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."