Man of Many Minds

  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 e
ven 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.