Alien Minds

Fantasy Press, Inc. Reading, Pennsylvania

Copyright 1955 by E. Everett Evans

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher.

[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

First Edition

Printed in U. S. A.

by E. Everett Evans Man of Many Minds The Planet Mappers Alien Minds

For Mother to whom I owe so much

Alien Minds

Chapter 1

"Were you looking for a roch, nyer?" An oily voice spoke up just by the elbow of George Hanlon. "I have some excellent ones here, sir."

"Yes, nyer, I want several, if I can find ones to suit me," the young man replied. Nor could anyone, glancing at him, know he was not a native of this planet, Szstruyyah, which the Inter-Stellar Corpsmen, in self-defense, called "Estrella." For the cosmetic-specialist who handled the secret servicemen's disguises had done a marvelous job in transforming the blond young Corpsman into an Estrellan native.

Hanlon continued looking into the outside cages containing these tailless roches, the Estrellan equivalent of wild dogs. "I want eight, all as near the same size, coloring and age as possible."

"Eight, did you say?" the merchant looked at him in astonishment. Hanlon, carefully reading the surface of the man's mind, sensed the conflict there between the ethics his religion and philosophy had taught him, his natural love of haggling, and a desire to make as much profit as possible. But he could not sense the slightest suspicion that the man confronting him was not another Estrellan.

This was a great relief to Hanlon, for he was still afraid he might be recognized as a stranger and an alien. In his disguise he was still humanoid in shape, and still his five feet eleven inches in height. But in addition to the ragged beard and longish hair, he had undergone outward structural differences that made him seem almost totally unhuman.

"That's right. Eight. I want them to be about two years old, in good health. Can you supply them?"

"I can if you can pay for them," the native looked somewhat questioningly at Hanlon's cheap clothing.

The young secret serviceman smiled, and jingled coins in his pocket. "I can pay."

"Then come with me, nyer, and we will find the ones you want."

Hanlon followed him inside the peculiar little open-faced stall that was one of the hundreds surrounding the great market square of this city of Stearra, largest on the West Continent of Estrella. His nose wrinkled against the stench of the uncleaned kennels.

The roches, seeing a stranger and, perhaps, being somewhat upset by his strange, alien effluvia, set up the peculiar, frenzied yelping that was their customary sound. To Hanlon, it was reminiscent of the wail of earthly coyotes.

The young Corpsman was on a very hair-trigger of caution and tenseness. Despite his splendid disguise, he had plodded through the crowd of the market place with a great deal of trepidation.

He had seemingly come through all right so far, and he began to relax a bit, yet was still somewhat fearful that he might give himself away by some difference of action, or speech, or by breaking one of their customs or taboos about which he knew all too little, despite his briefing and study before coming here.

"Have you decided which ones you want, nyer?" the proprietor asked, waving his hand toward the various cages, hardly able to believe he was to make such a large sale.

Hanlon said nothing, continuing to scan closely the roches, for his thoughts were still very much on this, his first prolonged venture into the streets and among the crowds of this strange new world to which he had been assigned on his second problem.

His mind was constantly contacting others, for George Spencer Newton Hanlon was the only member of the secret service who was at all able to read minds. But he could read only their surface thoughts--and these Estrellans had such peculiar mental processes, so different from those of the humans with whom he was familiar, that they were almost non-understandable.

So he was still a bit hesitant to start the bickering he knew he must engage in to stay in character. To delay a bit further he continued examining the animals in the cages, not only with his eyes but mentally scanning the brain of each, that he might be sure of finding those in perfect health, with minds he could most easily control.

"Though how I can expect to find healthy ones in a filthy dump like this, I don't know," he thought. But he finally did.

While he was doing this, however, he was reminded of the time he had discovered this ability to "read" animal minds, and how his subsequent studies had enabled him to control their minds and bodily actions with amazing skill. It was this ability that had led him to this market place on his unusual quest.

"I'll take that one, and that, and that," he said at last, pointing out, one after another, the eight animals he wanted.

"Yes, nyer, yes," the puzzled but delighted proprietor said, as he transferred the indicated animals to a single, large cage. "That will cost you ..." he eyed Hanlon carefully to see if he could get away with an exorbitant price. Something seemed to tell him the stranger did not know just how much roches customarily sold for, and he decided to raise his asking price considerably. "... they will be seven silver pentas each, nyer, and believe me, you are getting a fine price. I usually get ten each,"--he was lucky to get two, Hanlon read in his mind--"but since this is such a large sale I can afford to make you a bargain."

Hanlon grinned to himself as he computed quickly. Five iron pentas, he knew, made one copper penta, five coppers one tin penta, five of these one silver penta, and five silvers a gold one. This made the silver piece worth about one-half a Federation credit. The price seemed ridiculously low, even with this big mark-up. Hanlon would willingly have paid it, but he had learned from the briefing tapes, and again now from his reading of this merchant's mind, that they loved to haggle over their sales--made a sort of game of it--so he turned away, registering disgust.

"A fool you think me, perhaps," he said witheringly. "Seven silver pentas, indeed. One would be a great price for such ill-fed, scrawny, pitiable animals as those."

The merchant raised his hands and voice in simulated rage--which did not prevent him from running around to face Hanlon's retreating figure, and bar his way. "'Robber', he calls me, then tries to rob me in turn. Six?" he suggested hopefully.

Hanlon was now enjoying the game, and threw himself into it with vigor. "I call on Zappa to witness that you are, indeed, the worst thief unhung," he also spoke loudly, angrily, largely for the benefit of the crowd of natives that was swiftly gathering to watch and listen to this sport. "Look, that one is crooked of leg, this one's hair is ready to fall out, that one is fifteen years old if a day. I'll give you two."

Yet he knew all the animals were in perfect health, and all about two years old. He had carefully selected only such.

"I ask anyone here," the seller wailed as he waved toward the crowd that was watching and listening with huge enjoyment, "I ask anyone here who knows roches to examine these you have chosen. They are all exceptional, all perfect. The best in my shop. Five and a half."

Hanlon turned away again. "I'll go find an _honest_ dealer," he started to push through the crowd, but the merchant hurried after him and grasped his smock. "Wait, nyer, wait. It breaks my heart to do this. I'll lose a month's profit, but I'll sell them to you for five pentas each. To my best friend I wouldn't give a better price."

"That shows why you have no friends. Three even, take it or leave it," Hanlon was still pretending indifference.

"I'm ruined; I'll be forced out of business," the dealer screamed. "They cost me more than that. Oh, why did I rise this morning. Give me four?"

Hanlon grinned and dug out a handful of the pentagonal-shaped gold and silver pieces. He counted into the merchant's quivering but dirty hands the agreed-upon thirty-two pentas.

The native looked at them, wordlessly, but his face was a battleground of mixed emotions. Finally he reluctantly counted out half of them into his other hand, and held them out to Hanlon. "No, nyer, I cannot over-charge you. Two is the price."

"You're an honest man after all, and I apologize," Hanlon said, smiling, as he pushed back the outstretched hand. "Those I chose are fine animals, perfect, and the best in your shop. So keep the money. Send them to my room this midday," he commanded. "It's on the street of the Seven Moons, at the corner of the street of the Limping Caval--the house painted pink in front. Second floor to the rear. My name--Gor Anlo--is on the door."

He had taken that name on this planet since it most nearly corresponded to his own from among the common Estrellan names.

The roch-dealer, well pleased with the outcome, bobbed obsequiously. "It shall be done as you say, nyer, and I shall include feeding and drinking dishes. What about food for them?"

"That's right, they'll need dishes, and thank you. Let's see your meat." But after examining the poor quality food the merchant displayed, he would not buy.

"I'll get something elsewhere, if this is the best you have," Hanlon told the man with a disarming smile. "Such fine roches deserve the best."

"Yes, my food is poor," the dealer moved his hand deprecatingly. "I'm glad the roches are to have such a considerate master."

And Hanlon could read in his mind that the merchant actually was pleased. The S S man felt that he had passed this first public test with high grades.

In one of the better-class food stalls Hanlon found some good, clean meat, and the other foods such animals ate. After the customary game of haggling, he ordered a two days' supply to be delivered at once, and the order duplicated every other day until further notice.

Then he hunted up a suit-maker. Here it took a lot of persuasion, and the showing of his money, before the tailor would even believe that Hanlon really meant what he said when he tried to order nine uniforms, eight of them of such outlandish shape and size. For one of them was for himself, the others for his newly-bought roches.

It was only when Hanlon finally lost patience and said sharply, "You stupid lout, I want them for a theatrical act," that the uniform-maker realized the reason for such an unusual order. Then things ran smoothly. The design was sketched, and material of a red to harmonize with the grayish-tan of the roches was chosen. The tailor consented also, for an added fee, to rush the job.

Hanlon's way home led through part of the district where the larger, better-class shops were located. He stopped in front of one of these.

He knew from his studies and from what he had seen here, that Estrella was just at the beginning of a mechanical culture. What sciences and machines they had were unbelievably crude and primitive to him, accustomed as he was to the high technologies of Terra and the colonized planets.

This display he was scanning featured their means of personal transportation. There were, of course, no moving slideways, nor even automobiles nor ground cabs nor copters. Instead, the Estrellans used motorized tricycles. Even the smallest of these was heavy, cumbersome, crude and inefficient, but they were speedier and easier than walking--when they worked.

The tricycles had large wheels, about three feet in diameter, with semi-hard, rubber-like tires. There were two wheels in back and one in front, steered by a tiller lever. Because of the weight of the engine and tank for the gas, even the smallest trike weighed several hundred pounds.

The fuel was acetylene gas, Hanlon found to his dismay. Electricity had been discovered here, but as yet they knew only direct current. No AC--no vacuum tubes--no telephones--no radios--no television--"ner nothing," Hanlon snorted in disgust.

But the native scientists and technicians had found how to use their D C to manufacture calcium carbide. Thus, they had plenty of acetylene gas, and many ways of using this for power.

"I'd lots rather have a good two-wheeled bike," Hanlon thought to himself, but decided, "guess I'd better buy one of these. Probably have to do a lot of chasing around, and since there's no 'for hire' ground cabs, I don't want to have to walk all the time. Besides, I might have to get somewhere in a hurry."

The salesman had first tried to sell him one of the larger three- or four-place family-sized tricycles that steered with a wheel. But Hanlon finally made the man understand that he wanted only a one-man machine, and the purchase was haggled into completion--at a price so low it surprised the young secret serviceman.

"Sure is one screwy world," he shook his head as he rode back toward his apartment, after learning how to operate his new machine and its tricky engine.

Back in his room, Hanlon reviewed the situation to date on this, his second assignment for the secret service of the Inter-Stellar Corps. He had been at the head of the commission sent to Algon where he (Hanlon) had been largely instrumental in freeing from slavery the strange, vegetable-like people, the Guddus.[1] The commission had helped them make a treaty with the Federated Planets by which the natives allowed the humans to mine certain valuable metals from their planet, and to maintain the spaceship-yards that had been built by the men who had formerly enslaved them, in return for protection from exploiters, and for certain cultural assistance. Just as his work there was about finished, a message had come for Captain Hanlon to report back to the planet Simonides.

[Footnote 1: See "MAN OF MANY MINDS," Fantasy Press, 1953.]

There he met his father, Regional Admiral Newton, second in command of the secret service. (This discrepancy of names was due to the fact that after young Spencer Newton's mother died, and his father "disappeared"--at the time he joined the secret service--the boy was adopted by George Hanlon, an ex-Corpsman, and his wife, and had taken his foster-father's name.)

"We're not getting anywhere on Estrella," his father had begun abruptly once they had warmly greeted each other. "I've come to the conclusion, and the Council agrees, that we need your special mental abilities there. But take it easy, Spence ... er, I never can seem to get used to calling you 'George'. Don't try to go it alone ... and you can wipe that cocky smirk off your face, mister," he commanded sternly. "This time it's an official order from the top brass. Those Estrellans are distinctly alien--not humans gone wrong."

Hanlon sobered down a bit, but secretly could not entirely shake off his attitude, feeling sure he was more than a match for any trouble he might run into. Hadn't he proved it, on Algon and right here on Simonides? Sure he had. Great Snyder, he wasn't a kid any more. He was a secret serviceman of the Inter-Stellar Corps, whom they called in when the rest of them, even his adored dad, failed.

"Just what's the problem there?" he asked, trying not to let these thoughts show in his face.

"The people of Estrella are not colonists from Terra or any of the colonized planets," the admiral explained slowly. "They are native to that world--the first such, by the way, that we have discovered who are advanced enough to be asked to join the Federation with equal status. They are quite man-like in shape, and of a high order of civilization. Their culture is much like Earth's was two hundred and fifty or three hundred years ago."

"Just beginning their real introduction to scientific and mechanical technologies on a planetary scale, eh?"

"That's it. Their system was discovered and mapped a few years ago. The Colonial Board immediately sent psychologists and linguists there to learn their language and study the natives and their form of government, their economics and general advancement. What they found, although far different from our own, was so surprisingly high that we sent them a formal offer to join the Federation. But ..." he stopped, frowning.

"Yes?" Hanlon was interested now, and paying close attention. "But what?"

"That's what we don't know. At first they seemed very pleased with the offer. They studied it carefully and, at our suggestion, sent a picked group of statesmen, scientists and merchants on a trip to our various worlds in one of our ships. These men and women seemed delighted with what they found, and enthusiastic about their world joining us. But, shortly after their return home and before the final treaties were signed, opposition began to develop."

"What kind of...?"

"All kinds. Enough to make the plans slow down and halt. The embassy sent there couldn't discover the reason--we have trouble enough understanding their way of thinking at all--and they yelled for help. We sent a couple of S S men there, and when they failed, I went there myself, to help them, and the embassy came home."

He shook his head. "I can't find a thing, either, that seems significant. Oh, the surface opposition is easily discernable. Papers, handbills, inflammatory speeches by spellbinders, whispering campaigns, all calling for keeping Estrella for the Estrellans and running out all foreigners bent on plundering the planet for their own enrichment--that sort of thing."

"Maybe some natives who want to take over, themselves," Hanlon ventured.

"Could be. We've thought of that, but have found no proof. We have no proof of anything except the opposition. Only one thing, that may or may not have something to do with this. We've discovered that almost simultaneously with this opposition an unprecedented crime wave started there--every type of criminal activity imaginable, and that is almost unheard of on that world. But we can't even get the first leads as to _who_ is behind it all. That's why I suggested you be called in, and the staff agreed."

The admiral paused and his piercing gray eyes bored earnestly into the blue ones of his son. "Keep this in mind at all times, Spence, for it is most important. We _must_ succeed there. This is the first non-Terran world we've found equal in cultural advancement to ours. But surely it won't be the last. And we must win them over. All civilized worlds must band together for mutual growth and well-being. So this is our most important project just now."

"Yes," seriously, "I can see that. Also, that if we do get them to join us, we can point out that fact to any other planets we may discover and try to bring into the Federation in the future."

_And lying at ease on a heavily-padded bench before the control board of a space cruiser, a stranger looked deeply into a multiphased scanner that worked on scientific principles not yet discovered by humans._

_For long, long months its mind had been studying this new world and its inhabitants. The language had been learned, after a fashion, as had much of the planetary economics and governmental intricacies. Now the minds of the people were being studied; it was searching, always searching, for certain types._

_But part of that mind remained continually in that of one certain Estrellan it had long ago selected._

Chapter 2

So now SSM George Hanlon was here on this planet they called Estrella, trying to see what he could find out. It was hard, devilishly and maddeningly hard, to discern what these people were really thinking. It wasn't their language--that had been fairly easy to sleep-learn from the reels. No, it was their mental processes--the way they thought. He was not too sure of himself yet, even with his ability to read their surface thoughts, for so often those thoughts held connotations he was not sure he understood.

For the Estrellan mind was so different from those of humans--its texture was coarser, for one thing, and the thought-concept symbols largely non-understandable to him so far. He had studied--he winced to think how hard he had studied--and he had practiced assiduously since arriving here. But he still could get only an occasional thought-idea of whose meaning he felt at all sure ... it was far worse than with humans. True, he was making some progress, but it was so--he grinned mirthlessly--"fast like a turtle." Yet he did not allow discouragement to keep him from continuing with his work.

For during the week he had been here he had managed to pick up some facts of which he felt sure. He decided his best method of approach lay with this new criminal element, for he was convinced from his study of the problem that they were, somehow, tied in with whoever was behind all the opposition to Estrella's joining the Federation of Planets. The tremendous increase in crime, so foreign to the general nature of these high-principled beings, and coming simultaneously with the development of that opposition, was not, he felt sure, coincidental. Working from the inside against a criminal gang had worked on Simonides--it might be equally successful here.

He had found what he felt was proof that a certain Ino Yandor, this world's greatest purveyor of entertainment, was actually a ring-leader in the criminal web, in this city, at least. And he had figured that the best way to get acquainted with this man was to pose as an entertainer.

Because of his ability to control the minds and muscles of animals, he decided to be an animal trainer. Hence his apparently strange action in buying eight Estrellan roches, or dogs. He had figured out an act that he thought was a dilly.

"At least," he grinned to himself, "it would knock 'em in the aisles on Terra or the human planets. But with these folks ..." he shrugged away the doubts.

Suddenly, as Hanlon was sitting there thinking all these things, he heard a tremendous commotion outside the house. There were the excited yells of many children, a terrific uproar of yelps and whines that he recognized as made by his roches, and the shrill complainings of the elders living in this and the adjacent houses.

"Oh, oh, my pups are being delivered," Hanlon grinned, and ran out to meet the messenger. As soon as he was in sight of the crowd, he began touching one rochian mind after another, sending them calming thoughts, and quieting their frenzied yelpings. By the time the eight dogs were in his rooms, they were well under control, and lay down as soon as they were inside.

Hanlon good-naturedly answered many of the questions hurled at him by the inquisitive youngsters; assured the apprehensive neighbors that he would see to it that the roches did not bother them; dismissed the man who had delivered the animals, with thanks and a gold penta, then hurriedly closed the door against the crowd still in the hallway.

He then settled down into a comfortable seat, and proceeded to get acquainted with his new pets. He first had to learn the texture of their individual minds, which were like yet different from those of earthly animals. Then each roch's individual characteristics had to be studied and learned, and the animal's wild nature more or less tamed and subdued, which last he found quite easy to do--from within.

The animals, in turn, had to become used to Hanlon's taking control of their minds and bodily functions, and of allowing him to handle them mentally without fighting back or trying not to obey.

This was eminently tricky work, but Hanlon's previous practice with many animals, birds and insects, both here and on Simonides and Algon, had given him facility so he was able to do it fairly easily.

"Why, they're really just nice little pooches at heart, in spite of that snout that looks like a pig's, set in that flat face. But I like 'em, and I think this'll work out OK." He fed and watered his pseudo-dogs, then let them go to sleep, as he was preparing to do.

Right after he and the roches had breakfasted the next morning, he set to work in earnest on their training for the special routines he had planned. As the day sped swiftly by he found his ideas working out even more satisfactorily than he had hoped. It would not be too long before he was ready to make contact with that Ino Yandor, the theatrical agent.

The following day Hanlon stayed in his room again, working with the animals, training them in group maneuvers, having learned how to handle them individually. It was a weird feeling, dissociating part of his mind and placing it in that of a roch, and with that portion of his mind consciously controlling the animal's brain to direct its nerves and muscles to do what he wanted done. And when he did this to eight roches simultaneously--well, even though he had done similar things before, it was still hard to get used to the idea that it was possible.

So hard had he been working that he was surprised when he happened to notice how dark it was getting. He went over and looked out of the window in his room, and saw it was night outside. A glance at the Estrellan time-teller on the wall, and he saw it was the dinner hour.

He rose and stretched, yawning vigorously. "Better get out and get some fresh air," he thought. He took the dogs for a half hour's run outside, then brought them back, fed and watered them. He impressed on their minds that when they were finished they were to go to sleep. Then again he left the building.

He couldn't help grinning a bit as he was walking down the street, thinking of the screwy way these people handled the problem of where to live. For the common, ordinary, not-too-rich people, there were apartment buildings, such as the one in which he lived, owned and operated by the government. When anyone wanted a room or an apartment, he merely hunted around in the district in which he wished to live until he found an empty place that suited him, then moved in. There was no landlord, no rent. Taxes paid for it.

You were supposed to take care of your own cleaning and minor repairs, or any special decorating you wanted done. Major repairs were handled upon request, by men paid by the government. If your furniture wore out, or no longer suited you, you simply moved to a place you liked better--and some other poorer person had to take what you had left, if all other rooms were occupied. Yet so considerate of others were the average Estrellans, that they seldom did this, preferring to replace the worn-out things themselves, if financially able to do so.

"Imagine the average Terran doing that," Hanlon had thought, wonderingly, when he first heard of it.

He had been lucky enough to find a three-room apartment fairly close to the downtown section of the city, yet far enough away so the crowd-noise did not bother him. The building in which he lived was of four stories, and he was on the second floor, near the back.

It was the third place he had looked at when he first came to Estrella. He could not at first make himself believe that all the rooms had such bad smells in them. But he soon found it to be true, largely because these natives had nothing that could be called efficient plumbing. When he had finally picked these rooms, he spent a full day airing them out, cleaning them thoroughly, and using what disinfectants and smell-eradicators he was able to find and buy in the stalls here.

The peculiar-looking, five-sided rooms were comfortably furnished, by Estrellan standards, and not too bad even from Earthly ones. The walls and ceilings and floors were painted in fairly harmonious colors, and there was a sort of half-matting, half-carpet rug on the floors. What corresponded to the living room contained two of their low, backless stools, and one quite comfortable lounging chair. There was a large and a small table, and an empty case where one could store any reading scrolls he might possess.

The bedroom had a low, foot-high, five-sided bed, but it was hard and uncomfortable until Hanlon figured how to make it softer, and more to his liking. There were several pegs on the wall from which to hang his clothing, two more of the backless stools, and the open place--a sort of well running from roof to basement--that was the toilet. Hanlon found a large piece of heavy cloth something like canvas, in one of the stalls, and made a hanging to cover this in lieu of a door, which shut out some of the smell-source.

The kitchen had shelves, a stove, and table and backless stools. In one corner, suspended through the ceiling, was an open water pipe with a sort of concrete drain beneath. This was both the source of water for cooking or drinking, and the bathing place--a primitive shower.

The reels furnished by Survey had told Hanlon that few of the Estrellan buildings were more than five stories high. "Some, in the business districts, may run to six or seven stories. We have concluded that the main reason for this is that the natives do not have elevators, except a few crude rope-and-pulley freight elevators in some of the stores and office buildings."

Now Hanlon sauntered slowly along the street, enjoying the fresh night air, warmed to about sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit, while he worked the kinks out of his tension-wearied body. This business of controlling the roches demanded such intense concentration that his mind and body were highly keyed up when he finished, and he had trouble relaxing.

He saw, almost without noticing this time, the primitive street lighting system that made flickering lights and shadows on the tree-shaded walks and roads. These people used natural gas for their nighttime outdoor illuminating--just semi-ornate standards with the flames rising a foot or so above them. Men went around at dusk to light them, and again at dawn to turn them off.

Hanlon had walked slowly for several blocks when he saw a native approaching him. When they came abreast the man stopped him.

"I do not remember seeing you about here before," he said, looking closely at Hanlon in the flickering light. "I am the peace keeper for this district," he added as he saw Hanlon's questioning look.

"No, I just moved in a few days ago," Hanlon answered.

"What do you do here? Do you have a job?"

"He thinks I'm a vag," Hanlon grinned to himself, and said aloud, in a courteous voice, "I just came from the Eastern Continent, nyer, and hope to become a public entertainer. I have enough money to support myself until I can earn more."

"That is good. If I can ever be of service in helping you to get acquainted, please look me up. I like to see all the people in my district happy and busy."

"I shall do that, nyer, and thank you for your courtesy." And as the man moved to one side, Hanlon gave him a cheery half-salute, and went on his way. "Darned nice people, really," he said to himself. "They'll make good Federation citizens."

When Hanlon had started out on this stroll he had had no special destination--was merely out for a breather. But as he ambled along a thought came to him, and he quickened his pace and walked more purposefully toward the downtown section and a certain building he had previously spotted.

It was a small "place where men drank," and his investigations had convinced him that many of this city's criminal element went there for relaxation. The cafe occupied the street floor of a small two-storied building that was, as were almost all the Estrellan buildings, a five-sided one.

For _five_ was the sacred number of the native religion and philosophy. Hanlon had learned that the number five was consistently used wherever possible, even in their architecture, their ornaments, and their coined money.

Their religion was based on five basic Truths taught by He Who Died For Them. These were: Love, Faith, Brotherliness, Honor, and Loyalty. Their philosophy (they called it their "Code of Living") was also composed of five parts: to be religious; to attain the highest possible mentality; to live physically clean lives; to be considerate of others always, and to be honest in all dealings.

The Terrans had found that while, of course, there were individuals who did not subscribe either to their religion or their Code of Living, that on the whole the race held a very high standard of ethics.

Now, as he walked inside the drinking place, the young S S man saw that the pentagonal room was brilliantly lighted, rather than kept dim as were most Terran and Simonidean cafes.

"Probably because they can't turn 'em low," he thought. For the lights were lamps burning a carbide compound, that gave out a harsh but very bright light.

As Hanlon took a seat at a small table, he looked about him interestedly. There was a bar across the back or third side, where the drinks were mixed. On the other four sides, except where the windows or doors interferred, were several small booths, with drawn curtains across their entrances for privacy. The balance of the floor was filled with two-, three- and five-place pentagonal tables, and their chairs, or rather, backless stools.

"What is your wish?" an attendant came to Hanlon's table.

"Glass of mykkyl, please."

While the waiter was bringing the barely-intoxicating but very popular drink, and later as Hanlon was slowly sipping it, the S S man let his mind roam throughout the small room, touching mind after mind, seeking and hoping to find those he had come here trying to locate.

He had to grit his teeth to keep from showing the frustration he felt on this world when trying to understand what these people were thinking. For he had long since found that, whatever a human might be speaking in words, his thoughts showed his true feelings simultaneously with and despite what he was saying. And Hanlon could usually read those surface thoughts and understand them fully.

But with the Estrellans, he had found this was not always true. There was sometimes an ... an _obliqueness_ ... that could not be directly translated by one no more used to their thought-patterns than he was so far.

George Hanlon was the only member of the Inter-Stellar Corps' secret service who could read minds at all--one of the very few humans ever to possess this ability to any demonstrable extent. And he was still young enough to feel occasionally that he was being badly treated by his inability to read these native minds at will.

While he was on that Simonidean assignment, and on the planet of Algon, he had even learned to telepath with the natives, the Guddu "Greenies," or plant-men. But here he could not do that at all. He could read and control animal minds, "and these lousy Estrellans are almost animals," he had growled beneath his breath at first, "so why can't I handle their minds?"

But even through this rude shock to his vanity he did not entirely lose his ability to think and reason logically. He had studied the problem intensively for these past days, and had come to certain preliminary conclusions.

"It's not, after all, that they're lower in the evolutionary scale than we Terrans are," he finally concluded. "It's just that they haven't advanced as far in scientific and technological knowledge. They may look like apes, but they sure aren't. Probably, when we get to really know them--if we ever do--we'll find they are 'way ahead of us in many things. They certainly, as a whole, practice their 'Code of Living' far better than most of our people do their professed religion."

This conclusion was another shock to his confident young mind. For he had more than half expected, when he first came here, to have an easy time of it in solving the problem on which he and the other secret servicemen were working.

Yet how quickly he had been disabused.

And now, in this little place where men drank, he was finding it out anew. None of the minds he was scanning with all the ability he possessed, was quite of the calibre he sought, although most of them displayed leanings toward larceny and other criminal tendencies. For this drinking place was not one which the more generally law-abiding and decent people of Stearra cared to patronize.

Maddeningly meager were the thoughts he could interpret, but when he finally came to scan the minds of four natives who were seated at a five-place table near the back, close to the bar, he made an almost unconscious exclamation of surprise and delight.

He "listened in" more closely to the four, who were leaning toward each other, talking together in low, earnest tones. Hanlon could read the surface thoughts in each mind, but only occasionally at first could he understand what they were discussing. However, as he became more accustomed to their individual peculiarities of thought, he began to get enough to convince him that these were the ones he was seeking. At least, they were planning some deviltries, and one spoke as though he had received orders as to what they were to do.

Hanlon even finally got their names, although of the latter he soon became interested mainly in that of the slender, blondishly-hairy native with the steely blue eyes. That one, Ran Auldin, was their leader, Hanlon decided.

More intently now, Hanlon studied their minds, paying no further attention to the others in the room. He lingered over his drinks for nearly an hour, "listening in" on the conversation of these mobsters, and learning quite a bit about their criminal activities, and better how to interpret their thoughts.

Suddenly he stiffened in even closer attention.

"The leader," Auldin was saying to his henchmen, but Hanlon knew from his side thoughts that the fellow meant Ino Yandor, "wants us to start a series of fires and wreckings about the city. We'll get a list of places tomorrow or next day, and that night we'll do the job."

"In the name of Zappa, why?" one of the men asked. "Why would he want us to do that?"

"Who cares why?" Auldin shrugged. "The leader, he tells us 'do this', and we do it, that's all."

"Sure," another chimed in. "We get paid for our work, and good pay, too. So let the big fellows worry about why they want certain things done."

"That's the way to look at it," Auldin said. "We'll meet here tomorrow evening, and I'll probably have the list. If not tomorrow, then next day. But meet here tomorrow, anyway."

So, Hanlon thought swiftly. Just like small-time crooks everywhere. Somebody with brains does the bossing, and they stupidly follow orders, interested only in the pay they receive, caring nothing about who or what gets hurt.

These fellows were certainly worth watching, he decided. Even if it did not lead him to the larger goal he was seeking--and he felt sure it would--he would spike their plans somehow.

He felt he had heard enough for the time being, so he rose and left the drinking place before they should notice him. He walked slowly back to his apartment, thinking about this new plan, wondering, as the mobster had done, why such orders were given. It made no sense to him, unless it was that the chief criminals were merely intent on spreading a reign of terror and destruction.

"Or are they," he thought suddenly, "planning later to make it seem as though we Terrans are doing it? Perhaps planning to start a whispering campaign of such rumors?"

More than ever now he was determined that such activities must be stopped. "We've got to clean up this planet, and get it into the Federation. If they keep on this way, they can be a real menace. But with this criminal activity wiped out, and Estrella a member of the Federation, we can help them so much--and they have a lot to teach us, too."

Chapter 3

The following day Hanlon continued working with his roches. He now "drilled" them as soldiers are drilled. He taught himself how to control their minds in unison, making them march in all the various complicated maneuvers of squads and columns, all in perfect alignment and cadence.

It was tricky, delicate work, requiring as it did placing a portion of his mind in each roch's brain, giving that mind and body individual commands, yet keeping enough central control in his own mind so they all performed exactly together.

So much of his mind was transferred to theirs, that he had to learn how to make his own body "stand at attention" during these maneuvers, with but minimum control over his own functions.

Hour after hour he worked with them, giving them fifteen minutes of rest out of each half-hour--and thus giving his own brain rest at the same time. For this was tiring work for him, as well as for them.

When dusk fell he stopped the training, saw to it that the roches were well-fed and watered, then put them all to sleep. He dressed for the street, went out and found an eating place, where he did full justice to a good meal.

"One thing you've got to hand these folks," he thought thankfully, "they certainly can cook, even though some of their dishes have a most unusual taste."

It had taken him several days to discover which native dishes he liked and could digest, for some of them almost made him ill, others had a taste he could not stomach, but most of them were delicious--and Hanlon was ordinarily a good trencherman.

His meal finished, Hanlon paid and went back to the drinking place where he sat, toying with a glass of mykkyl while waiting for Auldin and the others to appear.

They came in shortly, one by one, and Hanlon "listened in" on Auldin's mind as the chief mobster gave his fellows directions as to the places they were to burn or wreck. Hanlon had already prepared a note, addressed to the head of the local peace-keepers. To this he now added the addresses Auldin was giving. When he was sure he had them all, he slipped out of the little cafe.

He went swiftly along the streets toward the Stearra police headquarters, which he had previously located, keeping watch until he saw a dog-like roch running along. Quickly reaching out and taking control of its mind, Hanlon made the animal follow him until he could duck into a deserted doorway.

Hanlon made his messenger take the prepared note carefully in its mouth, then trot down the street and into the "police station." There it ran up to the man in charge, and raised itself up with its front paws on the man's knees.

"What in the name of...?" the official looked down, eyes bugging and mouth slack at the beast's unexpected action. For several moments he seemed not even to notice the paper in the roch's mouth. When he did, he took it gingerly, opened and read it.

"An attempt will be made just before half-night," Hanlon had written, "to set fire to or wreck the following places of business. If you watch carefully, you can catch the criminals in the act, and save these pieces of property from damage or destruction." Then followed the five addresses.

The man read the note twice, a puzzled, anxious frown on his face. He did not quite know what to make of it--or so his attitude seemed to indicate. There had been no "crime" on this planet that he had ever had occasion to try to stop. For he was not a police officer in the ordinary sense. The Estrellan "peace keepers" merely watched to see that crowds or individuals did not get too boisterous, aided in handling crowds at large gatherings, or assisted home those who may have imbibed too freely.

The fellow scratched the back of his head while he considered the matter at length. "Some phidi trying to make a fool of me," he finally said aloud, as Hanlon heard through his roch's ears, as he had been watching through its eyes. "But how in the name of Zappa did whoever it was train this roch to bring me the note like this?"

This latter problem seemed to have greater interest for him than the warning. For his eyes were still watching the roch with puzzled inquiry ... but he did nothing about acting upon Hanlon's suggestion.

As the S S man watched the roch leave the peace keeper's headquarters, he fumed because it was apparent that the official was going to take no action on his warning. Were they in on this criminal activity, he wondered? Was it that wide-spread, that even the supposed law-keepers were party to it?

No, he finally decided, probably this fellow was just a dumb, unimaginative sort of dope.

He watched miserably as the fires were set and the business buildings wrecked. There was nothing else he could do to stop it, for he knew it would only put himself in useless danger to try--would jeopardize what he and the other secret servicemen were trying to accomplish here. But as soon as the damage had been done he found another roch, and sent it back to headquarters with another scathing note.

"You paid no attention to my previous warning, and as a result two of the buildings I told you about have been set on fire, the windows smashed on another, and two others have been wrecked by explosions. Why don't you use what small brains you possess, and stop this wave of crime? Or are you being paid to ignore it?"

Through the eyes of the roch Hanlon watched the official read the note, and saw him fly into a rage and pace the floor ... but what the man was thinking Hanlon was too far away to read.

"One thing sure, I'll have to get busy and make contact with these gangsters," Hanlon thought bitterly as he went back to his room and to bed. "Guess I'm near enough ready to tackle Yandor now. Let's see, shall I do it directly, or...?"

He undressed and climbed into the low, foot-high, five-sided bed these Estrellans used. There was no mattress or springs, but fortunately his rooms had several extra blankets, and these he had folded beneath him to make his sleeping more comfortable.

He was still wrestling with his problem when he finally dropped off to sleep.

But the next day he figured it out to his satisfaction. He worked with his roches until evening, then went out and got himself a meal. Later he went, purposefully late, into the drinking place. Seeing Auldin and his men already at their table, he went directly up to them.

"Greetings, Ran Auldin," he said boldly. "I've been looking for you, for I want to join your group. I'm fast and clever with knife or flamegun, and I've got plenty of ideas. I can do us both a lot of good."

The other three half-rose, staring at him with hostile eyes. But their chief made a gesture that said "Wait", and himself looked Hanlon up and down coolly. "You are mistaken, my friend," he said at last. "We are not engaged in such activities as might require the use of ... of knife or gun. We are lawful businessmen."

Hanlon fitted his face to a crooked smile and his voice was almost sarcastic as he replied, "Sure, sure, I know. But listen, friend. A fellow out to make a big pile of pentas doesn't do it by being asleep. I've done a lot of scouting 'round and asking questions in a discreet way. I know who I'm talking to."

His mind, always in touch with that of the others, read in their surface thoughts the surprised, "Oh, so that's why we've had the feeling the past few days we were being watched." He could tell that this conclusion made them jittery, and more cautious and ready for instant action.

But Hanlon had to keep on the path he had taken.

Aloud, Auldin merely said again, in a voice he kept mild and low, "I'm sorry, my friend, but you are still mistaken. We work for another man, helping him hunt out talented people and make entertainers out of them."

"During the day, yes," Hanlon gave him a wise smile, "and I can help him a lot in that, too."

He knew the three other men had been growing more and more angry at his interruption. He could interpret their thoughts well enough so he was tensed for quick-action, determined not to be caught off guard.

"But what I'm really interested in," Hanlon continued, "is your evening activities. By the way, I hope none of you got hurt or burned last...." He wheeled swiftly, for one of the natives had suddenly leaped up and toward him, a dagger in his hand, slashing at him.

Hanlon met him with a light, contemptuous laugh. He ducked beneath the other's knife-slash, then stepped in close. His left fist traveled only a few inches, but all the strength of his powerful shoulder and arm muscles was in the blow. His fist sank to the wrist in the man's solar plexus.

Wind _whooshing_ out, the gangster doubled up in pain. Hanlon chopped down with the edge of his hand on the other's wrist, and the knife clattered to the floor. The Corpsman swung viciously with a right uppercut that lifted his attacker and drove him backward. He crashed into a chair with such force that as man and stool fell to the floor, the wooden seat was splintered.

The other two leaped to their feet and started forward. As though he had eyes in the back of his head and had seen them coming, Hanlon swivelled toward them, his lips thinned in a fighting grin, while several of the cafe attendants were running up.

"Leave him alone," Ran Auldin commanded sharply, and his men looked back at him in astonishment. "The stranger was only defending himself against an unprovoked attack by Ugen," Auldin explained to the cafe's men. He turned to his fellows. "You two take Ugen home and put him to bed. I want to talk to this stranger."

As the surly guards picked up the limp body of their fallen companion and bore him out, the drink-servers returned to their posts. Evidently Ran Auldin was known and respected here. He now faced Hanlon and motioned toward one of the stools.

"Sit down, my friend," he said courteously. "Perhaps we can do a bit of talking."

"No use for knives, eh?" Hanlon grinned as he sat down. But immediately he sobered. "I figured maybe you'd be willing to talk, although I didn't expect to have to slap down one of your boys to make you. I'm sorry if I hurt him."

And Hanlon was sincere in this. He had momentarily forgotten that he was on a lighter planet, with a gravity only about 90% that of Terra, and that consequently he would naturally be stronger than the average Estrellan native. While this would not have kept him from defending himself from that sudden, vicious attack, he would have pulled his punches a bit had he thought. He did not like killing or injuring people.

But Auldin was answering, and Hanlon knew he had better be on his toes and pay strict attention. There were undertones and concepts behind the spoken words that were hard for his Terran mind to interpret.

"You needn't be sorry," Auldin assured him. "Ugen was useful, in a way, but he's stupid. I don't especially like stupid people." He studied Hanlon closely. "I don't think you're stupid."

"I don't know it all, by any means," the S S man said with disarming candor, "but I never considered myself simple."

"Now, what makes you think we are engaged in anything ... illegal ... during our evenings?"

"Look, nyer, let's not you and me chase ourselves around a flowertree. If I'm out of line, say so and I'll take a run. But since we're talking here together, all peaceful-like, and there's nobody within hearing distance if we talk low, let's put it on the penta, shall we, huh?"

Ran Auldin looked at Hanlon another moment, his face and thoughts showing puzzlement at the stranger's choice of words. Then he laughed quietly. "By Zappa, I like you, my friend. What's your name?"

"Gor Anlo."

"You're a cool one, all right. Where are you from? I've not seen you around Stearra before."

"No, I'm from Lura, over on the Eastern Continent. The goody-goodies are mostly in charge there, and there's no way for a hustler to make a fast pile. So I came here, hoping there'd be more chances for me. I've been here six-seven days, looking over the ground, and making a little investigation. The best leads pointed to your boss, Ino Yandor."

Auldin started at that name, and while he was staring anew at Hanlon, the latter's mind flashed back over that investigation. His first day had been spent getting the "feel" of the city through wide-open mental searchings. Not so much from individuals at first, but from the mass-thoughts of the many. He had later touched hundreds of minds and studied them, trying to learn how to interpret those alien thoughts. He had no trouble getting the thoughts themselves--it was what they meant that puzzled and troubled him.

Now, having noted the start Auldin made at mention of Ino Yandor's name, and the close, searching look the mobster bent toward him, Hanlon continued quickly with an appearance of great intensity and seriousness. "I figured that I could get to him easier through one of his seconds in command, and picked on you."

"One of his...?" Auldin started to ask, then quickly changed his mind. "Because you thought I was more weak-minded?" There was now a hint of anger in the cold eyes.

"Not on your life, Ran Auldin. Because I figured, after studying the set-up, that you were about ready to take over in his place one of these days, probably soon, and that would put me closer to the real power ... and the big money."

"Hmmm, I see." Auldin was silent for some time, digesting all this in his mind. He was pleased at the compliment, but somewhat startled at two pieces of information Hanlon had so carelessly tossed out. One, that apparently Auldin was not Yandor's chief or only "second in command" and, two, that this stranger had so quickly and easily divined his secret ambition.

Hanlon, reading his mind, could discern and understand all this. Also, he knew when Auldin began trying to figure out whether this newcomer was legitimately on the make, or whether he was a spy sent by someone--perhaps even Yandor--to check up on him. That last statement of Hanlon's really upset him more than the first, which he had sometimes suspected. He worried about the latter now. It was the truth, all right, but he had not thought anyone else knew it or even suspected it. Did Yandor suspect it? If so, Auldin knew he was in for trouble ... bad trouble.

Hanlon decided it was time for him to do a little steering. "Look, Auldin," he interrupted the other's somewhat frightened thinking. "Why not take me to Yandor and introduce me? Let him decide whether he wants to let me in or not?"

For a long moment Auldin stared again at Hanlon, but when he finally answered there was a note of relief in his voice he tried to conceal. Yet he was not entirely convinced that this might not be all part of an espionage trick formed in the fertile but hellishly devious mind of his superior, Ino Yandor. But Auldin was one who preferred to meet his dangers face to face ... when they could not be avoided.

"That might not be a bad idea," he said as calmly as he could. "But look, my friend. Don't try to play me for an easy fool. I'd do things about it if you did."

"Sure, I know that," Hanlon's voice was bland and ingenuous. "I'm not figuring on your job--being a yunner I know I've got to begin low and work up. A chance to get started is all I want ... for now."

Auldin rose, took some of the five-sided silver pentas from his pocket and dropped them on the table. "Fair enough. Come on."

The two were mostly silent as they walked along the narrow, unpaved, crooked streets, past the not-too-tall, five-sided buildings of the mercantile establishments of this district. After a few blocks of the winding, twisted streets--"didn't these folks ever learn anything about surveying?" Hanlon often wondered--they turned down a tree-shaded residential street. They walked past increasingly pretentious houses, which Hanlon knew were of the ubiquitous pentagonal construction so general on this planet. It was this unusual type of buildings that Hanlon found it hard to adjust to. The first day or two on this planet and in this city the odd shapes and crooked streets had so distracted him he had trouble concentrating on his job.

Now he looked interestedly at the almost-universal green-tiled roofs, and also at the gardens of beautiful but strangely-unearthly flowers. He saw, too, the thick-trunked, low but wide-spreading flowertrees that lined the streets and were heavily planted in most of the yards surrounding the houses.

He tried, naturally, to see if these latter had any minds he could touch--ever since knowing those plant-like Guddus this had become almost automatic with him at sight of any new kind of tree, bush or plant. But he drew a blank here, as he had elsewhere. Those alien growths on Algon might be unique in the universe, he thought.

Hanlon was glad of Auldin's silence as they walked along. It enabled him to get his own thoughts in order, and to try to plan as best he could for this coming interview with Yandor, not knowing what to expect ... except that it would undoubtedly try his abilities to the utmost.

There were some slight traces of fear in his mind, for he was, after all, still a very young and inexperienced man playing a dangerous game. But his success in his first assignment--the dangers he had faced and the victories he had wrested because of his unusual and growing wild talent--thought of them brought back his self-confidence and with it an almost contemptuous view of the dangers here. There was really nothing to fear after all, he told himself. But still....

Hanlon and Auldin came to a place in the street where it climbed a fairly steep hill--there were many such throughout this city--and were nearly winded when they finally reached the top. Still wordless, they were both glad of the chance to stop and rest a moment. Then they started on again, along a much nicer part of the street, rapidly approaching the home of Ino Yandor.

This entertainment entrepreneur (that was, in effect, the nearest approach to a familiar profession of which Hanlon could think) was the one the young secret serviceman's investigations had led him to believe was the first rung on the ladder he must climb to find the knowledge that lay at the top.

"Ah, here's the place," Auldin said at last, as they turned up a sort of cobbled walk leading to the fairly imposing residence. It was an ornately-decorated, two-story house, pentagonal in shape, and with a green-tiled roof, of course. The three sides Hanlon could see were painted in different, though mutually complementary colors. The surrounding lawns were made of the peculiar grass so general here, with its minutely-petalled flower-tips. There were also numerous beds of the strange, native flowers, highly-perfumed, but not heavily blossomed except in the mass.

Hanlon thought he caught large numbers of thought-emanations from animal minds of various kinds, but before he could investigate, Auldin spoke.

"One word of warning. Don't be too eager. Yandor may seem slow thinking and calculating, but don't make the mistake of thinking him stupid. And don't irritate him--he seldom shows his temper, but he is deadly vindictive to those he takes a dislike to. But he is a good employer--and generous to those who serve him well and efficiently."

"Thanks for the tip. I'll be on my good behavior." But Hanlon grinned to himself as he read the reason for that warning in Auldin's mind. If this stranger was spying for Yandor, he would have to make a good report on Auldin.

Then, as the mobster used the ornate knocker, Hanlon tensed himself for--literally--anything.

Chapter 4

After a considerable wait the door was opened. By the light from inside George Hanlon saw a fairly tall native, his hair and beard sleek and burnished from much brushing, and trimmed with unusual care. He was wearing a sort of slip-on gown of heavy cloth, probably a lounging robe. Perhaps the man had already gone to bed--in which case he would undoubtedly be quite provoked at their untimely call, Hanlon thought. Indeed, the man's face showed surprise and petulance at this interruption.

But Hanlon could see shrewdness and a crafty trickiness inherent in the black eyes, that caused an inward tremor. "I'd sure better be on my toes with this fellow," he thought.

Yandor scanned the two for a long moment, without a word, then beckoned them inside. But as soon as the door was shut--and locked--he turned angrily on Auldin.

"Well now, what's the big idea, you stupid idiot, of coming here, and at night, and bringing someone with you. Are you trying to cross me, Ran? You know that isn't healthy."

Ran Auldin cringed somewhat and made his voice apologetic. "It's because it was night, nyer, and we wouldn't be noticed, that I came now. Besides, I think this is important. I want you to meet Gor Anlo, who's just come from Lura, looking for a chance, he says, to get into our businesses."

Auldin slightly emphasized that last word, and Yandor's eyes snapped wide. He swung about and faced Hanlon, studying him carefully. The young man bore the scrutiny without flinching, a smile of greeting on his face, but without a sign of boldness or brashness.

After a moment Yandor motioned them into an adjoining room, and himself went to sit behind a large, ornate, wooden table-desk. "Sit," he waved a delicate hand at the two chairs facing him in such a manner that the desk-lamp's light was strong in the faces of the two, while leaving his own more or less in the shadows. Hanlon could barely repress a grin at this--it smacked so intimately of the old Terran police-questioning technique.

During the short moments they had been in the hallway, however, Hanlon had noticed a small roch standing there, apparently one that Yandor must have partially tamed and kept as a pet. Quickly the S S man had transferred a part of his mind into that of the beast. Now, while his own body and nine-tenths of his mind were in that office room for the interview with Ino Yandor, the other tenth, inside the brain of the roch, was making the animal roam the house, seeking whatever secrets it might find there.

The impresario looked at Hanlon searchingly. "Well now, so you think you'd like to get into the entertainment business, eh?" he said with an attempt at joviality.

"Yes, nyer, that ... and other things," Hanlon answered calmly. "Back in Lura where I come from, sir, the people seem to be against the idea of a young fellow getting ahead in the world. So," shrugging, "I came here where I thought there was a better chance of doing myself some good. Me, I'm out after a basketful of gold pentas ... and not too particular how I get 'em," he added levelly, but in his eyes was an unmistakable message the Estrellan could not help reading correctly.

"But there are entertainment procurers on the Eastern Continent," Yandor was sparring for time to evaluate this situation better. "If you have a good way of pleasing the people, they would be glad to take you in hand."

"Anlo isn't stupid, Yandor," Auldin interrupted ... and Hanlon was glad he did at just that moment. For the roch had just peered through the half-open doorway of a room upstairs, and found a man, probably a servant, lying there on the bed, apparently reading from a scroll.

Hanlon did not especially like this spying on anyone, but he _had_ to learn all he could about what was going on here, no matter how he gained the information.

So he reached out and studied the man's mind. The fellow was not reading at the moment, he found, but was thinking of the "payback" he owed someone named Ovil Esbor, who had obtained this position for him. This Esbor was much like a Terran "ward boss"--a minor politician, but connected with many shady dealings. Hanlon had not previously heard that name, but made a mental note to investigate the man further. He might be another lead.

The S S man withdrew his mind after a bit, and sent the roch searching the other rooms. He noticed quite a few animal pets about the house, but thought nothing special of it at the moment. Meanwhile he, in his own person, began paying more attention to what Auldin and Yandor were saying.

"... been in town several days, he says, looking over the situation. How he found out I don't know, but he knows _all_ our businesses."

Yandor barely repressed a start of surprise, and his crafty black eyes narrowed. "Why are you spying on ... no, _who_ are you spying on us _for_?" he demanded in cold tones that again sent a shiver down Hanlon's spine. For there was no mercy or lack of ruthlessness in that tone. Nor in the man's attitude. Yet, at the same time, the young man realized stunningly that Yandor, too, was as much afraid of _his_ superior as Auldin was of Yandor ... and Hanlon knew after a fleet scanning of the gangster's mind that he now felt relief that Yandor had not been investigating him through Hanlon.

But the young S S man had been reading the impresario's thoughts as best he could, as well as hearing what he was saying. He felt that he knew now how to handle this agent.

"As Auldin said, I'm not stupid, and I am on the make for my fortune. I knew the only way was to check first and talk later. So I asked seemingly innocuous questions here and there--and I'm wise enough never to ask more than one from any one person. That way I found out a lot. I do know something about the entertainment business and can hold up my end of the performance. But I also know the really big money is in the other things you control."

Yandor did gasp at that. His face grew black and he half-rose and opened his mouth to say something--but Hanlon beat him to it.

"Incidentally," he lowered his voice but still kept it penetrant as he leaned forward confidentially, "there's someone in the next room, listening through that door there, to what we're saying."

At Hanlon's quiet words, Ino Yandor's eyes opened wide, while Ran Auldin barely repressed an exclamation. Neither guessed, of course, that the stranger was looking through the eyes of Yandor's pet roch which, in the course of its investigation of the house for Hanlon's benefit, had come to the open doorway of that adjoining room, and had seen the man kneeling there, his ear pressed against the door-panels, listening intently.

Now Yandor reached into a sort of pigeon-hole in his table-desk and quietly took out a flamegun. Tensing himself, he suddenly swung his chair about and leaped to the door. Flinging it open he found, indeed, another man there, before that other could rise and run.

Grabbing the spy's collar with one surprisingly strong hand, Yandor yanked him to his feet and into the light.

"_Ondo!_" he exclaimed. "Well now, what in the name of Zappa were you doing?"

The small man cringed. "Pardon, nyer, I was ... was only trying to make sure that no one was attempting to harm you ... and ... and standing by to help you if they were."

"I think he's lying," Hanlon said, knowing from his quick probe into the other's mind that he was. "I'll bet he's a spy for someone."

This last, he knew however, was not correct. Ondo was regularly employed by Yandor as a houseman. But he was one of those intensely curious and inquisitive people who always try to find out everything that goes on in any house they happen to be working in.

"By Zappa, you'll never spy again," Yandor's face grew livid. "You know better'n to cross me. You know it isn't healthy."

And before anyone could guess what he was about to do, the raging impresario chopped down with the butt of his flamer, and Ondo fell unconscious to the floor, blood welling from a gash in his forehead. The furious entrepreneur was swinging the weapon into firing position to kill the fallen man when Hanlon leaped forward and grasped his arm, holding him back.

"Wait, nyer. Don't cinder him," he said almost in a tone of command. "It wouldn't look well for a man of your public position, if word of it ever leaked out."

"I say kill the snake," Ran Auldin spat. "There's no sense taking chances with a man we know is a spy."

"No!" Hanlon was still quietly determined to save Ondo's life. He spoke as impressively as he could. "Such a killing, with a body to dispose of, would most certainly be traced back to you in time, nyer, and you would lose much of the respect the public holds for you. Your success in your ... other ... endeavors is largely due to the fact that everyone knows you for such a high-principled, public-spirited citizen, that no one suspects you of being anything else. Don't take chances on spoiling that reputation."

Yandor was swayed by this impassioned appeal, it was plain to be seen. His respect for Hanlon's quick good sense and sound judgment mounted, and he looked at the young man with new interest.

"Anlo's right, Ran," he told his lieutenant. "We mustn't have a killing on our hands that can be so easily traced to us."

He turned back to Hanlon, who was grinning inwardly at Yandor's almost-panic that made him forget for the moment that there were no real police detectives on this world who could so easily trace back a killing, especially if only ordinary precautions were used to dispose of the body.

"Well now, I thank you for saving me from the risk my temper might have caused. What would you suggest we do with this ... this ...", he pushed at the body with his foot.

"It's easy to see that Ondo is only a scared rat, and when he wakes up he'll know he'd better keep away from you or he'll really be killed," Hanlon spoke carelessly. "Just have Auldin take him out and dump him on the next street. Ondo will never bother you again, I'm positive."

Auldin seemed about to protest, but Yandor forestalled him. "That's good advice. Take care of it, Auldin."

And after the gangster had left the house with his burden, Yandor resumed his seat and motioned Hanlon to take the one he had formerly occupied. But while they were doing this, the young S S man had sent his mind outdoors, found a sleeping bird and taken over its mind. He made it follow Auldin, so he would know where Ondo's body was taken. He would try to save the fellow's life if he could--he had got him into this predicament, it was up to him to get the chap safely out of it.

"Well now," Yandor was saying, "I'm beginning to believe you will be a valuable man in our group. I'll think about it some more, and see you sometime tomorrow and we'll talk further about it. But I'm only promising to talk," he added hurriedly, "I'm not saying what my decision will be."

"That's all I could ask for now, for I know I can prove my worth." He rose and bowed courteously. "So I'll see you at your place of business in the morning."

"You know where it is?" surprisedly.

"But of course."

As soon as he was out of the house, Hanlon went carefully to the weed-infested vacant lot where Auldin had dumped Ondo's body. When he saw the gangster returning, Hanlon quickly hid behind a great flowertree.

Hanlon had brought the bird back to Yandor's house, and now made it perch where it could look through a window. Through the bird's eyes he saw the two inside, talking together for some minutes, Yandor apparently very angry, Auldin on the defensive. Then the slender mobster slunk from the house, and started back toward the downtown section. Hanlon made the bird follow him, to make sure Auldin was really going home, and was not circling about to try to find out what Hanlon was doing or where he was going.

Then the SS man went to the vacant lot to find Ondo sitting up, holding his aching head. Almost roughly he jerked him to his feet.

"Look, you phidi," Hanlon made his voice deadly menacing, "I don't like people who go around trying to find out about me and my business. Yandor merely insisted that I see to it that you left town immediately, but I'm not that soft-hearted. I'm going to kill you, then I'll know you've done your last snooping."

He reached toward his pocket, as though for a knife or flamegun.

The man was a small, terror-stricken rat. But he was not entirely lacking in the universal will to live. Suddenly he half-stooped, then jumped forward, his shoulder crashing into Hanlon's body. The young Corpsman could have maintained his balance, but he let himself fall, as though he had been knocked down by the blow.

Ondo took off like a scared dara, and in brief seconds was out of sight. Hanlon waited several minutes, then went down the street toward his rooming house, grinning to himself. He was happy that it could be worked out this way.

He was sure this Ondo would leave Stearra without delay. Hanlon's hint about that was enough, he was sure--especially since he knew Ondo was convinced that he would be killed out of hand if he ever allowed himself to be seen hereabouts again.

As he walked swiftly along, Hanlon released the bird from its mental spell, for it was now apparent Auldin was really going downtown, or home. But before releasing the bird, Hanlon guided it back to a comfortable perch in a tree, and put it to sleep.

He could not help feeling gratitude--yet still with an awed sense of wonder--about his ability to control animal minds. He remembered so vividly that day on the great spaceliner _Hellene_, when he had discovered this tremendous ability with the little puppy ... what was its name...? oh, yes, Gypsy. And the still greater thrill when he was experimenting later with the dogs on the kennel deck, and had found that he could not only read their complete minds and control their nerves and muscles to make them follow his bidding, but that he could also _dissociate_ a portion of his mind, put it in their brains and leave it there, connected with the balance of his own mind merely by a slender thread of consciousness, yet able to think and act independently.

But it certainly came in mighty handy in his work as a secret serviceman, and he was thankful to whatever powers may be that had given him this ability to do these amazing things. Now if he could only learn how to read and control the whole mind and body of a human, instead of being able to read only their surface thoughts!

But he was trying to learn to be content with what he had, and to use it thankfully.

Yet he never ceased trying to learn more--to be able to do more along these lines.

Finally back in his room Hanlon grinned again to himself as he began undressing. He felt good. He had put it over again. He was sure he was "in".

He sat down on a chair and removed the special shoes he was wearing. These native Estrellans were very man-like in shape as well as mentality, but there were enough structural differences so it had taken the expert cosmetician many hours to fix him up to look like one of them. These shoes, for instance, because Estrellans had unusually large feet, were really shoes-within-shoes, to fit his feet correctly inside and yet appear large enough on the outside not to attract attention.

* * * * *

_In the spaceship high above, intent thoughts had been coursing through the mind of the being. Finally, certain commands were impressed upon the mind of the Estrellan native the being controlled, that would set in motion a new train of events._

_The native cringed as those thoughts came into his mind. They were not the kind of things he would ever consider, of himself. They outraged his every sense of right and justice. It made him actually, physically sick even to contemplate them, and he wondered briefly how he had ever come to get such ideas._

_Yet something, he could not guess what, forced him to do them, despite his every struggling, heartsick effort not to obey the commands he did not even know were commands._

Chapter 5

As SSM George Hanlon continued undressing, he recalled his parting with his father on Simonides.

"How soon do I start?" he had asked, boyishly eager, at the close of their interview. "Right away?"

"Whoa, son, not so fast," the admiral laughed. "You'll have to have a series of inoculation-shots against the Estrellan diseases. Then you'll have to learn a lot, and especially, you'll have to be disguised to look like a native, which isn't easy. Here are reels of the language, customs and geography. Get a room in the hotel here and sleep-learn them. I think you'll find the language not too hard--it's a simple, uncomplicated one, outside of their habit of putting the verbs ahead of the nouns, and then the adjectives or adverbs. As to their way of thought--well, that's far different. Even with your ability to read their minds, I'll bet you have trouble in really understanding them for some time. I'm not always sure I do, even yet."

"Tough, eh?"

"That they are. You can't work them like you do humans--their concepts seem not at all like ours in so many things. We can get in serious trouble through misunderstanding their apparently straight-forward words. So go slow and easy."

"I'll watch for that, dad, and bone up on the rest as fast as I can. Meanwhile, how's about going out and wrapping ourselves around a couple of thick steaks--or some of that good _poyka_ at the Golden Web? I'd like to see Hooper again."

"The grub I'll buy. But Curt isn't here--he's one of the boys working Estrella with me."

The lessons learned in time, Hanlon visiphoned Admiral Hawarden at Base, who sent the cosmetician to him at the hotel. The shoes had been only part of the job. There was the smock-coat, which Hanlon was now removing in his room in Stearra. Estrellans had narrow, sloping shoulders, so a tailor had made special clothes--the coat almost like a knee-length, slipover sweater only of a heavy cloth like homespun, with shoulders whose cut and padding gave them the proper sloping look. There was also the divided-skirt sort of pantaloons, that gathered at the ankle.

As he undressed Hanlon looked at himself in the mirror, and grinned. Trevor had dyed his skin all over--not the dark red of Terran Indians, not yet the black of negroes nor the brown of Malayans, but a sort of deep pink. Hanlon had been warned not to take either tub or shower baths, but had been supplied with a bottle of a special chemical.

Naked at last, he scratched luxuriously and stretched hugely. He poured a bowlful of water, added seven drops of the chemical, then gave himself a sponge bath.

As he was washing his face he noticed with amusement the way his ears had been built up with plastic to almost twice their natural size, and the way his nose had been made so much broader--like a giant ape's it spread over half the width of his face.

He was careful not to pull off any of the hair that had been so painstakingly glued to his body to simulate the general hairiness of the Estrellans. And, of course, he had neither shaved nor had a haircut since being assigned this job, and his beard was growing nicely. But it, and the body hair, was the most uncomfortable part of his imposture--the darned stuff itched, but bad. He scratched.

Anyway, he thought thankfully, Trevor had really done a job on him. No one yet met here had seemed to notice anything out of the way with him, as far as his looks went. He had easily passed everywhere as a real native.

A two-man speedster had brought him to this planet, and had landed him just outside this city they called Stearra, in the dead of night. His father, he knew, had preceded him by nearly two weeks, was here somewhere, as were Manning and Hooper, the two other S S men assigned here. A sneak boat came every two weeks, and stayed at a designated spot near the principal city on each continent from midnight until three in the morning, in case any of the men wanted to send messages or needed assistance of any kind.

Undressed--and scratched--and washed--and scratched--Hanlon lay down on his bed and gave himself up to thoughts of the coming interview at Ino Yandor's office. He tried to analyze what he had learned and its possible connection with whatever it was that was keeping Estrella from joining the Federation of Planets; from becoming the fifty-eighth member of that far-flung union of self-governing worlds.

It seemed to him he had made a good start--although he was slightly dissatisfied with the speed at which he was _not_ getting ahead. Yet he had felt all along--and still so thought--that with his way of working his best course lay through the criminal gangs of Stearra--that by working up through them he would eventually come to the ones who were behind all this. And he was sure this Ino Yandor was his best lead to date, even though it seemed strange that an entertainment agent would be the top man in the criminal world.

His father had not been too certain that this was a logical channel of investigation, but was quite willing to let Hanlon try it--the Corps _had_ to have that information, and each man of the secret service should work the way that seemed best to him. Nor could the admiral argue against Hanlon's insistence that this sudden rise of hitherto-unknown criminal activity just at this time was not purely coincidental.

But the whole thing was such a seemingly insoluble puzzle. From his own investigation since he had arrived--from the "feel" of the city and its inhabitants to his sensitive perceptions--Hanlon knew the people on the whole were such swell folks; the kind that would make wonderful Federation citizens, even if they did look so peculiar and animal-like to Terrans. Any race with a religion and a code of living based on such common decencies and high-principled honesties as theirs, was bound to be a good one.

From all he had been able to learn, Hanlon thought the Ruler, Elus Amir, a decent fellow and extremely capable. Amir certainly had shown by his actions all during his tenure of office that while their system of government was a sort of limited autocracy, that he, at least, was trying to make it a benevolent one. Unless all the information Hanlon and the S S had gathered was haywire, this Amir was certainly not behind all this sudden opposition. He had seemed--especially at first--to be very much in favor of joining.

Then who in the name of Snyder was?

Suddenly a new idea brought Hanlon upright on the bed.

Was Amir merely a tool--like the emperor of Sime had been under Bohr? Was there someone here who was comparable to that devilish Highness? Somebody with Bohr's brains and driving lust for power and ever more power?

Hanlon sucked in his breath in sudden wonder--and worry. Was this unknown another alien from the same, or some other advanced and far-away planet as yet unknown to the Corps, working to take over Estrella and possibly--or finally--the rest of the Federated Planets and the whole galaxy?

It took Hanlon a long time to go to sleep... nor had he found the answers to his puzzle when he finally did drop off.

* * * * *

When George Hanlon appeared in Ino Yandor's office just before midday, the dapper impresario ushered his visitor into an inner room and closed the door.

"I think Ondo has left town--or died. For I have heard nothing more of him, nor have any of my men. You were right about a killing that could be traced to me being bad for my carefully-built reputation. Well now, about your working for me. You said you knew something about the entertainment business. What can you do?"

"Well, I can't sing or posture, and I'm not much good at acrobatics. I can whistle a little, and...."

"'Blow'? What is that?" Yandor used his definition of the word Hanlon had translated as meaning "whistle."

Oh, oh. Hanlon knew he had blundered. In an effort to cover up he said, "This," and puckered up his lips and whistled a few discordant notes, concealing the fact that he was an excellent whistler, and could do perfectly dozens of bird-call imitations.

"No, I'm afraid that is nothing our people would care for."

"Then how about an animal act?"

This was the crucial point. Hanlon had given a lot of thought to this, and had worked out the idea he thought might apply here. It certainly would go big back on Terra, he knew, but he was not yet conversant enough with Estrellan theatrical acts--even though he had gone to the theatre several times to study them--to know if these strange people would like it or not. But he had to get in the good graces of Yandor.

"What sort of an animal act do you have in mind?" the impresario asked doubtfully. "Our audiences are very particular. It has to be good, very good, and unusual."

"I think they'll like mine," confidently. "I have eight pet roches, and as...."

"Roches!" Yandor looked incredulous. "You mean you've actually trained some roches?"

"That's right. I've trained them as a hobby. I drill 'em just like our Ruler's residence guards do--and other things as well. I'm sure the people will like the act. I'll bring 'em down and show you what they can do."

"Well now," still hesitantly, "that may be all right. It sounds most unusual, to say the least. I'll look at them, say, the day after tomorrow--yes, I think I'll have time then."

"Thank you, nyer. Then, after I've shown you what I can do about that, we can talk about ... other things."

There was a flash of anger in the snapping, black eyes. "Don't press me, Anlo. I go slow about things like this, and I'll want to know all about you first."

"Sure, I know that. I didn't mean to hurry you--I just wanted to remind you I was still thinking about the main thing, not merely about a little matter like being an animal trainer."

He left the offices then, and started toward home. But on the way he began thinking about that man, Ovil Esbor, he had heard mentioned. He took a couple of hours out, then, to investigate many minds to see what he could learn about the fellow.

He found that his initial information was correct--Esbor was a small-time, local politician, but was also connected with many other businesses about the city. He ran a sort of employment agency as his business "front", but there were rumors that he was also a "fence" for stolen goods, a panderer and narcotics agent, and many other illegal things.

These latter, however, Hanlon registered in his mind as merely rumors, not facts, for he could get no direct evidence of them, even though he "read" about such things in many minds. But he was convinced that the man was one about whom he should learn a lot more, as he had time for such investigation. He felt sure that Esbor fitted in somewhere in the chain of criminals Hanlon was so sure was tied in with the group who were trying to keep Estrella out of the Federation.

He went back to his apartment then, and to the training of his roches. He was well satisfied with them--he liked them as pets, and they had learned to like him. When he first came in they swarmed all over him, and all of them had a good romp before he got them down to serious business.

He was also quite happy about the way things were going. He was putting it over again, for he felt certain that through Yandor he could get the dope he needed on the higher-ups. Yandor had never even so much as denied that he had other irons in the fire than his theatrical business. And from vague ideas Hanlon had seen in the man's mind from time to time, he felt surer than ever that he was on the right track.

That evening he again went out for some fresh air. As he was strolling aimlessly down the street he saw an elderly Estrellan native approaching. The fellow seemed very friendly, wanting to stop and chat--and Hanlon found himself grinning inwardly at the old man's garrulous good nature, so like that of Terran elders, something he had not before found here.

The young S S man touched the other's mind almost as a matter of course at the outset, and discovered that the man had lived in Stearra all his life, but was now a lonesome old widower, all his family and friends gone on before him or moved away. Here was a good chance, Hanlon thought, both to be nice to an oldster and to get some more general and perhaps specific information.

"Will you do me the honor to have a drink with me, nyer?" he asked courteously the first time the old chap gave him an opening. "There is a very nice place where men drink close by."

"That's mighty kind of you, yunner, mighty kind. Don't many people act that way to me any more. But there was a time ..." his voice trailed off, but Hanlon read in his thoughts of the days when the fellow was an important and popular man in this city.

As they walked along the street to the drinking place, Hanlon listened with half an ear to the old fellow's chatter, while he was thinking swiftly. It had not taken him long to learn that in this secret service business he had to take information wherever, and from whomever, it was to be gained. And this old geezer ought to be quite a mine of gossip. Hanlon hoped he could steer it into channels of real information.

Once seated at a small table, and their glasses of mykkyl before them, Hanlon broke into the monologue to say engagingly, "I've been in Stearra such a short time, nyer, that I don't know much about it. And since I intend to make it my home from now on, I want to know all I can about things and people here."

"Heh, heh, you came to the right place for that, yunner. Where you from?"

"I was born in Lura, over on the Eastern Continent. But I found there was not much chance for a young fellow to make his fortune over there--everything is owned by a few rich people who keep all the businesses in their own families. So I came here."

"Yes, you did right. There are plenty of chances for bright young fellows to make fortunes here in Stearra. Hey ah, I remember well ..." and the old fellow started in on what Hanlon knew would be a long, uninteresting resume of his past life. So he interrupted with a question, or rather, a request.

"Please tell me who are the most important people here, and what you know about them."

For nearly an hour he kept the old fellow on this topic, in spite of the innumerable lapses when the man started wandering in his reminiscences.

Once, when Hanlon had ventured to ask directly about Yandor, he learned a very interesting fact that he gave considerable thought to when he was back in his own room. This was the fact that the impresario was crazy about animal pets.

"He has what almost amounts to a menagerie at his home," the old fellow cackled. "Always on the lookout for new and unusual types and kinds. Why, they say he even has cages outdoors, containing lots of wild animals--even has them brought to him from the East Continent and the polar regions."

Hanlon remembered now, that when he first went to Yandor's house he had seemed to sense many animal minds near him, but had not taken the time to investigate. Also, that the roch had shown him quite an unusual number of pets about the house.

So, after Hanlon had bid the old man good night, the young S S man settled himself in his most comfortable seat to consider this angle, as well as the other things he had learned that night.

Actually, while great in quantity they had been meager in quality, telling him little that he desired to know. The oldster had not known anything about any organized opposition to Estrella's joining the Federation nor, more particularly, who was behind it. Oh, he could repeat glibly much of the propaganda that was making the rounds, and which Hanlon already knew. How, if Estrella joined the Terran planets it would lose its own planetary sovereignty, and become merely a minor cog in the great schemes of the people led by Terra, who were out to grab the whole galaxy for their own ends of power and greed. That Estrella's people would have to conform to human standards rather than their own, and that their splendid Estrellan culture would soon be entirely lost. That they would end up by being little more than slaves.

"Why," he cried with genuine dismay and anger at one point, "it is those Terrans who are doing all the criminal things that have been making life here so dangerous recently--all those robberies, fires, murders, and so on, that our people would never even dream of doing."

"Where'd you hear that?" Hanlon queried sharply, aghast that his surmise should thus quickly prove correct.

"Why, everyone knows that; everyone's talking about it," there was surprise at his question. "You mean you didn't know it?

"But it's true. That's the sort Terrans are. They don't even consider us real people," he added indignantly, almost crying in his drink. "They actually think we are inferior to them--that we are just semi-intelligent animals. Hey ah, how stupid can they get? They should know we Estrellans are the highest form of life in the whole universe!"

Hanlon knew this vicious propaganda was false, of course. He wanted to tell the oldster about how they actually worked with the primitive but intelligent races of other planets--what he, himself, had helped plan for the Guddus. But, of course, he could not.

He could have told this old man that while the Corps and the Federation statesmen recognized that the Estrellans were not as far advanced in some sciences and technologies as were the Terrans and their colonists on other worlds, they did respect these people as possessors of excellent minds and abilities. That they readily acknowledged that the Estrellans were far ahead of them in ethics and in ways of living together peacefully.

He could have added that these statesmen knew, and stated, that if the Estrellans wanted to learn the sciences and techniques the Federationists possessed, they could assimilate that knowledge in a very short time. But, also, that the Federation would never try to _force_ their knowledge or culture on the Estrellans or any other peoples. That they never tried to make any of the less-educated or less-advanced beings of other worlds conform to any mold those people, themselves, did not desire and specifically request be taught them.

But at the moment this other thought interested Hanlon more than a political review. So Yandor liked pets, did he? Well, how better get in his good graces than give him one never seen on Estrella before? Hanlon would get him a brand new animal, one far different from those on this planet, where all the native animals were tailless.

Yes, and it would be one with a brain that could give Hanlon a real chance to see and hear what was going on in the man's private life when Hanlon could not be near him.

"Let's see now, when's that sneakboat due ... hey, it's tomorrow night. That's great. I'll be there to meet it."

Chapter 6

_It was nearing dawn on the eastern Continent of Estrella, and high above in the stratosphere, in its spaceship, the strange being that had been studying this planet so carefully, suddenly stiffened to closer attention. Its mind had just contacted a group of beings below whose minds were of a far different texture--finer, somehow--than those of the natives of this world. The language was different, too, which did not make so much difference. But the thought-processes of these newcomers, in many cases, were almost incomprehensible to the alien._

_What were they? Was there more than one race here on this planet, after all? The being activated its multiphased scanners, and studied and pondered._

* * * * *

SSM George Hanlon was waiting in the shadows of the great forest enclosing the hidden clearing when the spacer came in. When it had landed, the lock-door opened. Hanlon ran over and, after giving the correct password, was helped inside the ship.

"Hi, fellows," he greeted the two secret servicemen who were assigned as crew of this ship, and went with them into the control room. "How's everything in the great big universe outside of this dump?"

"Not bad," they grinned. "Nothing special going on. Mars just won the interplanet baseball championship...."

"... and there's a new singer on stereo that's a doll, boy, a doll...."

"... We saw Hoop and Manny at our stop on the other side, and they said the admiral was coming here. We got some letters for him, but you'd better take 'em in case he doesn't show before we have to leave."

"Oke, will do. Hey, you fellows got any candy bars? Can't get sweets here, and I'm sugar starved."

"Sure, plenty." And while one of the men went to the storeroom, the other asked Hanlon if he would like a cup of coffee.

"Gee, I sure would. That's another thing these folks don't have. That herb tea of theirs ... ugh!"

The first returned with a dozen candy bars that Hanlon stuffed in his pocket, and continued drinking his coffee.

"Oh, yes, better give me some Estrellan money. I've had to spend quite a bit recently. About five hundred credit's worth should be enough." They gave him that from a supply in a drawer.

"Now for the most important thing," Hanlon said. "Next trip I want you to bring me a cat--a nice black...."

"A cat?" It was a duet of surprise.

"Yeh, a nice, tame, house-broken Earth cat. All black, or maybe with a white star in its forehead. About a year old, and quite large. Be sure it has nice, sleek fur."

"Can do, all right," doubtfully, "but for John's sake, why?"

"One of the men I'm working on here loves pets and collects all the different kinds he can get. So I want to give him something he doesn't have. All the animals here are tailless, so get me one with a really nice, long, well-furred tail. A thorough-bred, not an alley-cat. I figure it will help me get in good with him."

"Right." One of them made a note. "Anything else?"

"Not a thing, thanks. 'Specially for the coffee and candy. Wonder when da ... the admiral will get here?" He hoped they had not noticed that near-slip, for it had been decided the relationship should not be generally told, and so far only a few S S men and high officials knew of it.

"Haven't the faintest."

"Then I guess I'll stick around awhile and see, if you don't mind."

"Glad to have you aboard, mister. We have to stay here several hours anyway, and we like company. Getting sick of old Tom's ugly face anyway," one of them quipped.

"Yeh, I 'spose you think you're a beauty queen."

"You play poker?"

"Lead me to it."

Though Hanlon carefully avoided using his special mental abilities, when Admiral Newton came aboard an hour or so later, the young Corpsman was a few credits ahead. The cards had just fallen right for him.

After the two secret servicemen had left the cruiser and it had blasted off, they started back toward town. Hanlon had very much wanted to see his father, for he had been vaguely disturbed and dissatisfied with his rate of progress. True, he was making a good start at getting where he wanted to go, but it seemed to him he was taking far too much time for what little he had accomplished. He said as much to his father.

"Well, I don't know," the admiral said thoughtfully, as they rode along the flowertree-shaded but dusty road. "These things take time, and it seems to me you haven't done so badly, considering the short time you've been here."

"Thanks for being generous, but I seem to be taking so long for next to nothing."

"What do you plan to do now?" Newton asked, and Hanlon explained more in detail what he was after.

"What makes you so sure this fellow Yandor leads to the higher ups?" the admiral asked slowly at last.

"All the clues I've managed to pick up so far point to him as a key figure," Hanlon said earnestly. "I've read in a number of minds facts--or snatches--that point to him as one of the leaders, despite his reputable position as the leading theatrical entrepreneur...."

"Or because of it," his father interjected.

"Yes, perhaps because of it. When Auldin introduced us and I hinted at my knowledge of his 'other activities'--and when I've mentioned them since--Yandor didn't react as I'm sure he would if he wasn't engaged in something off-color."

"Hmmm, it all sounds reasonable. And as far as the time it is taking you is concerned, you needn't worry yet. It always takes time to open up a line of investigation. You took three months or more off to go to Algon, remember, but you got the answers finally."

They had arrived at the house where Hanlon lived so they parked their trikes in the back yard, and went up to his room.

"Yes, what you say is true," Hanlon seemed more relieved now. "What have you and the others found out?"

His father's short laugh was not a pleased one. "Hardly a thing worth mentioning. We don't even have any leads that may be successful, as you have. Manning has been working as a clerk in a government office, but can't find a thing. Hooper is in Lumina, the secondary capital where the study and suggestion body holds forth...."

Hanlon's mind remembered from the reels that this body was not exactly a legislature or congress, since it had no power to make laws. It studied all questions and problems that came up, and reported or made suggestions to the Ruler, who had the final say. It was something fairly recent, introduced by Elus Amir.

"... and managed to get a job on an Estrellan equivalent of a newspaper there. But he hasn't found a thing, either, except that he's been in a position to learn where the propaganda is strongest, and is keeping charts and graphs, with dates and percentages, of its spread. But so far they haven't shown anything conclusive, except that the rumors are spreading rapidly, and that lately they have included the whispers that Terrans are back of the crime wave."

"Yeh, I've heard that. Obviously a 'whisper campaign' started by the real conspirators. But what're you doing, dad?"

"Mostly I'm just traveling here and there, keeping as quiet and undercover as possible, trying to find out what people all over the planet are really thinking. The percentage who believe the propaganda seems very small, but is growing. About the only thing I've found out at all curious or extraordinary is that Adwal Irad, the Second-In-Line seems to have a much greater than ordinary place in the counsel and affections of Amir, the Ruler."

Hanlon laughed. "That 'Second-In-Line' business is screwy, isn't it?"

The admiral sat back in his chair, lighted a cigarro, and grew thoughtful. "Yes, from our standpoint it is most peculiar, and one of the things that make it so hard for us to understand the Estrellans at all well. How it is done I haven't been able to find out, but the men of the ruling class are specially bred--reminds me of the way queen bees are developed. They are larger physically, less hairy, and far more brainy than the average males here. However, it seems to sap their strength to handle the job, for while the new ruler takes over at the age of thirty, at the end of his fifteen-year term of office he is an old man--yet the average Estrellan life-expectancy is ninety." He shook his head.

"Sure is alien all right," the younger S S man furrowed his brow in concentration. "Never heard of anything like it before." He was silent a moment, then looked up. "But what about Irad that's different--I should think the rulers would want their successors to learn as much as possible about the job before they took over."

"I gather they do, but usually in a perfunctory sort of way. However, ever since he came back to Estrella--Irad was one of the natives who went on that personally-conducted tour of the Federation--he has been with the ruler almost every day. It is said the old man treats him more like a son than a successor; they seem, from reports, to be closer even than Amir and his own son."

"Aren't the two related?"

"Not that closely. I believe Irad is a sort of second-cousin's son. There's an examination among each generation of ruler-possibilities, and the high man is designated 'Second-In-Line', and so on down."

"What d'you 'spose it all means?"

"Have no data yet. It could be something--or nothing."

"I'll keep Irad in mind, then, and watch for a place to fit him in. Oh, by the way, how long before he takes over?"

"About two years, I think. Why?"

"Just thought that might be important. I'll hunt around and find out." Hanlon paused a moment, then continued slowly, "but the more you tell me of what you and the boys have _not_ found out, the more certain I am that my way is best--for me, at least--and that I can get some dope through the gangs here."

"I'm willing to buy that now. I'll grant that whoever is back of all this opposition may be, and probably is, using the criminals, and you may get the first leads, at that. In fact, you already have more than we have. But I think we'll find--if we ever learn--that someone far above their level is the prime operator."

"You think there's a possibility it might be some alien--like Bohr was on Simonides?"

His father sat upright and looked at him penetratingly. "I hadn't thought of that." Then he slumped down again. "But I wouldn't say so. It would really be stretching coincidence 'way out of shape for it to be the same sort of set-up you found there. You haven't found anything to make you think that, have you?"

"No, I don't really suspect anything of the sort--just can't forget how surprised we were back there when we found out about Bohr."

"Well, we'll just have to keep on plugging. The campaign is so obvious--so open with all its use of pamphlets, spreaders of rumor, and the same arguments everywhere ... it seems we certainly ought to find some leads somewhere. But ..." he shrugged helplessly.

"There's certainly a clever propagandist in the background somewhere. And he sure keeps well hidden."

The elder made a pained grimace. "You can say that again."

"Say, I've got an idea. How about having Hooper or Manning, or bring in still another SS man, to come here and let me brief him on what I've found out about two or three other natives who seem to be up in the gang world? I've got leads on some others who are apparently lesser gang bosses, but I haven't time to follow them up and keep on with my other lines of investigation, even though I think they're important enough to study. Having someone else here to work on them would get rid of a lot of the criminal activity, I'm sure, and would leave me more free to work on Yandor and his superiors. This Yandor is fond of pets, and the sneakboat's bringing me a cat next trip, and through its mind and eyes and ears I can watch him when he's at home, and so on."

His father stared at him in surprise. "A cat...?" Then he shook his head with a helpless movement, but grinned feebly. "You continually amaze me, Spence. I hope it works out."

"Oh, I'm sure it will. Yandor makes a hobby of animals, and anything as strange and wonderful--to Estrellans--as a tailed cat he'll undoubtedly keep with him most of the time. Especially after I impress on tabby's mind that it is to love Yandor wholeheartedly, and be very distressed when away from him." He grinned wolfishly.

"Sounds good if you can work it, and I am sure _you_ can. As to the other...." He thought in silence for several minutes, then, "I'll have Manning come here and go to work with you. Being a government clerk, he could pretend he wants to get into local politics, and it'll all seem natural to the natives."

"Fine. One of the locals I suspect is a sort of political boss. I'll brief Morrie on all I know, and suggest some things he can look into to start with."

"And Hooper and I will check more closely into the gangs over on the Eastern Continent," the admiral said. Then he leaned forward earnestly. "We've got to solve this. At first it was merely asking a new world with a high civilization to join us for mutual benefits. But now that this opposition has grown so strong, if we fail here we'll have that much more trouble with other non-Terran worlds we discover. You know Colonial has dozens of survey ships out all the time, and since they cracked that new-type drive of Bohr's, and increased our speed nearly 300%, those exploring trips go both farther and faster."

"We'll get 'em, dad," and Hanlon got up as his father rose.

Admiral Newton was still not too optimistic. "I certainly hope so. Well, keep trying, son, and don't get into any more trouble than's necessary."

"I won't, dad. Safe flights," and the admiral left.

After his father had gone, Hanlon sat thinking seriously, and trying to make plans. The roches, which he had kept asleep while he and his father were talking, he awakened and fed, then romped with them for a time.

But Hanlon was not really in the mood for play, even though he had come to feel a great affection for these fine animals, and they for him. He had too much on his mind for such recreation just now.

One thing, he suddenly realized--the roches had brought it to his mind--he had been forgetting. That was the series of burnings and wreckings that Auldin and his men were continuing nightly. Despite his notes to the local peace-keepers, Hanlon knew they had done nothing to stop these depredations, and it made him angry.

"What sort of dopes are those peacers, anyway?" he growled to himself. "Are they in on all this, too? They must be. And yet, I must remember they've never run up against anything like this before and probably haven't sense enough to figure out what to do. So, it's time I did something about it. But how? Should I try the same thing, or something else?"

He slept most of the day, making up for his wakefulness of the previous night. When he awoke he considered his problem. Due to the fact that he would probably be working his roches in public in a few days, and in a way he believed Estrellans had never seen them drilled or trained before, he was afraid that if he sent another note by means of a roch, as he had done before, someone in authority might be clever enough to put two and two together and not get five. So he decided to use an ordinary messenger.

After dinner Hanlon went again to the little cafe that Auldin and his men patronized, but this time he did not go in. Having been in touch with Auldin's mind so many times, he now knew its texture and individual characteristics well. So when the mobster and his men went into the cafe, Hanlon not only knew it but had no trouble "hearing" Auldin give his crew their assignments for that night's dirty work.

He had again prepared a note for the peace officers, and now he added the new addresses to it. Then he went down the street until he found an Estrellan boy, to whom he gave the note, directions and a coin. The boy ran to the peace station and gave the paper to the official there.

"We are giving you one last chance to serve the taxpayers and citizens who support you," the note said. "You paid no attention to the previous warnings, but we are giving you the benefit of the doubt. We believe you simply did not know how to handle such a situation. It is simple--send a number of men to each of the places listed below, and have them hide and watch. Then, when they see the criminals come to start their nefarious work, have them run out and arrest the men, and bring them back to your station. There they can be held for trial, by the Ruler or someone he appoints. Now get busy, or else...."

"Where did you get this?" the official asked the boy after reading the note.

"Some man gave it to me on the street, and gave me a silver penta to bring it to you," the youth answered, then ran out before he could be questioned further.

Three of the gangsters were arrested that night, but somehow--either through his own shrewdness or through someone's blundering--Auldin escaped.

* * * * *

_In the spaceship the strange being knew a feeling of profound disquiet. It had followed the two of those strange minds that flew the space-cruiser to its second landing place on this world. It had known when these beings met one and then another additional one of these unknowns who were not like the natives of this world. From the fact that the first two came in a spaceship--which these natives did not possess--the deduction was simple that they were all from some other and unknown--to it--planetary system._

_But one of these newest minds could not be touched at all! The scanning intellect knew only that such a mentality was there because the first two (and later, a third) were so evidently holding a long conversation with someone ... and in its multiphased scanner the being could see that that someone was apparently an Estrellan native._

_Why, then, could not its mind be touched?_

_In its scanner the two were followed as they returned to the city and to a dwelling place, and one side of their conversation was "listened to." They were clearly, the mind was forced to conclude, a menace to its carefully-laid plans._

_But why could that one mind not be read?_

Chapter 7

In the morning, although still fuming about Auldin's escape, Hanlon had to put it out of his mind as he prepared for the try-out of his act before Yandor.

The new and gaudy uniforms had been delivered and the roches had grown used to wearing them. Now Hanlon dressed himself and the animals and left the house. They marched down the street toward the downtown section where Yandor's office was located.

Naturally, the procession attracted considerable attention, for Hanlon made the roches follow him sometimes in single file, then close up to double file. They always kept evenly spaced, all in perfectly cadenced step. He, himself, strutted in a sort of drum-major's fashion, for he considered all this excellent advertising.

"Wish I had a brass band," he grinned to himself. "Then these folks would really wake up."

By the time he reached the more densely-peopled business section, a large crowd was watching him and his unusually-trained and dressed dogs, and comments were lively and pleasantly surprised. As on Terra--or any other planet, for that matter--this parade attracted an ever-growing crowd of excited children, who tagged along with laughter and shouts of joy.

Into Yandor's office Hanlon and his roches marched, and at his brisk command they lined up before the startled entrepreneur's table-desk in a double rank of four. "Salute," Hanlon said, and the dogs stood on their hind legs simultaneously, and raised their right forepaws in salute.

"Well now," Yandor gasped, "what have we here?"

But Hanlon, without answering, turned to his roches. "Attention." The roches dropped to all fours, and aligned themselves. In rapid order Hanlon made them do columns right and left, right and left turns, left and right by twos and fours, right and left obliques, and finally right into company front. Then, "Company, halt. Parade, rest."

The roches, who had obeyed every order with precision and unanimity, sank to their haunches and crossed their front feet.

The impresario had stood watching with open mouth and bugging eyes during this miracle of training. Now he rushed up and seized both Hanlon's hands.

"Well now, that's wonderful. Perfect. I've never seen anything like it. Marvelous. Can they do anything else, too?"

"Certainly," and Hanlon explained rapidly the various other things he had trained his roches, individually and as a group, to do.

"Well now, we certainly can use this. The people have never seen anything like it. They'll be enraptured. Let's talk terms."

Hanlon faced the roches, who had not moved. "At rest." They relaxed and lay down, although still keeping their places. Most of them hung out their tongues and panted in the manner of dog-like animals everywhere. Nor did they move from their places during the half hour or so Hanlon and Yandor were talking business.

All during that discussion Hanlon carefully watched the mind of the man before him, paying more attention to any stray and extraneous thoughts than he did to their talk about bookings--which actually did not especially interest him. For he had begun to find that in those side thoughts of the natives during a conversation usually lay his greatest mine of information.

Hanlon was becoming more and more certain that this man Yandor had much on his mind besides the entertainment business that was his front. He was not able--yet--to get any direct clues as to who Yandor's superior or superiors might be, but he did glean enough to make him certain there were such higher-ups.

Just as they were closing their interview Hanlon said, "I understand, nyer, that you have quite a collection of rare animals."

"Well now, that's right. I do have quite a number, and am always looking for new and unusual ones."

"Do you happen to have a Terran _cat_ among them?"

"A cat? What is that? I never heard of such an animal."

"Oh, but you must have one of those. They are not only the finest pets anyone could possibly have, but they have long, furry tails."

A gleam of interested desire came into Yandor's eyes. "I've heard of animals with tails, on other planets, but I've never even seen one. Well now, such a thing would be most wonderful--a magnificent addition to my collection. But how can I get one?"

"If you'll permit me the pleasure, nyer, I can get one for you. I know a certain man on the Eastern Continent who obtained a pair when he was on that trip to the Terran planets. Lately they have had a litter of kittens, as the young are called. I am sure I can buy one or ... or ... well, I'll get you one," he grinned.

"Oh, I would so like to have one--though I hesitate to let you take such risks. But from you, my friend, I'll accept it. Well, yes, I'll gladly accept it from you. When can I have it?"

"It may take some days, but have it you shall. I'll bring it as soon as I can. Meanwhile, where and when do you want me to perform first?"

"Well now, let me think. The National Theatre would be best, I think. Yes, it is the finest and largest here in the capital, and I'll make a special presentation of your opening. I'll invite all the finest people, including our glorious Ruler and his staff. Yes, three days should be sufficient to arrange it all, if the Ruler is free that evening. Where do you live? I'll send you word."

The next three days were extremely busy ones for Hanlon--and he had little time for spying on the mind of Yandor, save when he saw him briefly. Feeling in a way that he was being derelict in his duty, Hanlon nevertheless decided that to gain the best results later he would have to concentrate for the time being on getting ready for his debut. So much depended on that being a success.

He had attended the so-called theatrical performances--more like variety acts or what he had read that the old-time vaudeville shows were like--since he had decided to make his bid for contact with Yandor by this means. Now he went to the "place of performances" to study the layout more carefully and minutely.

It was nothing like the various types of theatres he had known so well on Terra. For one thing, it was not in a building at all, but merely a specially-prepared plot of ground, surrounded by a high stone wall. Naturally, being Estrellan, it was five-sided.

Inside the wall the hard-packed and smoothed ground sloped gently downward from all sides toward a level, tile-floored, foot-high place in the center that was the stage. The customers stood during the performance, although Hanlon had never been able to understand why.

"Sure seems as though it would be easy, and not too expensive, to at least give them benches of some sort to sit on," he thought.

Near one corner of the stage was the entrance to a flight of stone steps that led downward into the dressing rooms and property-storage for the theatre. When it was their turn, the actors had to come up these steps and so onto the stage to begin their turn, without benefit of curtain. Also, because of the peculiar construction it was impossible to use "backdrops" or "sets" as Hanlon knew them.

The morning Hanlon went to investigate the place there was no one around, so he was not stopped nor disturbed while he made a complete tour of the underground rooms, and stepped off the measurements of the stage. One great lack amused him.

"What?" he chuckled, "no popcorn or soft drink dispenser robots?"

He had noticed when attending previous performances, that they used no type of footlights or other illumination whatever, and that it was hard for those in the back of the enclosure to see what was going on down in the center. By judicious inquiry he found that on the nights when it stormed or was cloudy, or when Estrella's two moons were not in the sky, there was no performance.

Following his inspection of the theatre, Hanlon went to the market place again. He hunted out a stall where lamps were sold, and after the usual considerable haggling and dickering, bought twenty of the most powerful of the peculiar carbide lamps at a fairly reasonable price. Then he hunted up a metal-worker, and had reflectors made to his order and specifications, and fitted to one side of the lamps.

"I'll introduce 'em to something new," he grinned, then was suddenly worried. "Or are such new customs and innovations taboo on this screwy world?"

Another thought occurred to him the second day, and he hunted around for some time until he found a place where masks were made. The customer, who specialized in things for actors, did not have what Hanlon wanted, but after it had been described, the merchant said it would not be hard to make, and that it could be delivered the next afternoon. So Hanlon ordered a face-mask for himself, that would look like the head of a roch.

Meantime, he continued working with the animals whenever he had time. He was now well satisfied with his ability to control them under all circumstances. He felt sure he would have no trouble in "putting on a good act", and his only worry was whether or not he could please these strange people. For so much depended upon his making good--if he did, he would be more solidly in the good graces of the impresario, Yandor. And that was the main thing he was after right now.

The night of Hanlon's first performance finally arrived--and so did a nice large attack of stage-fright. There were "butterflies in his stomach", and he was by turns wet with sweat and almost petrified. Peeking out from the top of the stairs leading to the dressing rooms, the sight gave Hanlon a prime case of the jitters. For it seemed all the high officials, business and professional men, and the "social group" of Stearra, with their wives and families, were there. Even the Ruler was seated at stage-side in a large, ornate throne-chair, having been persuaded by Yandor that he would see something most exceptional.

Hanlon went slowly down into the cubicle assigned him and the roches, and there fought for calmness. And it was a measure of his innate strength of character that he succeeded. The jitters passed, the butterflies went into hibernation, and his nerves calmed down.

The first acts were the usual type seen on Estrellan stages--singers, posturers (they did not seem to have any dancers in the sense that Terran theatres do), and acrobats. Hanlon had always been interested in these, for almost none of the things they did were like what he was used to seeing or hearing.

The music, however, he could not get used to. Estrellan music was based on a five-toned scale, of course, and was--to his ears--more of a cacophony than Chinese music. Yet the Estrellan singers had clear, beautiful, flutelike voices.

The footlights that Hanlon had finally persuaded Yandor to have set in place around the edge of the stage, and lighted, occasioned great comment at first. But once the performance started, and the people found how much better they could see, were acclaimed as a great achievement.

"How did you ever happen to think of them?" Yandor had asked when Hanlon first spoke of them and showed the impresario what he had made.

Hanlon shrugged. "I always feel cheated because I can't see better when I go to a performance," he said. "When I got to thinking of my act, I knew it wouldn't show up well if people couldn't see clearly exactly what my roches were doing. So I figured out these lights. Don't you like the idea?"

"Well now, yes, I like them. But I don't know. People are peculiar about change. They may do something about it if they don't approve of them."

"Well," Hanlon made a nonchalant gesture, "we can always turn 'em off if they yell."

But after the first few moments, when the customers had seen how much better they could watch the posturer who came on first, the value of the footlights was clearly seen, and they gave their whole-hearted approval. A new custom was born on Estrella.

Hanlon had been below in the cubicle assigned him and his roches, so had not seen nor heard the crowd's reactions to the acts that preceded him. When it came his turn to go on, he was glad to find that his nervousness was gone, and that he was perfectly calm.

Yandor stopped him near the head of the stairway leading up from underground, while the native who was manager and a sort of master or announcer of acts, made a brief speech.

"Nyers and nyas and you, most gracious k'nyer," he addressed the throng and the Ruler, "tonight you are to see something most unusual in trained animals. I have been connected with performances for many, many years, but never have I seen anything to equal this. I will not attempt to tell you what is coming--you must see and marvel and judge for yourselves. Next on our program is Gor Anlo and his Friends."

Hanlon came up the stairway and onto the stage, followed in single line by his eight roches. There was a titter of laughter at first sight of Hanlon in the roch-mask and the dogs in their gaudy uniforms, but this soon quieted in amazed surprise at the exhibition they were witnessing.

Across the entire stage-place the roches marched, while Hanlon took his place in the center. He did not utter aloud a single word of command as the eight roches marched about the platform and stopped in a circle facing the audience on all sides, all the dogs equidistant from the others. As one they rose on their hind legs, and their forepaws bent to their heads in a salute.

A moment they held this, then still without a spoken word of command, dropped to all fours and in rapid succession formed and marched in company front and lines of two and four, made left and right turns, marched across the stage in oblique lines, did about face and to the rear, and all the complicated maneuvers the Ruler's residence guards did on the parade ground.

Then they added some things Hanlon had never seen Estrellan guards do, but which were more or less common to Terran drill teams. They did full wheels in lines of eight and four, formed wheeling stars and circles.

Never once did Hanlon utter a word of command that anyone could hear; never once did the roches falter or break that perfectly-cadenced step; never once was one of them out of line. There was never any hesitation, never any breaking of ranks even when, about half-way through their drill they changed to quick time--almost double the cadence in which they had first drilled.

How could any of that great, stunned audience guess that the trainer was actually controlling each animal mind, that his own mind was divided and parts of it superimposed on each animal brain, so that it was impossible for them to act counter to his central--yet individual--command?

All the audience could see was the most perfect, the most incredibly flawless precision of training they had ever witnessed. Led by the Ruler they began a rhythmic chant of "Yi, yi, yi, yi," in cadence with the roch's marching tempo. The chant grew louder by the moment until it was a deafening roar.

At their first sounds Hanlon almost lost his poise--for he did not know that this was their method of giving highest applause--and that very few acts ever received it at all. He had never heard it when he had attended their performances before. To him, now, it sounded more like they were giving him earthly "boos", and he was afraid he had somehow offended them.

He withdrew part of his mind from each of the roches, even as they were marching across the stage, and sent it out to contact the mind of the Ruler and several others. He was pleasantly surprised at what he read there, for it was not dissatisfaction, but a combined wonder and delight at what they were seeing.

Quickly he again sent full measure of his mind into each of his roches to continue the drill--nor had anyone noticed any break in their routine during the second or so of this mind-searching.

Finally, after a full five minutes of this, Hanlon silently commanded each one, in unison, "Company, halt. Right, dress. Parade, rest. Salute."

He himself came to a stiff salute, his directed at the Ruler. Higher and still louder grew the chanted roar. Even the Ruler sprang to his feet, his sounds of approval nearly as loud and unrestrained as the rest.

When the noise subsided a bit, Hanlon gave the roches "At rest," and they relaxed, lay down, and panted ... but each still in his place.

Hanlon stepped forward and facing first one way and then the other said, "Thank you for your kind reception of our poor efforts. Now, with your permission, I would like to show you some of the individual abilities of my little friends."

But while he was speaking four of the animals had gone off to the side near the entrance to the stairway. Hanlon had fixed up a specially prepared chair. To the bottoms of each of the legs he had affixed light wooden rods that extended out several inches. Now the four roches each picked up a rod in its teeth and thus lifted the stool, which they brought out and set before Hanlon. He looked down at them in pretended surprise, then out at his audience, and smiled. "My friends are so thoughtful. They must think I am tired and need a rest. Well, far be it from me to disappoint them." And he sat down, while the roches went back to their places and lay down.

Instantly there was a loud, angry hissing from the audience. There was no mistaking this--it was censure, not praise. Hanlon was dumb-founded. What had he done wrong?

Quickly he scanned a number of minds, and found he had broken one of their most sacred taboos. Nobody--but _nobody_--ever sat in the presence of their beloved Ruler without his express invitation.

"Oops, tilted!" Hanlon groaned, quickly rising and shoving the offending stool off the edge of the stage. But the audience was not mollified. If anything, their clamor rose louder.

It was the Ruler, himself, who quieted them. He rose and held up his hand in a gesture of silence, smiling forgivingly.

"Boy, what a swell egg he is," Hanlon mentally wiped the sweat from his mind's brow. "I still don't understand these folks. I'll have to watch myself more carefully, all the time."

He bowed his thanks to the Ruler, spreading his hands in a gesture of apology. Then he quickly made the roches begin their other tricks. He had one do some acrobatics, in imitation of the type their native acrobats did. Two of the others "danced" together. Another balanced himself and rolled about the stage on a large plastic ball Hanlon had secured. Three of them did intricate circlings about each other, without ever getting in each other's way or breaking step at any time. Another stood on its hind legs and "sang" in imitation of the singers. Another "walked" on its front legs. These, being more to the liking of his audience, yet something they had never seen animals do, or so well, soon recaptured their interest. After a bit they began again that "Yi, yi" of applause. By the time Hanlon's turn was over the people seemed to have forgotten his one blooper, and were solidly "with him." As he left the stage and went below with his roches, their yells were the loudest yet.

Ino Yandor was wildly enthusiastic, and those who had seen the first night's performance spread the word. In days the fame of Hanlon and his roches had spanned the continent, and other cities were clamoring to see his act, while the National Theatre there in Stearra was packed nightly with capacity crowds.

During those days Hanlon spent as much of his time as he could wandering about the city, the marketplace, the recreation parks, and sitting in various places where people ate or drank. With his mind he was hunting not only for whatever points of specific information he might glean, but also to get a more general and better "feel" of the people and conditions here.

He was confirmed in his early beliefs that as a whole these were wonderful people; that they would make excellent citizens of the Federation. They had such a high sense of social justice; such deep feelings of right and wrong; such splendid habits of co-operative living. More even than the Terrans and the colonists, who had come far along the road of brotherliness in the past centuries, these Estrellans had an innate belief in the brotherhood of man.

What a great gap there was between the great mass of Estrellans and those few criminals with whom he was working? He remembered one time when he had been talking with his father about the way he worked.

"You want to be mighty careful," Admiral Newton warned. "Being around gangsters and criminals so much, you'll have to watch not to begin thinking like they do."

"You never need worry about that, dad," Hanlon had been very earnest. "The more I see of 'em, the less I like 'em, and the more I'm sure the common decencies of life are best. We must have law, government and order, and all decent citizens must always 'live and let live'. I could never be contented otherwise."

Chapter 8

The night the sneak boat was due to return, Hanlon early sent word to Yandor that he was ill, and could not perform that night. The entrepreneur came, boiling over with anger, to Hanlon's rooms.

"Well now," he began, "what's all this about...?"

"Ooh, quiet, please," Hanlon moaned. He had been ready for just some such thing, and was lying in bed, face contorted with pain, and now pressed his hands to his ears as though Yandor's loud voice was more than he could stand. "Can't you see I'm sick? Why must you make so much noise?"

The agent was taken aback by this counterthrust. He calmed a bit then, but asked many questions. Hanlon's partial answers and evident pain finally convinced the impresario that his star performer was, indeed, too ill to appear.

"These attacks come only once or twice a year, and usually last only a day or two," Hanlon assured him in a weak voice. "I'll try my best to be on hand tomorrow."

"Very well, I'll expect you then. Well now, there is something I've been meaning to talk to you about, and now is a good time. I want you to work into your act various things to say against the Terrans; about how such wonderful performances as yours would be impossible if we were to submit to them and accept their so-called invitation to join their Federation. Suggest to the audience that we would all become slaves, and that neither would performers have time to prepare their acts, nor would the others be allowed to come and watch them."

Hanlon was slightly prepared for this because he had seen it forming in Yandor's mind, but he did not like it any the better. He was just about to make an angry retort when he took himself in hand, and continued keeping in the character he had assumed. He groaned a bit louder, and twisted more violently on the bed.

"Please, nyer, leave me now. I hate for anyone to see me while I'm like this. As for what you've just said, we'll talk about it later and see what can be worked out."

And, reluctantly, it seemed, Yandor finally left.

When night at last brought its cloak of darkness, Hanlon put the roches to sleep and slipped quietly from his room. Down in the back, though, he could not seem to get his tricky acetylene-powered engine to start. He fussed and tinkered for nearly two hours before he could finally get it going.

"So help me, I'm never going to cuss out a real ground-car after this because it acts up occasionally," he said as he rode out of the yard and down the dusty street. He drove as fast as he could out to the clearing where the sneakboat had already landed.

"Sorry to be late, fellows," he said as soon as he had given the password and been allowed aboard. He accepted gratefully the cup of coffee they gave him, and griped for five solid minutes about those gosh-awful excuses for transportation these so-and-so natives used.

"Here, have a box of candy bars, and quit belly-aching," one of them said at last. The other held out another gift, a pound can of pulverized instant coffee.

"Hey, these are wonderful," Hanlon's spirits rose as if by magic. "You guys are my friends for life."

"Why, Georgie," one of them simpered. "I didn't know you cared."

"You'll have to choose between us, though," the other said owlishly. "I'm not going to be a partner to bigamy."

Then they both laughed. "Look, he's blushing."

"Aw, I am not," Hanlon spluttered. "It's just this pink skin-dye," he added weakly.

"Anyway, here's your cat," the S S men got down to business, and fetched the crate containing the beautiful animal. "We happened to remember hearing that these people don't have milk, so we got you one that's accustomed to a meat and vegetable diet."

"Gee, thanks for that. I'd completely forgotten that point."

Hanlon examined the big, black cat, and his mind reached out and quieted its fright at the strange surroundings and this hairy being who was now handling it.

He talked with the men for some further time, told them he had not yet got any sure clues, but was beginning to get an "in" with some people he felt sure would lead him to some. They told him the other three men had reported about the same, although Hooper said the curve was rising steadily on the belief that Terrans were behind the crime wave here.

"Yeh, I've heard that bilge, too. It's just another of the things we'll have to stamp out before we can win out here. But we will."

"Sure you will," the two agreed. "Anything else you need?"

"No, can't think of a thing. The cat was the most important for now. It will really get me in more solid with Yandor, the guy I'm working on."

"Hope so, Han. Well, cheerio."

"Safe flights, you guys, and thanks again."

On the ride back he was glad he had a tricycle instead of a two-wheeled bike, for the crate was heavy and rather awkward with the cat in it, shifting its weight about from time to time.

Back in his room once more, Hanlon released the animal, which immediately dived under the bed, where it cowered in fright, having seen and smelled the roches who were sleeping in various places about the rooms.

But again Hanlon reached out and touched its mind, calmed its fear, and soon had it out of hiding and creeping into his arms. It lay there, purring, while he stroked it and impressed on its mind--whose texture he learned while doing this--that it was safe and with friends.

After he had done that, he woke the roches. At first sight of the feline a couple of them started toward it in curiosity. Swiftly Hanlon took over their minds and halted them where they were. He then brought each of them to the realization that this was a new friend and playmate. That was not too hard, for the roches had never seen a cat, and only its strangeness had made them curious.

He had more trouble with the cat, for the ages-old dislike and fear of dogs was strong within it. But he finally calmed it by implanting the knowledge firmly in its mind that these strange beings were not dogs, actually, and that they meant it no harm, and all were to be friends.

Soon he was grinning at his ability, as he saw the nine animals eating, drinking and playing together, as though they had been the best of comrades all their lives.

"I'm really quite an animal trainer," he chuckled to himself as he watched them.

* * * * *

_High above the strange being lay on its padded bench and frustrated thoughts ran through its mind. It had noticed the two DIFFERENT minds who again had come briefly to this planet in their ship of space, talked with the three other different ones, and then had come to this western continent in its night time. The mind "heard" them conversing with that other but unreadable mind again, but still no sort of contact could be made. Why? it wondered again. What sort of mind was it, that it could not be touched?_

_Through its multiphased scanner the being carefully watched that entity below which appeared so like an Estrellan native--but after it had left on that peculiar conveyance, bearing a container with a strange animal, sight of the entity had been lost among the crowds of the city streets._

_So now the mind above seethed with questions, to which it could find no logical answers, even though it was beginning to understand the thought-concepts of those others it could "read."_

* * * * *

Late the next day--for Hanlon had quickly adopted the actors' habit of beginning his day at noon--he fed and watered his animals, then got his own meal and ate it.

Then he impressed on the minds of his roches that they were to behave themselves, and not destroy things about the room in their play, and not to make too much noise.

"Sure is handy to be able to do this," he smiled. "Boy, what a baby sitter I'd make if I could control humans this way."

He called the cat to him, snapped on the harness and leash the S S men had brought with it, and took it down to Yandor's office.

He had worked carefully on the cat's mind, and knew the characteristics and texture thoroughly. He had practiced seeing through its eyes and hearing through its ears under all conditions--from ordinary daylight to bright carbides, from dusk to the blackness of a closet. He felt certain he could use the animal as planned, under any and all conditions.

"This is 'Ebony'," he explained to Yandor as he presented the cat. At the same time he was impressing on the feline's mind that this was to be its new master, that it must always obey him, and must allow itself to be the man's constant pet and companion without hesitation or animosity.

"'Ebony'," Hanlon went on saying to Yandor, "is the Terran word for 'black', and that is probably why its former owner gave it that name."

The impresario took the big, beautiful animal in his arms and exclaimed over and over at its wonderful appearance, its sleek lines, soft fur and intelligent face. But it was the cat's long, furry tail that was his greatest delight. He stroked and petted it as though he could not really believe such a thing was true. Hanlon was careful to explain to Yandor how he must stroke _with_ the lay of the fur, and never _against_ it.

"Well now, I can never thank you enough, my friend, for this marvelous gift," Yandor said. "I hope it didn't cost you too much."

Hanlon made himself cough in an embarrassed manner. "Well ... er ... it really didn't cost me ..." he grinned and left it at that, nor did Yandor, after a knowing look, refer to the matter again.

Instead, he said, "It shall be the prize of my collection. I shall treasure this above all others."

Yandor really was in the transports of delight, known only to collectors who have made an unusual find. Hanlon read from the surface of his mind the thought that this man was a wonderful friend, "and probably no menace to our plans at all. I am sure we can trust him--and use him."

The latter phrase delighted Hanlon, although he was careful not to let his feelings show in his face. This was what he was after. He had only to learn who "we" was. But he was making progress; he could really begin to learn things.

"You do not need to keep the harness on Ebony all the time," he explained aloud. "Just when you want to go out with him. In your home or office, leave it off, as it is probably not too comfortable. I'm sure," he decided to do a bit of direct suggesting, "that you'll soon grow to love the cat enough so you'll want to keep it with you all the time. It will lie on your desk, or in your lap, and be the finest sort of companion."

"Yes, and be the envy of all my friends," Yandor swelled with importance.

Hanlon explained rapidly about its feeding and drinking habits, and that while it was house-broken it should be taken outdoors several times a day. When he was sure Yandor knew how to care for the animal, Hanlon left the office and went back to his rooms.

After the performance that night, Hanlon went quickly home and lay down on the bed. He sent out a portion of his mind to contact that of Ebony, which Yandor had taken to his own room and installed in a padded basket, as Hanlon had suggested.

Through the cat's eyes he could see the interior of Yandor's bedroom, and watched while the latter prepared for bed and finally dropped off to sleep. Then Hanlon withdrew his mind, and did the same.

He had set the wake-up on his time-teller for fairly early the next morning. Immediately upon awakening he sent part of his mind back into that of the cat. All during the day--which he spent mainly lying down or sprawled in his easy chair, when he was not preparing or eating his meals, or attending to the wants of his roches--he watched Yandor at his daily activities.

For the impresario, delighted with his new pet, kept the cat with him all the time, even to taking it into the office-like study of his home with him. There, as soon as they were inside, Hanlon made Ebony leap up onto the table-desk, and curl up on the one corner. He wanted this habit to become a permanent one--and it, too, delighted the Estrellan.

Now the cat was in the best possible place for Hanlon's spying while Yandor was at home.

Later in the day, when it was time for the entrepreneur to go to his downtown office, he put into effect another suggestion Hanlon had made. He put the small, ornate harness Hanlon had given him for that purpose onto the cat, snapped the leash to it, and took Ebony with him.

Dozens of Yandor's friends stopped him and complimented him--though somewhat jealously--upon his acquisition, which made him prouder than ever. For Ebony created such a sensation that it took Yandor nearly an hour longer than usual to get to his office.

He had not yet reached there, in fact, when Hanlon was surprised and a little nettled by a knock on his apartment door. Somewhat angrily he got up off the bed, and went and opened it. A native was standing there, grinning.

"What d'you want?" Hanlon growled querulously.

"Boy, are you in a temper this morning?" a voice said in Terran, while the grin grew lop-sided.

"Morrie!" Hanlon yelled, throwing his arms about the other. Then, over his shoulder, he noticed a number of his neighbors peering out of their doors, or standing about in the hall, listening, and knew with a sinking feeling that they must have heard the Terran words, and be wondering about them. His mind raced, then he spoke even more loudly in Estrellan.

"My brother, it is such a surprise to see you here. How did you happen to come from Lura to visit me?" Then he dragged the surprised S S man into his room, and shut the door.

"What gives? Why that 'my brother' routine?"

"Noticed the neighbors gawking, and knew they had heard us talking Terran. But I sure am glad to see you, even if I was so curt at first. Was concentrating on a job, and didn't like being interrupted just then."

"Oh, sorry. Want me to come back later?"

"No, no, it wasn't really that important." Hanlon was silent a short moment while he disengaged the part of his mind that was in Ebony, and brought it back into his own. "Come on, take that chair. Go ahead and gab while I get dressed."

Manning did as requested, and they talked seriously for some time, each bringing the other up to date on all they knew about their part of this business, and what they were planning.

In particular, Hanlon told Manning about the local aspects of the work of the criminal elements, and what he suspected as well as what he actually knew and had done.

"I'm almost certain now," he said, "that the criminals and the folks who're trying to keep Estrella out of the Federation are tied in together, but I haven't any real proof ... yet. But I think I soon will have, with the line of investigation I'm on."

"We've about come to the same conclusion," Manning said thoughtfully, "but we haven't any more proof than you have, if as much."

Hanlon told him about stopping Auldin's "wrecking crew", and a few other possible leads he had uncovered to local men who seemed to be in on the activities here, especially one Ovil Esbor, a local politician.

"He's a sort of gang-boss or district captain," Hanlon added, "but I think he has quite a lot of fingers in different illegal pies."

"I'll get right at it," Manning said. "The admiral--he sent his regards, by the way--said we were to work together as closely as possible, and that you would feed me leads whenever you got 'em--as I will you."

"Sure, I will. Maybe I'm sticking my neck out, trying for the big fellows and asking you to take care of the smaller fry, but it seems...."

"Think nothing of it, little chum," Manning waved his hand airily. "As long as we clean out his hoo-raw's nest, I don't care how we do it, and I'm ready to work at anything. The admiral said--and what you've told me clinches it--that I'd better be an aspirant for a spot in the political set-up here, so I'll pretend I heard about Esbor, and go right to him."

For another hour they discussed ways and means, and then Manning rose to go, after telling Hanlon where he was living here in Stearra.

"We'll see each other every few days," he said.

As soon as Manning was gone, Hanlon threw himself on the bed and again sent part of his mind back into that of the cat, now with Yandor in the latter's office. And Hanlon kept it in Ebony's brain all the rest of that day and early evening. But nothing in which he was particularly interested happened--and he was beginning to wonder if his ideas about Yandor were right after all. Nothing but legitimate theatrical business had been transacted all day--at least while Hanlon was watching. There had been those two hours or more while Manning was at his rooms....

During the time Hanlon was on the stage that night, he had to concentrate all his mental faculties on his roches, and had to wi