Man of Many Minds Page 6

  Chapter 6

  So it was that early Friday morning George Hanlon, still dressed incivvies, of course, arrived at the great passenger liner that was totake him to far Simonides. He was thrilled with the idea of making sucha trip, for he loved the deeps of space--its immensity and itsfathomless mystery gripped him with a feeling of grandeur.

  Yet he had never been far outside the Solar system. The latter was notnecessary on his training cruises, since all the details of a pilot'sjob--the branch of the Service he had hoped to enter--were the same forboth inter-planetary and inter-stellar travel. It was the navigator'sjob that was the harder and more complicated on the longer, faster tripsto destinations one could not see when blasting off.

  This "_Hellene_" on which he was to ride was about sixty-five feet indiameter and approximately three times that in length. The propulsionwas, the builders and engineers acknowledged, not the ultimate by anymeans. They were still constantly experimenting and hoping for muchswifter travel. Still, they did pretty well.

  They had some measure of anti-gravity to help lift the ship from aplanet. About 22%, Hanlon remembered. They still had to use rockets whennear a planet--but these present-day rockets were a far cry from theearly crude ones with which Snyder and his men had put first ships onthe Moon and planets. These could deliver a thrust far more powerfulthan those early ones.

  For long distances they used a type of "warping" that made the ship"skip" along the lines of force that permeate all space. Hanlon hadnever quite got it firmly fixed in his mind just how this was done,especially the technique of the engines that made it possible. That was"advanced stuff" that the cadets were not taught in their regularcourses--it was Post Graduate work for those who were to becomeEngineering Masters.

  As he went up the escalator into the ship Hanlon was met at the outerlock by a deck steward who led him toward the level where his cabin waslocated.

  This was Hanlon's first time aboard one of these luxury liners--howdifferent the deep-piled rugs, the magnificently frescoed passagewaywalls, the deeply upholstered furniture, from the utilitarian plainnessof the Corps' warships on which he had made his practice cruises.

  "As you may know, sir," the steward said as they walked along, "there isneither night nor day in space, but we use Terran time on the ship, andlights are turned on and off to conform to the regular Terran day.Breakfast is served from seven to nine, luncheon from twelve tofourteen, and dinner from eighteen to twenty-one."

  "Thanks." A credit note changed from hand to hand--tipping was still instyle. The obsequious steward gave him further directions for findingthe games and recreational rooms, and other points of interest aboard.

  Hanlon unpacked, and stored his luggage in the compact closets and then,having heard the first and second warnings, hastened to the observationdesk, to watch the take-off. He had barely reached it and been strappedinto the acceleration chair turned to face the long, narrow quartziteport, when the blast-off sirens began screaming their third and finalwarning.

  The intra-ship communicators blared, "All passengers andpersonnel strap in. Five minutes until blast-off ... fourminutes ... three ... two ... one ... thirty seconds ...fifteen ... ten ... five, four, three, two, one, BLAST!"

  Dimly heard through the insulated hull was what Hanlon knew to be atremendous crescendo roar of sound, and he was pushed deep into theresilient spring-cushions of his chair. A constricting band seemed to beclamped on his chest, while at the same time there was a curious feelingthat he should weigh less but didn't. That was the peculiar sensationthe combination of anti-gravity and the thrust of the rockers alwaysgave.

  From experience he knew how to regulate his breathing and to let hismuscles and nerves relax as much as possible, so that for him there wasbut a brief moment of discomfort. Then he was able to watch the sceneunfolding before and below him.

  The ground and that outward splash of almost-intolerable flame quicklydropped away and within minutes the scene expanded until he was able tosee hundreds of square miles of city, country and ocean. Soon he couldsee the distant mountains; but gradually the scene assumed a dimness ofdetail that persisted until they were far outside the atmosphere. Thenthe great continental masses became visible as a whole, but without anysmaller details apparent.

  Two and a half hours later they were past the Moon, and began buildingup the tremendous speed that was to take them across inter-stellardepths in a matter of short days. And as Luna shrank to a small spherebehind them, Hanlon felt the acceleration grow constant, so unstrappedhimself and got up. He stretched hugely, to relieve the cramped feelingin his muscles, then turned to survey his fellow passengers.

  He noticed several men in Corps' uniform, and hoped none of them knewhim--or if so, would be good enough not to spread word of his disgrace.That would make the trip uncomfortable, lonely and unproductive, forthen it would be better for him to spend most of his time in hisstateroom. He thought of those "interesting people" he had been toldabout ... whatever that tip might mean.

  For George Hanlon, youngest man ever to be assigned to the Inter-StellarCorps' Secret Service--although he did not know this until later--hadthat within him which placed matters of duty uppermost in his mind atall times.

  Accustomed for nearly half of his life to the conscious task of keepinghis mind-reading talent hidden and unused, he now knew he must work atit continuously to bring it up to its highest possible level ofefficiency. Only by thus knowing every facet of his ability could he dowhat had to be done in his new task.

  He sat down again and closed his eyes in order better to study thisproblem without outside and extraneous matters interfering. He becameawed and a little frightened as he realized fully the weight of his newduties and responsibilities, even though he had been all through thisseveral times before. Somehow, his being aboard ship on his way to hisactual work seemed to make this terrific responsibility more weighty.

  Why must he be burdened with such a load as they had tied onto him? Whatwere the Corps' top brass thinking of, anyway, to put so much on anuntried kid just out of school?

  At last he began to think less of his own burden and to concentrate onseeing what he could pick up mentally. He kept his eyes closed, butopened his mind wide and let the welter of thought-impressions roll inunhindered.

  There was much laughter and lighthearted gaiety about him, as wasnatural on such a luxury liner. There was also some fear of space andthe emptiness; some actual illness from space-fright. There were manymental undercurrents, and in one or two instances he thought he caughtvague hints of sinister intrigue, but was never quite able to isolatethese, or to bring them into more distinct focus. Quite evidently themen--or women--thinking such thoughts were able to close their minds tosome extent--or else he was too rusty at reading. He realized, too, thatthey might not be thinking of any such thing--he remembered once when hewas a boy he thought he had caught some such thought, then found laterit was merely a neighbor reading a story with a sinister plot.

  Mind-reading, he told himself, was the field in which he would beassigned to work. The Corps and the SS would be sure to hand him all thejobs where other agents had failed, just as they had in this case, inhopes that he could get them some beginning points of contact. So it wasup to him to get busy and learn how to do it better.

  The call for lunch found him still studying, but he was hungry, and wentdown to eat. He could work there as well as on the observation deck,anyway.

  Going into the dining room, the head waiter assigned him to a tablealmost in the center of the large and tastefully decorated room. Forsome moments he busied himself studying the menu, and when he hadordered he glanced up again at his tablemates.

  He had been introduced to this matron, and to her son who appeared to beabout his own age. He probed briefly, finding her a good sort but alittle too impressed with her own importance--new-rich, he guessed. Theboy he disliked on sight--he seemed a selfish, pampered brat.

  So he forgot them and concentrated on letting his mind roam about thegreat room, see
king information and trying to refine and develop hismind-reading ability. It seemed to him the latter was improving to someextent ... yet realized this could as easily be wish-fulfillment asactuality.

  After luncheon he returned to the observation deck and there, as thelong afternoon slowly passed, he sat in his deck chair, eyes closed,mind wide open.

  Several times he caught some one thought-impression more distinctly thanthe general run, and concentrated on trying to trace it mentally; toread it more clearly and minutely. But as he did not have much success,it began to irritate him ... and that made him angrier.

  "Keep at it, and don't expect miracles," he scolded himself. "Sure,you've got something, but anything--any ability of mind or muscle--needstraining and practice to get anywhere!"

  After dinner that first evening Hanlon went into the recreation hall.There were dozens of tables where people were playing various games. Hesaw that around many of these other people were standing, watching theplay, and knew from this that social custom on the ship did not frown onsuch silent kibitzing.

  Therefore, he wandered about until he found a table where four men wereplaying stud poker. Here he stood, watching the game, but concentratingon the mind of the man opposite him, checking his mental impressionsagainst the man's wins and losses.

  He couldn't, at any time, actually read in the man's mind what his "holecard" was, he found. But he could quite easily sense from the player'smind whether the latter considered it a good one, a very poor one, oronly a possible winner. By watching the play as well as studying theman's feelings, facial movements and muscle twitches or tensenesses,Hanlon was soon able to make some remarkably accurate predictions as towhat the card was. By checking his deductions with the card when it wasshown, he saw he was gradually coming closer and closer to a perfectscore of "reading."

  * * * * *

  The next day Hanlon again sat most of the time in the lounge, his eyesclosed, letting his mind soak up all the impressions and vibrations hecould. When one seemed particularly strong, he tried to follow it andlocate the person--with his mind, not his eyes--and read the wholethought.

  Mostly he found again excitement and pleasure. Almost everyone on boardseemed to be having a grand time, and enjoying the trip to the utmost.It was what might be expected--a gay, carefree holiday crowd.

  Yet there was, occasionally caught, that sinister undercurrent that hadso puzzled him since he first sensed it the day before. It was notprominent at any time, nor continuous ... more as though only one or twominds held the thought, and those not in the lounge all the time, butwandering in and out.

  He tried to analyze the feeling of those thoughts. They weremalevolent--that he had sensed from the beginning. And finally, later inthe afternoon, the person or persons thinking them evidently spent sometime near him in the lounge, for the feeling became much clearer to theSS man.

  Hanlon still kept his eyes closed. He made no effort at this time to tryto identify who was giving out those menacing sensations. That wouldcome later. At the moment he was more interested in trying to work outjust what those sinister impressions meant.

  And gradually his mind was forced to the conclusion that it could meanonly one thing--a killing.

  Hanlon was devoting almost all his mind to this problem when anothermental impression intruded, and grew stronger, more demanding of hisattention.

  It was a feeling of sympathetic concern, yet diffident, apologetic. Hefelt it growing stronger, seeming to be approaching him, to be directedat him.

  For the moment he left off worrying about the other matter, and watchedthis new thought.

  By the instant it was growing stronger, and closer. He knew that, someway. He directed his attention toward what he believed was its source,but idly, half angry at it for interrupting his more important thoughts.It was in front of him ... and suddenly, like a bright, white beam oflight, his mind reached out and touched directly the mind holding thatthought.

  Touched it ... it was instantly, unbelievably, _inside_ that mind!

  He was able, actually, to _read_ the surface thoughts!

  Clearly, distinctly, as though it were his own mind, Hanlon knew he wasone with a deck steward, who had noticed him sitting there all day andthe day before, with closed eyes and strained face. (His efforts atconcentration must have been too apparent--he'd have to learn to guardthat; to keep his face more impassive.)

  Now the steward was coming to see if he was ill. And at that instant asoft, apologetic voice spoke from in front of him--spoke words he hadalready read in that mind.

  "Beg pardon, Mr. Hanlon, sir, but is anything wrong?"

  He opened his eyes lazily, and let a smile break out as he saw thesolicitous face of the white-coated attendant.

  "Me? Not really. Just a little queazy, but I'm feeling better all thetime."

  "I'm glad. But be sure and call if I can be of any service."

  "Thank you, I will." Hanlon reached in his pocket and slipped a creditnote into the man's hand.

  And as the steward walked away Hanlon's mind was instantly whirling withthis newly-discovered ability. He was astonished and delighted, ofcourse ... but a little disturbed, too.

  "I was actually inside the guy's mind!" he thought in amazement. "That'sa new one! I was never able to do that before. I really read histhoughts! I've got to find out more about this. Let's see, now, how didI do it?"