In the hotel room assigned him, George Hanlon threw himself on the bed
and for an hour lay there reviewing this sudden, strange turn of events,
and all it presaged. He tried in vain to thrust out of his mind the
astonished consternation of his classmates, the sneers of the marines
and the jeers of the civilians there at the gate, who had seen his
disgrace. Almost in tears now, he realized at last this was but a
prelude to years of being scorned and vilified as a despised outcast.
Finally he calmed a bit, then got up to pace the room, wondering what
the next move would be. The answer came almost at once. A rap on the
door disclosed a messenger with a package for him. On opening it, after
the man had gone, Hanlon found the sleep-instructor and reels. On top
was a smaller reel marked, "No. 1. Listen to this awake."
He plugged in the machine, and put on the reel. It was his father's
voice.
"You've got this far, now begins your real work. You should be able to
memorize the contents of these reels in two weeks. Briefly, here is what
they contain. Simonides Four was colonized under the direction of a
Greek merchant who gave it his name. Four is the only habitable planet.
Most of the original inhabitants under him were of his nationality, and
the present language is an outgrowth of modern Greek, which you know
somewhat. There are now, of course, many variations and new words, terms
peculiar to their growing and evolving culture. The reels give all this
more fully.
"The last reel tells their history, geography and economic situation as
of today. Also, details about their various large cities, especially New
Athens, their capitol. We believe you will find that city the best place
to start your investigations. When you have these reels memorized, go to
the bank, get your final instructions from the box, and your money for
the trip.
"As to the problem, again briefly this is it: In the past year or so
Federation agents have sensed a movement there, but have not been able
to interpret it. Whatever it is, it is very, very secret--the agents
can't even tell if it is political, religious, or merely social. Also,
they have discovered that many important men, as well as dozens--maybe
hundreds--of less important men, have mysteriously disappeared. All this
has the smell of trouble for the Federation.
"At last the Secret Service was called in. We sent first one man, then a
second. They tried to 'bore from within' by joining whatever the
movement was. But they haven't been able to get even a start--they've
hit it and bounced. The second is still there, still trying.
"As a matter of fact, we have no evidence at all, merely a sort of
'hunch', or presentiment, of a plot against the peace and welfare of the
Federated Planets. There may be nothing wrong at all, but we don't like
to take chances. With your ability to read minds you may be able to find
out. We hope so."
Hanlon thought the message was ended, but then the voice began again. "I
was told you came through your disgrace-scene very well. I know just
what you are undoubtedly feeling at the moment, Spence--how sick at
heart you are--and I only wish there was some way of easing your pain.
But it will pass.
"Good luck, son, and safe flights. Take care of yourself. We're all
behind you, and by the devious ways you know you can call on any or all
of us at need. These reels are all water soluble, so dissolve them in
the washbowl and flush down the drain as soon as you're through with
each."
* * * * *
For the next two weeks Hanlon stayed fairly close to his room, studying
by day from books obtained at the library the things he was learning at
night via the sleep-instructor.
The evening of Graduation Day he sat miserably in front of a video
screen in his room, watching the broadcast of the stately ceremony of
which he would have been a part but for his decision to join the Secret
Service.
All the longings of the years he had wanted to become a part of the
Inter-Stellar Corps; all the hopes and plans he had made during his five
long years in cadet school; all the thrilling pride he had known that he
was to be a part of the greatest organization in the Universe, swelled
inside him and choked him.
When, at long last, the class rose to take the Oath of Allegiance,
Hanlon found himself on his feet, rigidly at attention, repeating the
impressive ritual aloud with them.
Now, for the first time, despite his decision and his private
graduation, he truly felt himself a vital part of the Corps.
* * * * *
On the street on his way to the library the following day, Hanlon
chanced to meet a small group of his former classmates, now clad in
their brand-new dress uniforms of sky-blue and crimson, their new junior
lieutenant's bars shining brightly.
"Hi, fellows!" he greeted them, only to be met by silent glares of
contempt.
"Aw, look, fellows, you know I was framed," Hanlon planted himself in
front of them, and made himself look hurt, nor was that any effort. This
really cut deep. But he had to "play it out"; had to make them keep on
thinking his disgrace was real.
"You guys know I'd never do anything like that," he continued
plaintively. "I didn't cheat--didn't need to. I know I lost my head when
he accused me, but anyone'd do that."
"You mean you were never caught cheating before," Trowbridge sneered.
"You sure had me ... us ... all fooled. Now scram, or else...." He
doubled his fists and took a step toward Hanlon.
The latter still played out his string, but his heart was sick. He liked
the fellows--they had been among his best friends for five long, happy
years. Only now was he truly beginning to realize what a tremendous
price he was paying ... and would have to pay all his life.
He stepped in and swung ... and was instantly the target for flying
fists. He was knocked down several times, but always managed to get up
again. He had been well trained in fighting of all types--and now he was
putting all his knowledge and skill into use--but only for defense and
the pretense of attack.
Even so he was getting badly mauled, for they were as well trained--and
were five to his one. His clothes were dirty and ripped from the
knock-downs, and a button was torn off his coat. His knuckles were
skinned, and he could feel that his face was becoming a mass of bruises.
A hard left connected with his mouth, and he spat out a broken tooth.
"'Ten-shun!" a commanding voice suddenly broke in.
Instantly the five Corpsmen jumped back and, so ingrained was the
training he had received, so did Hanlon, to come at salute as they saw a
High Admiral climbing out of a ground-cab at the curb.
Hanlon, instantly realizing he wasn't in uniform and was supposedly a
discharged Corpsman, quickly dropped his salute and slouched
truculently.
"What's going on here!" the officer asked icily.
"This man's a disgraced cadet, sir. Cheated on final exams," one of them
explained. "He tried to talk to us."
"It's a lousy lie!" Hanlon rasped. "I was framed. The Corps. Paugh!" he
spat in pretend disgust. "I'm getting out of here just as damned quick
as I can, and as far as I can. I'll go clear to Andromeda Seven if I can
raise enough credits!"
Only he, apparently saw the minute widening of the admiral's eyes at
that code-word. The officer faced the new lieutenants sternly.
"A Corpsman is supposed to be able to handle five civilians, not five
Corpsmen to one. If this man is a disgraced cadet, you have a right to
feel as you do about him. But leave him alone--the years will bring him
more sorrow and pain than you can with your fists. And you, fellow,"
turning to Hanlon. "Don't think I'm interfering just to save your
worthless skin," his tone was one of utmost contempt. "I just don't want
Corpsmen fighting on the street. Dismiss."
The five saluted smartly and marched away. The admiral winked briefly
and with respect at Hanlon before reentering his cab.
But as the young man hurried back to his hotel to clean up, he was
heartsick, remembering the many, many months of pleasant companionship
with those boys. Especially Dick Trowbridge, who had been his roommate
and special chum all through cadet school, and who today had seemed
particularly disgusted and vicious in that fight.
Giving up all that had made life so happy and wonderful was more than a
fellow could bear, his bitter thoughts ran. What a fool he had been to
let himself be talked into taking this on. Where were all those "vast
rewards" his dad and Admiral Rogers had talked about so eloquently? How
could anything possibly make up for losing the respect and friendship of
everyone he had ever known?
However, he had to admit, though still doubtfully, Dad had gone through
it even to the point of giving up his son, and those last few weeks with
his adored wife, yet now seemed satisfied and content. Maybe ... maybe
there was something behind it all, that time would prove. But it was
mighty hard to take, just the same.
And this throbbing toothache didn't help his feelings any, either. The
exposed nerve in that broken tooth made it ache like blazes. He'd better
get it fixed before it drove him mad.
He started to go out, then stopped with the realization he had no money
of his own to pay a dentist for the extraction and a bridge.
"What do I do in a case like this?" he wondered. "Is it ethical in such
a purely personal matter, to use Corps funds? Dad didn't mention things
of this sort. On the other hand, he said we got our salaries and
expenses that way. Besides, you could say I lost the tooth in line of
duty, and the Corps should replace it."
He went on, found a dentist and had the work done. Nor did he ever
again feel doubt about spending the Corps' money for things he actually
needed ... but neither did he ever spend any on purely personal pleasures
or extra comforts save as he needed to do so to play up to whatever
position he assumed in the prosecution of his various assignments.
Evening, however, found him still with that smothered feeling of
self-pity about his fight with the fellows, and it persisted even after
he went to bed. By the Shade of Snyder, it wasn't fair to saddle a thing
like this on a mere kid.
It wasn't until after a couple of hours of tossing sleeplessness that he
remembered he hadn't turned on the sleep-instructor. Half-rebelliously,
he nevertheless got up and did so ... and that little act broke his
mood. He dropped asleep almost immediately after returning to bed.
At the end of the two weeks Hanlon felt he knew both the Simonidean
language and its customs well enough to start working. He went to the
bank and, deviously, to box 1044.
Sorting through a thick sheaf of envelopes he found one with his name on
it. He took it to one of the cubicles, whose door he locked from the
inside, setting up full coverage.
As he read there flashed through his mind the background of this other
planet's situation. From his knowledge of politico-history within the
Federation he knew there was an iron-clad agreement that each planet
could choose its own form of government. Most of them chose the
democratic form, but some had a type of fascistic state. One or two--the
most advanced--even had an anarchistic state, with a very minimum of
laws and governing.
Simonides had, about a century earlier, reverted to the empire
status--the only planet within the Federation to do so. It had
originally been colonized as a world-wide republic, but later had broken
up into five independent countries, as different sections became
populated more heavily with people of other national backgrounds than
Greek. These five countries had eventually been recombined, after a
spectacular coup, as an empire.
Then had come this belief of the Corps that something was brewing there
that would affect the peace of the Federation, and the failure of their
agents so far to find out about it.
Now SSM Hanlon's orders were to take ship to Simonides Four, and seek to
learn what he could about these guessed-at conditions as swiftly as
possible. If he gained any impressions of who or what group was behind
this movement, he was to attempt to join it and ferret out that secret
so it could be reported.
With such information in their possession, the Corps would know if it
was anything inimical to the peace and security of the Federation, and
would take the necessary steps.
His instructions ended, "The cost of a first class ticket to Simonides
is seven hundred and fifty credits, so you should draw enough to have at
least fifteen hundred, for all needed expenses. Take the '_Hellene_'
which leaves Centropolis spaceport Friday of this week. We have good
reason to believe that certain interesting people will be aboard that
ship."
Hanlon's mind raced. Evidently someone wanted him to see what
impressions or evidence he could pick up from those suspected persons.
He grimaced as he realized the SS had left it strictly up to him to
discover who those "interesting people" were. Perhaps they looked on it
as a sort of test.
But he thrilled to the sudden awareness of what a wonderfully efficient
and competent organization the SS was--how it kept careful watch on all
its members, and assisted them in every possible manner.
He "dined" on the edible plastic sheets, then left the safety deposit
vault. He arranged for his ticket and reservations at the bank's travel
agency, then went back to his hotel to pack.