Man of Many Minds Read online

  Chapter 7

  George Hanlon glanced about the observation deck and saw at somedistance the young man who had sat at the same dining table. Hanlongrinned a bit, and directed his mind that way.

  To the best of his memory, he concentrated on doing the same thing hehad done when he got inside the steward's mind. For long, anxiousminutes he tried. He felt tense, and the strain made his heart pound. Atlast he sank back into his chair.

  "The other was just a fluke, I guess," he frowned in frustration anddisgust at himself. "I keep thinking I'm getting good--then _flooie_!"He idly sent his mind towards the boy again ... and suddenly foundhimself once more within another person's mind.

  It was a strange, weird feeling ... this getting two sets of thoughts atthe same time. Also, Hanlon felt a bit as though he was a trespasser insome forbidden temple. Yet he persevered, trying to see if he could readanything there ... and was disappointed to find he could peruse andunderstand only the fleeting surface thoughts.

  With all his might, in every way he could think of, he tried to probeback and beneath those passing thought-concepts, but could get noinformation whatever of the young man's past or knowledge. Only vacuous,self-centered thoughts which were flowing idly through the youth's mindwere available to him.

  He wondered if he could influence the other to do something. If he couldcontrol another's mind--even just a little--it would really help in hiswork. So he now tried every method his agile mind could imagine, to makethe fellow pick up the book that lay beside his chair. He concentratedon it, he insisted, he willed it. But in vain--he could make noimpression whatever.

  Hanlon withdrew his mind. "I've no control," he thought to himself. "Ican't take over his mind in any way. Neither can I read his past; justhis present thoughts. That's not too bad, although I hoped I had hit thejackpot at last."

  After some further reflection the thought occurred, "Maybe I can dobetter with someone else."

  During the balance of the day he kept trying to read the minds of othersof his fellow passengers, but found the same results in each case. Hedid, however, develop the technique of making a much quicker entranceinto a mind--could do that reading more swiftly, and yet know he wascorrect.

  "I get it now. I've got to approach it relaxed, not all tensed up like Iwas at first," he finally realized.

  But when it came to probing into and reading the whole mind, into itspast thoughts and knowledges, no. Just that ... no!

  Pessimistically he began to feel he wasn't going to be able to do asmuch with his "mind-reading" as he--and his superiors--had hoped.

  Did this mean, he wondered disconsolately as he went to his stateroom,that he was to be a failure in the Secret Service? Or, he brightenedmomently, could he develop other methods of ferreting out information?But that, he told himself honestly, was out. What did he know aboutdetective work? The SS already had the best detectives in the Universe.

  This dark mood persisted while he went to bed and finally dropped off tosleep. But when he awoke the next morning he felt cheerful again. He hada lot--and he would get more.

  He ate a good breakfast, then went back to his deck chair and there,resolutely, he opened his mind once more to general impressions. Hewould keep working at it, and more was bound to come. Look how far he'dadvanced already. A lot further than when he had started. And at that,he probably--no, undoubtedly--could do more than any of the otherfellows on certain problems. As far as he knew--and Dad and AdmiralRogers had talked as though he were the only one they knew about--no oneelse could read even surface thoughts.

  So he kept diligently at it. And very soon, so strongly he deduced themind must be very close to him, he again found those sinisterimpressions that had bothered him so much.

  This time he glanced about, in apparently casual curiosity, yet touchedmind after mind of those nearest him. Then hit pay dirt!

  Why, it was that bluff, hearty-looking, red-headed man in the thirdchair to his right. He didn't look vicious, that was certain, thoughthere was a grim set to his jaw. Yet his surface thoughts showed the manto be hard, cold and ruthless--a pure killer type. Hanson sensed he wasone of those men who have such a will to power that the lives and rightsof others are held cheaply, contemptuously. The kind who, if anothergets in his way, removes him ... but carefully, lest his ownhighly-valuable skin be put in jeopardy. If he could get some one elseto do the dirty work, so much the better. Such conscienceless killerswere, Hanlon knew, usually arrant cowards.

  There was someone on this ship who was in this man's way--of that Hanlonfelt sure. The killer was determined to destroy this other the firstchance he got. His mind was now weighing chances and possibleopportunities--and Hanlon read and learned.

  Yes, this must be one of those "interesting people" that unknown SStipster back on Terra had mentioned. Was the victim another? Probably.For Hanlon had not yet read any thoughts in this killer's mind about anyconfederates.

  Hanlon kept close watch on this man and his mind, and picked up manyother stray bits of information, including his name, Panek. None seemedof too much immediate importance regarding the matter at hand. Yet theygave the Secret Service man a fairly good picture of the assassin'spersonality, when pieced all together.

  Suddenly, and but a barely passing whisper of thought, Hanlon caught theconcept that the intended victim's death was necessary to the coup"they" were planning on Simonides.

  Hanlon was instantly alerted by that planet-name. Perhaps this was adefinite lead for him. He strained to get more. The killer thoughtoccasionally of a man he called "The Boss", but not the name of thatdignitary, nor his actual position--politically, socially, economically,or otherwise.

  The SS man fumed inwardly because he could not get a clear picture ofthat "Boss." This murderer did not have a visual type of mind, darn it.He didn't see clearly in pictorial terms any of the people or scenesabout which he thought.

  Hanlon had been gradually impressed, though, with the realization thatthis man was very much afraid of his boss. There was a mental shiverevery time thought of his employer entered his mind. There was somethingabout a previous failure, and what would undoubtedly happen unless itwas done now, but Hanlon couldn't get enough of that to make any senseto him.

  Again Panek began thinking, though very sketchily, about "Sime", as hecalled Simonides, and the "plot" that was being hatched there. Hanlonfelt the man's sneering contempt for "those beasts"--but could gain noidea whatever about what that reference meant.

  In so many ways this puzzle seemed to be growing worse instead ofbetter, and Hanlon knew a moment of frustration. But his sense of humorcame to his rescue. "You want the whole thing written out for you inblack and white?" he jeered at himself. "Snap out of it! Quit being adefeatist."

  Harder and more intently he tried to probe into the man's mind. Oh, ifhe could only learn to read below those passing surface thoughts; tofollow them down and back along the memory-chains into the total mind!Revealing though the thoughts he could catch were, for complete andswift results he must find the technique of reading a mind completely.If such a thing were possible.

  But probe as he might, the way to those deeper, buried memories andthoughts continued to remain locked from him.

  And then Panek got up and left the observation deck.

  * * * * *

  A light touch on his knee some time later snapped George Hanlon's eyeswide open, and he looked down to see a small, wriggly dog looking upinto his face, its tail frantically wig-wagging signals of profferedfriendship, the little tongue making licking motions toward the hand thepuppy could not quite reach.

  "Well, hi, fellow," Hanlon reached down and lifted the little dog ontohis lap, where the latter wriggled and contorted in an ecstasy of joy,climbing all over the young man, licking at his hands and trying toreach his face. The puppy was so extremely happy and anxious to makefriends that Hanlon was soon laughing almost convulsively while tryingto avoid those well-meant but very moist kisses.

  "Wait now, boy. Take
it easy. I like you and all that, but let's not getcarried away with ourselves."

  Hanlon scratched the puppy behind one of its floppy ears, and pressed itfirmly but gently down so it was lying on his lap.

  "That's better. Just lie there and take it easy."

  A sudden thought brought a grin onto the young man's lips. He tried toget into the puppy's mind ... and got a real surprise. For after a fewanxious moments of testing and trying, he did it--actually got the dog'sthoughts of pleasure at finding such a wonderful new friend with such anose-appealing effluvium. Hanlon then tried to see if he could get intothe deeper parts of the dog's mind, and using what knowledge of thetechnique he had deduced in his previous though unsuccessful attemptswith humans, found after many more anxious minutes he could follow thethought-and-memory tracks back and back until the dog's whole mind wasopen to him.

  The puppy had far more of a mentality than Hanlon had ever guessed dogshad--and he knew they were far from stupid. This one's mind, he couldnow see, was immature but latently capable.

  Say, this was great! Hanlon probed some more, and found many sketchyfacts--sketchy because the thoughts were incomplete to the puppy, beyondits experience, and not because the man couldn't read perfectly what wasthere. The dog apparently knew a woman--Hanlon got the impression ofskirts--and answered when that goddess called the word "Gypsy."

  "Gypsy, eh?" Hanlon said aloud, and immediately the dog wriggled frombeneath his restraining hand, and again tried to climb up and lickHanlon's face in a frenzy of adoration.

  "Lie down, sir, and be quiet!" Hanlon said sternly, and the puppy did soinstantly, without question or hesitation.

  Hanlon thrilled, realizing at once that it was not what he had said thatdid the trick--but the fact that he was still inside the dog's mind, andthat it had obeyed his will rather than his words.

  "Hey, this needs looking into!"

  Without saying the words aloud this time, Hanlon commanded the dog--orrather, he impressed the command directly onto the puppy's mind with hisown--to get down off his lap onto the deck.

  Instantly it leaped down.

  "Lie down." The dog did so.

  "Roll over." Again silently. But now the puppy merely looked up at him,imploringly, quivering in an apparent emotion of indecision. Hanlonrealized the puppy didn't know how to "roll over."

  "Guess I need to learn how to do it before I can teach, or rather,command, him to do it," Hanlon grinned wryly to himself. For he realizedthat to do so he would have to learn how to control each of the dog'smuscles, and that before he could do that he would have to know whatpart of the brain controlled the nerves that made those muscles obey hiscommands.

  And that, if possible at all, would take one galaxy of a lot of studyand practice.

  For the next several minutes, then, he concentrated in making the puppydo a number of simple tricks, all the time watching carefully to see, ifpossible, the connecting links between brain, nerves and muscles.

  He was beginning to make a little headway in understanding this tripleco-relation, when he heard a sudden gasp. He looked up to see a youngmatron standing before him, her mouth and eyes wide with surprise.

  "Why ... why, Gypsy never did any tricks before. What are you, an animaltrainer?"

  Hanlon leaped to his feet. "The best in the Universe, Madam," hegrinned. "That's a mighty fine puppy you have. He came over andintroduced himself, and we've been having some fun together."

  "Yes, he ran off, and I've been hunting all over for him. But how onearth did you ever teach him so quickly?"

  "It's a gift," Hanlon mocked, then grew serious. "Honestly, Madam, Idon't know," he said quietly. "I just seem to have a way with dogs, isall. By the way, would you sell me the puppy?"

  "Sell Gypsy? No, thanks," and she started away, calling to the dog tofollow. But it stood in indecision, looking from one to the other, notseeming to know whether to follow its beloved mistress or to stay andplay with this nice new friend.

  Hanlon quickly reached out to the dog's mind and impressed on it that itmust follow the woman, and always do whatever she told it. The puppythen trotted away, content.

  George Hanlon sank into his deck chair. This required a good think--amighty serious think--he told himself. He would have to work on this asmuch as on human minds. For if he could control animals--would it workon birds, or insects? Maybe even fish?--then he could get into placeshe, as a man, could not go.

  The lady and dog had disappeared when Hanlon got the inspiration to seeif his mind could find them; if he could again contact the dog when itwas not in sight, and he did not know exactly where it was.

  Instantly, effortlessly, it seemed, as though it happened merely becausehe wished it to, he found himself again inside the puppy's mind. Was itbecause he already knew that mind's pattern, he wondered?

  Anyway, there he was, and now he tried to see if he could look outthrough Gypsy's eyes ... and after much study, he did so. But the visionwas so distorted he wondered if his control was at fault, thenremembered having heard, or read somewhere, that a dog's eyes do notwork exactly the same as a man's.

  Finally he accustomed himself to them enough so he could see that theywere going down a narrow corridor, and then they stopped before a door,which opened after a moment. The dog, without a command, leaped throughthe doorway into the stateroom and ran to its basket, where it lay,panting, looking up at its mistress.