry, but I have other work to do, " and then, as he saw how theother lost heart. Hanlon hastened to add, "I have to go help otherenslaved peoples on other worlds. "

"Then us not try to keep you. But us hope you come to see we many time. "

"I'll do that, Geck my friend, every chance I get. "

Chapter 25

"We've got a problem here, " Admiral Newton said as they followed themarines who were taking the mine operatives to the cruiser to be takenback to Simonides for their trials. 

"I know it, " Hanlon said thoughtfully. "The Guddus are too high in thescale for the planet to be colonized, and too low at present to beadmitted to the Federation as true members. Yet they have immense wealthand resources the Federation can use, and something will have to be doneto protect them from thieves and others who might again try to enslavethem. "

"That will never be allowed again. We'll have to make some sort of atreaty with them, probably establish a small base here, and perhaps makesome arrangements to mine their ores--if we have anything we can givethem in repayment. I imagine you'd better hold yourself in readiness tohead the commission that comes to handle that treaty. "

"Gee, thanks for that, Dad. They're such swell people when you get toknow them. Ordinarily they live like 'children of nature, ' in theforests, without need of homes or tools or anything. They feed from theelements in the soil, so there's no food problem. We did give themnitrates here, but that was because they had exhausted the elements inthe dirt floors of their prison huts. In the woods that won't be needed. Oh, well, when we get technies here, with transformers, we can find outwhat to do with them. "

"I'm going back to the fleet now, " the elder SS man said. "I suppose youwant to go back to Simonides to handle the details of the trials ofthese men. Incidentally, what about this . . . Philander, did you say hisname was? Why don't you think he'll need punishment?"

Hanlon explained rapidly, finishing, "So you see, with some psychiatrictreatments, I'm sure that inferiority can be cleaned up and then he'llbe a real asset to us or whoever hires him. " A sudden gleam came intohis eyes. "Say, if we make that treaty with the Guddus, he'd be just theman to take charge here, under Corps direction. "

"Well, run along and see to it, then. And Spence, did I remember to tellyou how proud I am of you?"

Hanlon hugged his father. "Thanks, Dad. I hope you always will be. Isuppose the cruiser Commander will let me ride with him?"

Newton smiled fondly. "Not 'let you, ' Son. You merely tell him you'regoing to go along. Admiral Ferguson assigned that ship to you on specialduty. "

Hanlon's smile was embarrassed. "I still think I'm too much of a kid forso much responsibility. "

"Quit looking for sympathy. " It was an affectionate growl. 

"Okay, then. Safe flights, Dad--see you on Sime soon. "

"Yes, I'll probably be there a day or so after you. Safe flights. "

 * * * * *

Once the cruiser was in space, and the pressure of acceleration abated, Hanlon sent word to the guards to bring Philander to his cabin. Whenthey had done so, he excused them, saying he would be responsible forthe safety of their prisoner. 

"Sit down, sir, " Hanlon said kindly to the wondering man. 

"What's this all about, Hanlon?" Philander puzzled. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I was assigned to find out what it was centering on Simonides thatseemed inimical to the peace of the Federation. The trail led me toAlgon. "

"Where you used me to further your schemes, eh?" the tone was bitter. 

"Please, Mr. Philander, don't misjudge me until you know all about it. First, let me ask you, did you know who 'His Highness' really was?"

The mining engineer shrugged. "You probably know already, so why ask me?Prime Minister of Simonides, of course . . . But you said 'was'?"

"He's dead now. Did you also know he wasn't human--that he was an alienfrom some . . . "

"Not human? You're crazy. He was as human as any of us. "

"When we get back I'll show you a full-length X-ray of him if you wish. He was planning the conquest of our entire Federation and Galaxy. TheCorps experts are still working to find out just what the details of hisscheme were, but that much we do know. Did you know about all thewarships he was building on Algon?"

"Ships? On Algon?" The surprises were coming too fast for Philander toadjust to them. 

"Yes. Did you think your mine was all there was there? We know of ninemines of one kind or another, a number of factories, smelters, and threegreat shipyards. Incidentally, everything is now in the hands of theCorps. "

Philander shook his head in stupefaction. "I'm not calling you a liar, sir, but it's hard to believe you. I knew there were several mines, butnot that many, nor about the rest. "

"It's all true enough. And I'm still 'George' to you, my good friend, not 'sir'. "

That was a little too much for the older man. "What a mess I've made ofmy life, " he groaned. 

Hanlon was intensely sorry and sympathetic, but in a way he was glad tosee this present mood. It would undoubtedly make easier what he wantedto do. He went over, sat on the arm of Philander's chair and put his armabout the other's shoulder. He gently touched that terrible scar. "Whenand how did you get this?"

Philander shrank away from him, but the story raced across the surfaceof his mind, and Hanlon read it. 

When he (Philander) was about eight, a gang of boys were playing aboutan old, tumbled-down building, and somehow knocked out the prop holdingup its remains. Three others were hurt, Philander got that cut-scar, andhis brother was killed. 

"And you've felt all these years you were to blame for his death!"Hanlon exclaimed. "When we get back I'm going to have the best plasticsurgeon remove that scar, so it will no longer be a constant reminder. Then a top psychiatrist will give you some therapy, and help you getyour mind at rest. After that you'll be ready to take your place insociety as a very valuable citizen. "

"You forget what's going to happen to me because of my part in thisplot, " Philander was still bitter and unconvinced. 

"Nothing's going to happen to you--you weren't guilty of anything excepthaving been hypnotized by an alien supermentality, " Hanlon saidconvincingly. "I'll see to that, myself. "

Philander looked up in surprise. "You mean you . . . A young fellow likeyou . . . Can tell the . . . "

"Not exactly, " Hanlon interrupted with a grin. "But this was myassignment, and my recommendations will govern. The main thing is, willyou consent to the plan I've suggested?"

Philander sat for long, thoughtful minutes, then looked up piteously. "If you only can do it!"

 * * * * *

When the cruiser reached Simonides and Hanlon had seen the other mineworkers safely in the Corps prison at Base, and Philander installed in aroom next to his at the hotel, he called Admiral Hawarden. 

"Congratulations on the mop-up, which I understand was one hundred pointoh oh oh percent, " the officer said. 

"Yes, the other end's under control. How about Bohr's notes?"

"They finished last night. We've got a complete list of all theunderlings who knew any of the main parts of the conspiracy, and the SSagents have jugged them all. "

"Good work. "

"You did a grand job, sir. Again, my congratulations. "

"Thanks, Admiral Hawarden. I've got to get busy now, on my report to theCouncil. "

"Call on me for any help I can give. I'd offer you my confidentialsecretary to dictate them to, if it wasn't so secret. "

"Thanks. She would be a big help, but we'd better not. "

"How'd you know it was a 'she'?"

"Even a pigeon can admire a shapely shape, " Hanlon quipped as hedisconnected. 

The young SS man was just finishing his report the next day when AdmiralNewton walked into his hotel room. 

"Gosh, Dad, am I _especially_ glad to see you this time!" his sonenthused. "I need you to check this report. "

"Let's see what you've got. " Newton settled down in a big chair to studythe report, while Hanlon fidgetted about the room, anxiously. 

"A very clear, concise and complete report, Spence, " Newton applaudedwhen he finished reading. 

"Where do I send it, and to whom?"

His father looked at him quizzically. "Have you forgotten about thespecial mail box for SS men?"

The younger man looked astounded. "You mean, even a thing like thismerely goes in there?"

Newton nodded. "However, in this case, since I would have been the oneto pick it up, I'll take it to Base and transmit it to the Council. Incidentally, future reports should be marked on the envelope 'Report toFederated Council'. "

A couple of hours later Admiral Hawarden called Hanlon at the hotel, where he had just finished making arrangements for Philander's operationand treatments. 

"Your father and I want you to come to Base at once, sir. "

When he arrived in Hawarden's private office, the admiral handed him apair of silver bars. "These are yours now, Captain Hanlon. "

The young man looked up in surprise. 

"You were told promotions were swift in the SS--for those who produce, "his father chuckled. "The Council was very gratified with your report, and ordered the promotion. "

Hanlon looked at the two insignia, and his fingers stroked them almosttenderly. 

"You miss the uniform, don't you, Spence?" sympathetically. 

Hanlon gulped and nodded silently, very close to tears. 

"Are you sorry you made the choice you did--to give all that up?"

A long, poignant moment of silence, then Hanlon threw back his head in agesture of pride. "No, Dad. I'm honestly glad I did it. To be able tofree those fine Guddus from slavery, and to save the Federation fromthat horrible plot--it was well worth the little suffering it'll costme. But, " and his smile was pathetic, "I do miss the uniform. I was soproud, wearing it. "

A moment, then Hawarden spoke. "Here are the transcripts of the Bohrnotes, " and soon the two SS men were deep in the study of them. Whenthey had finished some time later, they agreed it was a verycomprehensive plan. 

"But did you notice, " Hanlon's eyes were cloudy, "he doesn't say a thinganywhere about the part his planet or system were to play in theconquest?"

"Yes, I'd noticed that. " It was a duet from the two others, and Newtonadded, "For all there is here, you'd almost feel sure he was playing alone hand. "

"If that's true, " Hawarden said thankfully, "none of the other men we'vepicked up matter--we might as well let them go. "

"I'd say so, " Newton agreed, "if we can prove Bohr was in this forhimself, and was controlling them. "

"From what I saw of him, " Hanlon said seriously after a long moment ofthought, "I'd say he was capable of trying it. He certainly had 'thewill to power. ' And he was no dummy--he had a really powerful mind. Buthe was cold beneath that suave, soft-seeming exterior. He was utterlywithout compassion, mercy, or any feeling of justice. He wouldn't carewho or what was damaged as long as he could get what he wanted. I doubtif there was anyone he could really call a friend, or to whom he couldtalk in full confidence. "

"Except possibly that bird you told . . . " his father began, absently, when Hanlon interrupted with a whoop. 

"Hey, that's it!" He jumped up and ran to the visiphone, and dialed thezoo. "Bring that toogan of Bohr's back to Base!"

"What, again?" the indignant curator asked. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but this is probably the last time we'll need it. Please get it here immediately. "

"What's the excitement?" Newton asked curiously. 

"Your remark reminded me of something I noticed only dimly in its mind, and didn't pursue at the time. "

While they were waiting for the bird, Hanlon asked, "What about the newships? Have the experts got 'em figured out yet?"

"Not entirely. The hulls are about the same as the Snyder ships, onlylarger. But that new power system is so radically different they'regoing rapidly nuts trying to understand it. And they do havetractor-beams. "

No sooner had the messenger left after delivering the toogan than Hanlonhad it out of the cage, and perched on the arm of his chair. Then fornearly an hour he sat there, deaf, dumb and blind to all else while heexplored every nook and cranny of that avian mind. 

"Got it!" he yelled at last, and the bird, freed from control, spranginto the air and flew wildly about, seeking escape. 

"What did you learn?" the admirals were as excited as he. 

"We've nothing to fear. Bohr was entirely on his own. The people of hisplanetary system--Canopus--are so far advanced they live on a completelyco-operative basis, every one instinctively working for the common goodof all. Bohr was an atavism--they caught him trying to 'take over'there, and banished him. He came here, for his restless mind and savageurge to dominate others would not let him rest until he was absoluteruler of some world or system--the bigger the better from hisviewpoint. "

"And you got all that from a bird?" incredulously. 

"Yes. You were right when you said Bohr didn't have a friend except thetoogan. I think that's why he sort of liked me--perhaps he felt I wouldbe one. All men have the need to talk to someone, some times, so Bohrchose this toogan, who is really quite intelligent, and who could talkback with him. The bird doesn't 'remember' it all, of course, but it'sall engraved on his brain. "

"That means, then, " Newton said thankfully, "that we won't have to worryabout a war with another system or galaxy. "

"Yes, and that's a real help, " Hawarden added. "Even one man, or entity, like Bohr, could have given us a bad enough time, and perhaps evenwrecked the Federation. "

"Well, I guess that winds it up except for a lot of detail work, " Newtonrose. "I've got to get back to my own job on Estrella. Hawarden, callthe port and have them ready my ship, please. And it's been good seeingyou again. Thanks for everything. "

"Safe flights, Newton, " and the admiral started calling the spaceport. 

"You'll get your orders in a day or two about going back to Algon withthe commission, " Newton told Hanlon. "Might as well stay here untilthen. "

After affectionate farewells he started out, then stopped, bursting intoa laugh. 

"What's the gag, Dad?"

"It just came to me that this was once where the son told the father allabout 'the birds and the bees'. "

"Well, " Hanlon quipped, but kept his face straight. "I figured you wereold enough now to know. "

The End