Man of Many Minds/Chapter 23
In the next room George Hanlon sank into a comfortable chair, then opened the cage door and the toogan fluttered out and perched on the chair arm. The young man fitted his mind more closely to the bird's brain and began probing. Carefully he studied its every line and channel, utterly oblivious to everything else.
His first brief examination brought a slight sound of pleased surprise to his lips. This bird had a real mind, far better than any he had previously 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 in scenes as well as words. It transmitted an almost perfect likeness of the being Hanlon had first known as The Leader and later as His Highness Gorth Bohr—any slight discrepancies being caused by the difference between a bird's ability to see and that of humans.
Like a swiftly unreeling three-dimensional film, Hanlon saw the Minister working at his desk, walking about the room, receiving callers, playing with the bird, eating—and sharing his food with it—talking to it confidentially as he might have done to a well-trusted aide.
For over an hour Hanlon sat there, and the bird, seemingly asleep, sat on the chair arm without making a move. Finally Hanlon rose, and the toogan flew onto his outheld arm much as a falcon might ride. In that manner they returned to the main office where the others were still working.
They were all amazed at this peculiar situation, but only Admiral Hawarden came even close to guessing what was going on. The memory of that astounding performance of the pigeon made him think perhaps this surprising young man had actually been reading the bird's mind—or something equally fantastic.
Hanlon set the toogan down on a corner of the big desk, then started walking toward a corner closet. As he neared it the bird seemed to come to life. It began screaming, “No need looking there! There's nothing in there. Nobody's ever to look into that closet! Sic 'em, Pet!”
It dove straight at Hanlon, beak open and screaming in rage. But the man's hand and mind were quicker. Taking possession of the bird's mind again, he silenced it and grabbed it by the neck, holding it gently but firmly 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 his mental control, which the powerful compulsion Bohr had implanted in the bird's mind had momentarily broken through.
In minutes everything was out of the closet, and while some of the officers were examining every bit of the contents, others, with powerful, portable glo-lights, were going over the walls and shelves. There was a three-foot ladder-stool in the closet, and one of them started to mount it to search the ceiling.
But the moment the man touched the stool the bird's mind gave Hanlon a clear picture of a procedure it had witnessed many times. He gasped, and called out to the Corpsmen, “That stool! Never mind looking at the closet itself or that other stuff. Bring the stool out here!”
The surprised lieutenant jumped down, and carried the little ladder over to 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 how to unscrew the leg—it had a reverse thread. In a few more instants he had it off, and they all gasped.
The leg was hollow, and in it were a number of tightly-rolled sheets of very thin, tough paper.
The Corpsman started to unroll the papers, but at a quick signal from Hanlon, Admiral Hawarden stepped forward.
“I'll take those, Lieutenant. I think, for the time being, at least, we need search no further. Since most of the papers we have found here are purely planetary matters, they're not for us to meddle with, even though we have permission to do so. Back to Base—if these are not what we want we can start again later.”
As the men filed out, Hawarden activated the visiphone, and got the minister'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 the meantime, returned the toogan to its cage, and now sat down. He saw the young 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 examined each page. “In code—or in Bohr's native language, whatever that may be.”
“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, “Guess I'll keep out of sight for a while. I'll go back to the hotel. You can get in touch with me there. I'm still sort of shaky from that beating I got, 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 dressings renewed 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 word yet, I suppose.”
“Only that it's still there, being loaded. The scouts are watching it closely, 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 with his 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 the men who saw it, to keep quiet?”
“Shades of Snyder, yes! I got so interested I forgot all about others seeing me with it. Yes, absolutely, it must never be talked about.”
He again looked pleadingly at the admiral. “I … I'm sorry, sir … but at that I know you're smart enough to have figured out most of it. All right, highly confidential, I can do a bit of mind-reading, and especially with animals and birds, whose minds are not as complex as human's. I can even control 'em to some extent.”
The admiral nodded. “I sort of figured as much, with the amazing performance of that pigeon. Your secret is safe with me—it certainly must not be spread around. But I don't mind saying I'm glad it's you has that ability, not me,” with a half-hearted laugh.
“It is a load,” Hanlon admitted soberly, then brightened, “but it sure saved my neck when Bohr had me prisoner and was about to torture me.”
The admiral looked surprised, then shivered. “The bees! I hadn't connected …”, his voice died away, and after another brief hesitation he 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 of a key in the lock of his hotel room door. His hand slid swiftly under his pillow, and firmly grasped the blaster there.
As he saw the door open and a figure slip inside, in one swift movement he sat up, and switched on the bed light. “Up with those hands!” he commanded the man who was closing the door carefully, his back still towards the bed.
The hands went up, and the man slowly turned.
“Dad!” Hanlon yelled in relief, and climbed out of bed. “How did you get here so soon?”
His father met him halfway, and said from their embrace, “I was on Estrella when your call came. That's only a few lights from here, and they sent a speedster.” Then he grinned. “I'm glad to see you're learning to keep your eyes open, even in your sleep.”
Hanlon started dressing while they talked. In swift, concise sentences he told his father all that had occurred to him since he started his job.
“Nice work, Spence,” his father applauded when he had finished, then grinned 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 you disappeared, until Hooper reported what you were after. But about your job,” he continued after a moment, “we had no idea you could get so much. 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 to Algon and grab those ships. And if any of them, or enough of them, are in 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 much of a menace his planet or system or whatever it is, will be.”
“Sure, sure, I realize that, Son. But those are incidentals. You've given us the ‘what’ and ‘who’ we needed to know. But I see you're dressed, and I'm hungry. Let's go eat.”
As they were breakfasting his father asked for details, and Hanlon explained about his new mental powers, and how they had helped him. “I can't do much with men, except to read their surface thoughts,” he explained. “But with animals I can do more. I can follow those surface thoughts and memories back and down into their total mind, and can take over and control them. But it won't work with people—humans seem to have 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 do things like that!”
“How do you suppose it happens I can, Dad?”
“You didn't get it from me, that's for sure,” his father grimaced ruefully. “Perhaps through your mother, from her father. He was a peculiar duck. They used to call him psychic, for he'd get some of the craziest hunches—for lack of a better descriptive word. He often seemed to know a lot of things when no one could figure out how he could have learned them. Say, now that I remember back, he used to have quite a way with animals, too, although I doubt if he had anything like your powers.”
“You said I'd probably develop other mental abilities,” Hanlon grinned nervously, “but I certainly never imagined anything like this.”
“Me neither,” ungrammatically. “It's weird!”
They had nearly finished eating when their waiter brought a portable visiphone to the table. “A call for you, Mr. Hanlon,” and he plugged the set into a wall-socket.
Hanlon flipped the switch and saw Admiral Hawarden's face smiling from the 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're bringing them into Base now.”
“Fine work, sir. Admiral Newton is here with me—we'll see you in your off … wait, sir … Dad says you'd better come here to the hotel. Room 946.”
They were barely back in Hanlon's room when Admiral Hawarden knocked. He and 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 now you're not a youngster just out of school, you are the Inter-Stellar Corps,” 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 recently passed, and which had matured him so greatly, could have brought.
“We've got to liberate Algon and capture those new battleships as quickly as possible, of course. But at the same time we must be trying to find out what planet or system Bohr came from, and take steps to see they can't harm us. That means we've got to exert every effort to get every single person who was working with or for Bohr, and especially to find out if he had any superiors.”
“Right. The fleet should be here in another two days, and then Ferguson will want to blast for Algon. The other matter will depend on so many things 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 it transcribed 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 follow up all leads. They'll have to break down Bohr's hypnosis to get any information. Although,” he paused and his face grew thoughtful, “I'm wondering if anyone besides Bohr really knew all he was planning. I'm beginning to believe he was a lone wolf.”
Admiral Hawarden nodded in agreement. “I've been forced to the same belief.”
Something clicked in Hanlon's mind. “The emperor,” he exclaimed. “Maybe we'd better have another go at him. I'll bet his mind's a lot freer from that compulsion now, and perhaps he can remember more of what Bohr sealed 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 were soon closeted in his study.
“It's a strange, weird feeling, gentlemen,” he said when they had explained what they wanted. “It's almost like trying to read some other person's mind. I've felt that Bohr's influence was receding, and I've been trying to see what more I could find.”
He sat silent for a moment, then said slowly, almost in a sing-song voice as though reading from a printed page, “I knew he was building some ships on Algon, but I did not know they were warships. He told me they were a new type with an entirely new propulsive principle that one of 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 his features. “That's strange,” he marvelled. “You would think I would have been sure to ask that, but I cannot find any memory of ever having done so.”
“Algon had most of the natural resources for the building of ships,” Hanlon ruminated aloud. “There were the mines, the forests, and slave labor to cut down expenses. It was mostly engineers, scientists and special technicians who were there, overseeing.”
“I cannot find in my mind the names of any others who might have been in the conspiracy with Bohr,” the emperor answered another question. “He brought only one man to see me, with the request that I present him a decoration. It was the scientist who devised the new drive, he said. A Professor 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 like that?” 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 were torturing me, and was killed by the bees.”
The emperor looked at the young man quizzically, and a knowing smile erased much of the tension from his face. “I've heard about that incident. Wasn't it rather peculiar you were not harmed by any of those ferocious 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 and fighting the insects.”
The emperor winked, and Hanlon probed into his mind, receiving the distinct impression of friendliness, while the surface thoughts were saying, “I won't pry, but I'd give a lot to know what really did happen—and how.”
“The Corps thanks Your Majesty,” Admiral Hawarden rose to leave, and Newton and Hanlon did likewise. “We'll keep you closely informed of things as they break,” and the three backed from the study, bowing.