Senior Lieutenant George Hanlon opened the designated door and stepped
through into the next office. A grey-haired man, wearing the Twin Comets
of a Regional Admiral, was sitting behind a desk, studying some papers.
He continued sitting thus, the papers held so they hid his face,
apparently so intent on his work he had not noticed anyone entering.
But Hanlon instinctively knew better, and stood stiffly at attention,
awaiting the other's pleasure. Soon the man lowered the papers ... and
Hanlon gasped,
"Da...". His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes became swiftly hostile at
remembrance of the hate he had carried all these years on account of
this man. He wanted to stalk out, but ingrained discipline chained him
to the spot. His voice, though, was very cold when he spoke. "Senior
Lieutenant George Hanlon reporting, sir."
The big man was a startling older edition of the newly-appointed
lieutenant, only grey where the latter was blond, assured from long,
bitter experience where the other was as yet untried. Now he rose to his
feet, acknowledging the salute.
"At ease. I can imagine your surprise at seeing me," and if there was a
hurt look on his face at sight of that implacable hatred in his son's
eyes and demeanor, he could not be blamed. "However, I think your
experience of the past hour might have prepared you for sight of me in
uniform. Yes," as he saw the sudden surprise in the young man's eyes,
"that was the reason for my apparent disgrace. I hope you will forgive
me, now that you know why it was necessary."
"Of course," stiffly punctilious, "only," his eyes were still hard and
stormy, "was it important enough to break mother's heart?"
The older man's voice grew soft and shook with genuine emotion. "You and
everyone had to believe that, Spence, all these years. I've been
prayerfully waiting for the day when I could explain to you. I can
assure you, Son," with all the sincerity his voice could carry, "that
she did not die of a broken ..."
"I know bet ..."
"You do not know better!" his father interrupted sternly. "Please wait
until I finish explaining. No, Spence," his voice was still, emphatic
but softer now, almost pleading. "She knew and approved. Your mother was
one of Earth's greatest heroines."
Hanlon was still standing stiffly, but now his eyes clouded with mixed
emotions, of which doubt predominated. His mind touched that of his
father, and he seemed to read truth there. But could he believe this
now ... after all those dreadful years?
"Actually," his father was continuing, "your mother had become a victim
of multiple sclerosis. When we knew she had less than two months to
live, I talked to her, with the Corps' permission, about my going into
Secret Service work. With her death so near, it could be done
convincingly. Believing you would understand some day, and approve, she
agreed. I'm terribly sorry for all you've had to suffer during the
intervening years. Again I beg forgiveness."
As his father talked, Hanlon's eyes and heart gradually lost their
hardness, and at the end he ran forward and grasped the other's hands.
"Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry. I've hated hating you. If it hadn't been for the
long talks Pa and Ma Hanlon had with me, I don't believe I would ever
have gone into the cadet school."
The older man hugged his son hungrily.
"Believe me, Spence, it wasn't easy for me, either. But I didn't
actually desert you, even though it had to seem so. I know everywhere
you've been, everything you've done. You've been watched over
constantly. I engineered your adoption by the Hanlons--he was a retired
Corpsman, you know--and I've paid your expenses. You see, I happen to
love my son very much."
"And I loved my Dad so, too. That's why it hurt ... say, now I can
change my name back, can't I? The Hanlons both died since I started
cadet school, you know."
"Well ... no, for the time being I think not. You're well known as
'Hanlon' now, and you'd better leave it that way, for now, at least.
However, you'll find need of an alias from time to time in this new
job--you can use it then. I certainly will be proud to have you wearing
my name again."
But both men were shying away from all this frank expression of their
emotion, and Hanlon dropped back a pace.
"How does it happen I've never seen you around the buildings or grounds
here?"
"No one ever sees me in uniform, except in this or some other Base
office on special occasions. Outside, I'm always disguised. When I come
into a Reservation I'm a bearded janitor or something. You'll soon learn
about disguising, yourself."
Then he became all business, and his face sobered as he went back to his
desk.
"Sit there, Lieutenant. There's a lot to tell you, and you are to pay
strict attention and get it all in this one interview, for there can't
be another at this time. It would attract too much attention for you to
be called here more than this once."
He smiled again, with a warm, fatherly pride. "First, let me
congratulate you, officially on your decision, and to welcome you
sincerely into the Secret Service."
Hanlon bowed in acknowledgement, then sat down and leaned forward
attentively. "I'll try to get it all, sir."
"First, the matter of your dismissal. It will come some time within the
next few days, but even I won't know ahead of time when or how it will
happen. Some SS man unknown on Terra will be called in to attend to it.
But when it does come you will recognize it almost instantly, and you
must play it up big. Don't let on in any way that you suspect or know it
is anything but genuine. You must impress on your fellow students, and
upon everyone else you know or later come to know, that it was real, and
that it has soured you for all time on the Corps, and on all law and
order and government."
The young man nodded, but said nothing, for his throat was clogged and
his spirits quailing at thought of that public disgrace. He had been so
proud here ... how could he possibly stand giving it all up? Maybe he
was a fool ever to have agreed.
But the admiral was continuing. He shoved a sheaf of bills across the
desk. "Here's a thousand credits. Use them to buy your civilian clothes
and kit after your dismissal. Buy a few shares of some stock, too--the
amount or value doesn't matter. Get a small insurance policy. Yes,"
seeing his son's questioning look, "there's a reason.
"After you get your clothing and things and have discarded your uniform,
go rent a hotel room, then go to the Inter-Stellar bank and rent a
safety deposit box. That's one of the first things you do in each city
on any planet to which you may be sent on assignment. Now, here are two
keys that fit box number 1044 in all the I-S banks. They are special
master keys of our own designing. Box 1044 is used because of its
nearness to those private booths, in the universal set-up all I-S banks
use. That box is our means of confidential communication.
"After you get into the vault ostensibly to get into your own box, use
these to open box 1044. There's a little electronic gadget in each box
1044. When you want immediate service on anything you put into the box,
press the red button on the mechanism. Go back a few hours later and it
will have been attended to. So now, when you get into the bank, put a
note there listing your hotel room number and also your new deposit key
number. Come back in a couple of hours and you'll find a key that will
have your box number stamped on it, but which will open both boxes. Then
leave your old key and one of these in 1044, and carry the other and the
new one."
"Oh, I see. The stock and insurance policy in my own box are decoys,
eh?"
"Right. You put all your reports in box 1044, and get your orders there.
We all use 1044, so just sort through the envelopes for any with your
name on them. The same key also locks the sound-proof and spyray-proof
cubicle in the vault, so no one, not even another SS man, can interrupt
you unless you want to let them in."
"My own box for decoy; 1044 for service matters; key fits both boxes and
cubicles; red button for quick service. Yes, sir."
"When you get to a new city or planet, put your local address there as
soon as feasible. That's your one sure contact. Also, in each box you'll
find quite a lot of money at all times. You take what you need for
expenses and get your salary that way. If your job calls for more than
is in the box at any time, leave a request and press the red button.
More will be brought immediately."
"That's quite a trust, sir," Hanlon gulped. "I hope I'll always use it
wisely."
His father nodded and smiled. "You will, Spence. We wouldn't have asked
you to join us if we weren't sure. As your father, I'm mighty proud to
have you for a son. As Assistant Chief of the SS, I feel sure you'll be
a credit to us.
"Now," all business again, "a sleep instructor and some reels of the
language and other information about Simonides Four will be delivered to
your hotel room. Simonides Four is your first assignment. There's
something fishy going on there we haven't been able to find out about,
but we think you can get us some good leads.
"Don't try to handle it alone--just get us information. And, son, use
your talent for reading minds. I heard over the intercom all you said to
Rogers, and while that wasn't the only reason you were asked into the
SS, believe me, it will be tremendously important in your work with
us--it'll help us where no other agent can get to first check station.
And I have a feeling, too, that you'll develop both that and many other
mental abilities once your mind starts to hit the ball. You'll find in
this work every single talent and ability you can develop will be useful
and needed."
"Yes," Hanlon nodded slowly, "I'm beginning to realize that. I'll
practice a lot."
"As for money, don't be niggardly--spend what you like and always carry
quite a bit with you for emergencies. Live well, although not
extravagantly unless the occasion of your work demands it. Not to save
money, but to remain as inconspicuous as possible."
"The Service has it all thought out, hasn't it?" Admiration shone in the
young lieutenant's eyes.
"They've had a lot of years for it, Spence. Now, there's another means
of contact, for cases of emergency. Get word to, or an interview with,
any officer of the rank of Rear Admiral or above. The words 'Andromeda
Seven' are the passwords to let him know who and what you are. Once
you've made that contact, commandeer anything or any service needed to
assist your work."
"I understand, sir." Hanlon strained to review all this new knowledge
quickly. Then, "I'm sure I have it all. Get civilian kit; hotel room;
stocks and insurance; deposit boxes--my own and 1044; sleep-learn
Simonidean; 'Andromeda Seven'."
"Correct. Now, you'll be interested in a little of the background of the
Secret Service. It was John Snyder himself who organized it, shortly
after the formation of the Snyder Patrol. He realized almost at once
that such an unknown, undercover echelon would be a must. There's
usually not more than two hundred of us. New members are taken in only
as replacements, or when some Corpsman with a special ability, such as
your mind-reading, is discovered.
"We work anywhere throughout space when there's a need, but there are
usually one or two of us on each planet of the Federation at all times.
When not on any special assignment we keep busy on some planet not our
original home, checking the background of cadets or especially-appointed
government workers, guarding VIP's, and such other vital matters. But
whatever we are, or whatever we are doing, we _are_ the Corps!
"We are mighty proud of the fact that no SS man has ever betrayed
his trust, even to save his life. Our work is dangerous in the
extreme, but without exception we are all men with high mental
ability--quick-thinking, clever, and unusually adept at getting out of
scrapes." He grimaced mirthlessly. "We learn that last mighty quick in
this business ... if we last.
"And to all of us, our dangerous, unadvertised, publicly unrecognized
work is personally highly satisfying. We know we are the guardians of
the peace of the Federation, even though we get no hero-worship from the
populace who don't know we exist."
Hanlon nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "One thing puzzles me, Dad. You and
Admiral Rogers both spoke about how secret all this is, yet I was given
the chance to back out after I knew about it."
His father grinned. "Several have, over the years. They underwent
treatment to erase that knowledge from their mind." He stood up and came
around the desk to where his son had also risen. "I may not see you
again before you leave, Spence ... George, I mean," he smiled ruefully,
then brightened. "But the best of luck, son, and keep in mind that you
have the honor of the finest body of men in the Universe in your
keeping, and always try to be worthy of the trust."
"I will, sir," gravely. "It seems almost too much responsibility for a
cub like me, and I'm scared. But I'll do my best."
"Take it easy at first. Don't try too much, and don't put yourself in
any more danger than you have to until you learn the ropes, which you
will, faster than you may now think. On this assignment, all we ask is
that you try to get us some leads we can work on."
"Right! I don't want to conk out too soon, now. I've got a lot of living
I want to do first, especially now I've got my dad back again. I sure
hope we manage to see each other fairly often."
"Oh, we undoubtedly will, except when one or the other of us is on a
long job. We'll meet--somewhere--quite often."
"About this assignment of mine, Dad. Can you give me any dope on it?"
"You'll get what any of us know, from the reels, and the latest
development from the box when you're ready to start out. Oh, yes, I
almost forgot. The paper we use is a digestible plastic, so make a meal
off all orders and confidential communications you receive. The box
always contains a supply for your reports or requests for specific
information or assistance."
"Saves money on feed bills, eh?"
His father grinned appreciatively, then sobered. "Make sure you
understand each step you take first, and don't try to run until you know
how to crawl. Well, safe flights, Spence."
"Safe flights to you, too, Dad, always. And I want you to know I'm so
glad to have all those horrible misunderstandings and hates cleared
away."
"I missed my boy, too. But 'vast rewards', you know."
With mixed sensations of high elation and worried fear, the
swiftly-maturing young Corpsman walked slowly through the beautiful park
that surrounded the great stainless-steel skyscraper that housed the
cadets during their training period. His thoughts were as twisted as
were the meandering paths and walks he trod so unseeingly.