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!"