Man of Many Minds

  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.