The night the sneak boat was due to return, Hanlon early sent word
to Yandor that he was ill, and could not perform that night. The
entrepreneur came, boiling over with anger, to Hanlon's rooms.
"Well now," he began, "what's all this about...?"
"Ooh, quiet, please," Hanlon moaned. He had been ready for just some
such thing, and was lying in bed, face contorted with pain, and now
pressed his hands to his ears as though Yandor's loud voice was more
than he could stand. "Can't you see I'm sick? Why must you make so much
noise?"
The agent was taken aback by this counterthrust. He calmed a bit then,
but asked many questions. Hanlon's partial answers and evident pain
finally convinced the impresario that his star performer was, indeed,
too ill to appear.
"These attacks come only once or twice a year, and usually last only a
day or two," Hanlon assured him in a weak voice. "I'll try my best to
be on hand tomorrow."
"Very well, I'll expect you then. Well now, there is something I've
been meaning to talk to you about, and now is a good time. I want you
to work into your act various things to say against the Terrans; about
how such wonderful performances as yours would be impossible if we were
to submit to them and accept their so-called invitation to join their
Federation. Suggest to the audience that we would all become slaves,
and that neither would performers have time to prepare their acts, nor
would the others be allowed to come and watch them."
Hanlon was slightly prepared for this because he had seen it forming in
Yandor's mind, but he did not like it any the better. He was just about
to make an angry retort when he took himself in hand, and continued
keeping in the character he had assumed. He groaned a bit louder, and
twisted more violently on the bed.
"Please, nyer, leave me now. I hate for anyone to see me while I'm like
this. As for what you've just said, we'll talk about it later and see
what can be worked out."
And, reluctantly, it seemed, Yandor finally left.
When night at last brought its cloak of darkness, Hanlon put the roches
to sleep and slipped quietly from his room. Down in the back, though,
he could not seem to get his tricky acetylene-powered engine to start.
He fussed and tinkered for nearly two hours before he could finally get
it going.
"So help me, I'm never going to cuss out a real ground-car after this
because it acts up occasionally," he said as he rode out of the yard
and down the dusty street. He drove as fast as he could out to the
clearing where the sneakboat had already landed.
"Sorry to be late, fellows," he said as soon as he had given the
password and been allowed aboard. He accepted gratefully the cup of
coffee they gave him, and griped for five solid minutes about those
gosh-awful excuses for transportation these so-and-so natives used.
"Here, have a box of candy bars, and quit belly-aching," one of
them said at last. The other held out another gift, a pound can of
pulverized instant coffee.
"Hey, these are wonderful," Hanlon's spirits rose as if by magic. "You
guys are my friends for life."
"Why, Georgie," one of them simpered. "I didn't know you cared."
"You'll have to choose between us, though," the other said owlishly.
"I'm not going to be a partner to bigamy."
Then they both laughed. "Look, he's blushing."
"Aw, I am not," Hanlon spluttered. "It's just this pink skin-dye," he
added weakly.
"Anyway, here's your cat," the S S men got down to business, and
fetched the crate containing the beautiful animal. "We happened to
remember hearing that these people don't have milk, so we got you one
that's accustomed to a meat and vegetable diet."
"Gee, thanks for that. I'd completely forgotten that point."
Hanlon examined the big, black cat, and his mind reached out and
quieted its fright at the strange surroundings and this hairy being who
was now handling it.
He talked with the men for some further time, told them he had not yet
got any sure clues, but was beginning to get an "in" with some people
he felt sure would lead him to some. They told him the other three men
had reported about the same, although Hooper said the curve was rising
steadily on the belief that Terrans were behind the crime wave here.
"Yeh, I've heard that bilge, too. It's just another of the things we'll
have to stamp out before we can win out here. But we will."
"Sure you will," the two agreed. "Anything else you need?"
"No, can't think of a thing. The cat was the most important for now. It
will really get me in more solid with Yandor, the guy I'm working on."
"Hope so, Han. Well, cheerio."
"Safe flights, you guys, and thanks again."
On the ride back he was glad he had a tricycle instead of a two-wheeled
bike, for the crate was heavy and rather awkward with the cat in it,
shifting its weight about from time to time.
Back in his room once more, Hanlon released the animal, which
immediately dived under the bed, where it cowered in fright, having
seen and smelled the roches who were sleeping in various places about
the rooms.
But again Hanlon reached out and touched its mind, calmed its fear, and
soon had it out of hiding and creeping into his arms. It lay there,
purring, while he stroked it and impressed on its mind--whose texture
he learned while doing this--that it was safe and with friends.
After he had done that, he woke the roches. At first sight of the
feline a couple of them started toward it in curiosity. Swiftly
Hanlon took over their minds and halted them where they were. He then
brought each of them to the realization that this was a new friend and
playmate. That was not too hard, for the roches had never seen a cat,
and only its strangeness had made them curious.
He had more trouble with the cat, for the ages-old dislike and fear of
dogs was strong within it. But he finally calmed it by implanting the
knowledge firmly in its mind that these strange beings were not dogs,
actually, and that they meant it no harm, and all were to be friends.
Soon he was grinning at his ability, as he saw the nine animals eating,
drinking and playing together, as though they had been the best of
comrades all their lives.
"I'm really quite an animal trainer," he chuckled to himself as he
watched them.
* * * * *
_High above the strange being lay on its padded bench and frustrated
thoughts ran through its mind. It had noticed the two DIFFERENT minds
who again had come briefly to this planet in their ship of space,
talked with the three other different ones, and then had come to this
western continent in its night time. The mind "heard" them conversing
with that other but unreadable mind again, but still no sort of contact
could be made. Why? it wondered again. What sort of mind was it, that
it could not be touched?_
_Through its multiphased scanner the being carefully watched that
entity below which appeared so like an Estrellan native--but after
it had left on that peculiar conveyance, bearing a container with a
strange animal, sight of the entity had been lost among the crowds of
the city streets._
_So now the mind above seethed with questions, to which it could find
no logical answers, even though it was beginning to understand the
thought-concepts of those others it could "read."_
* * * * *
Late the next day--for Hanlon had quickly adopted the actors' habit of
beginning his day at noon--he fed and watered his animals, then got his
own meal and ate it.
Then he impressed on the minds of his roches that they were to behave
themselves, and not destroy things about the room in their play, and
not to make too much noise.
"Sure is handy to be able to do this," he smiled. "Boy, what a baby
sitter I'd make if I could control humans this way."
He called the cat to him, snapped on the harness and leash the S S men
had brought with it, and took it down to Yandor's office.
He had worked carefully on the cat's mind, and knew the characteristics
and texture thoroughly. He had practiced seeing through its eyes
and hearing through its ears under all conditions--from ordinary
daylight to bright carbides, from dusk to the blackness of a closet.
He felt certain he could use the animal as planned, under any and all
conditions.
"This is 'Ebony'," he explained to Yandor as he presented the cat. At
the same time he was impressing on the feline's mind that this was
to be its new master, that it must always obey him, and must allow
itself to be the man's constant pet and companion without hesitation or
animosity.
"'Ebony'," Hanlon went on saying to Yandor, "is the Terran word for
'black', and that is probably why its former owner gave it that name."
The impresario took the big, beautiful animal in his arms and
exclaimed over and over at its wonderful appearance, its sleek lines,
soft fur and intelligent face. But it was the cat's long, furry tail
that was his greatest delight. He stroked and petted it as though he
could not really believe such a thing was true. Hanlon was careful to
explain to Yandor how he must stroke _with_ the lay of the fur, and
never _against_ it.
"Well now, I can never thank you enough, my friend, for this marvelous
gift," Yandor said. "I hope it didn't cost you too much."
Hanlon made himself cough in an embarrassed manner. "Well ... er ...
it really didn't cost me ..." he grinned and left it at that, nor did
Yandor, after a knowing look, refer to the matter again.
Instead, he said, "It shall be the prize of my collection. I shall
treasure this above all others."
Yandor really was in the transports of delight, known only to
collectors who have made an unusual find. Hanlon read from the surface
of his mind the thought that this man was a wonderful friend, "and
probably no menace to our plans at all. I am sure we can trust him--and
use him."
The latter phrase delighted Hanlon, although he was careful not to let
his feelings show in his face. This was what he was after. He had only
to learn who "we" was. But he was making progress; he could really
begin to learn things.
"You do not need to keep the harness on Ebony all the time," he
explained aloud. "Just when you want to go out with him. In your home
or office, leave it off, as it is probably not too comfortable. I'm
sure," he decided to do a bit of direct suggesting, "that you'll soon
grow to love the cat enough so you'll want to keep it with you all the
time. It will lie on your desk, or in your lap, and be the finest sort
of companion."
"Yes, and be the envy of all my friends," Yandor swelled with
importance.
Hanlon explained rapidly about its feeding and drinking habits, and
that while it was house-broken it should be taken outdoors several
times a day. When he was sure Yandor knew how to care for the animal,
Hanlon left the office and went back to his rooms.
After the performance that night, Hanlon went quickly home and lay
down on the bed. He sent out a portion of his mind to contact that of
Ebony, which Yandor had taken to his own room and installed in a padded
basket, as Hanlon had suggested.
Through the cat's eyes he could see the interior of Yandor's bedroom,
and watched while the latter prepared for bed and finally dropped off
to sleep. Then Hanlon withdrew his mind, and did the same.
He had set the wake-up on his time-teller for fairly early the next
morning. Immediately upon awakening he sent part of his mind back into
that of the cat. All during the day--which he spent mainly lying down
or sprawled in his easy chair, when he was not preparing or eating his
meals, or attending to the wants of his roches--he watched Yandor at
his daily activities.
For the impresario, delighted with his new pet, kept the cat with him
all the time, even to taking it into the office-like study of his home
with him. There, as soon as they were inside, Hanlon made Ebony leap
up onto the table-desk, and curl up on the one corner. He wanted this
habit to become a permanent one--and it, too, delighted the Estrellan.
Now the cat was in the best possible place for Hanlon's spying while
Yandor was at home.
Later in the day, when it was time for the entrepreneur to go to his
downtown office, he put into effect another suggestion Hanlon had made.
He put the small, ornate harness Hanlon had given him for that purpose
onto the cat, snapped the leash to it, and took Ebony with him.
Dozens of Yandor's friends stopped him and complimented him--though
somewhat jealously--upon his acquisition, which made him prouder than
ever. For Ebony created such a sensation that it took Yandor nearly an
hour longer than usual to get to his office.
He had not yet reached there, in fact, when Hanlon was surprised and
a little nettled by a knock on his apartment door. Somewhat angrily
he got up off the bed, and went and opened it. A native was standing
there, grinning.
"What d'you want?" Hanlon growled querulously.
"Boy, are you in a temper this morning?" a voice said in Terran, while
the grin grew lop-sided.
"Morrie!" Hanlon yelled, throwing his arms about the other. Then, over
his shoulder, he noticed a number of his neighbors peering out of
their doors, or standing about in the hall, listening, and knew with
a sinking feeling that they must have heard the Terran words, and be
wondering about them. His mind raced, then he spoke even more loudly in
Estrellan.
"My brother, it is such a surprise to see you here. How did you happen
to come from Lura to visit me?" Then he dragged the surprised S S man
into his room, and shut the door.
"What gives? Why that 'my brother' routine?"
"Noticed the neighbors gawking, and knew they had heard us talking
Terran. But I sure am glad to see you, even if I was so curt at first.
Was concentrating on a job, and didn't like being interrupted just
then."
"Oh, sorry. Want me to come back later?"
"No, no, it wasn't really that important." Hanlon was silent a short
moment while he disengaged the part of his mind that was in Ebony, and
brought it back into his own. "Come on, take that chair. Go ahead and
gab while I get dressed."
Manning did as requested, and they talked seriously for some time, each
bringing the other up to date on all they knew about their part of this
business, and what they were planning.
In particular, Hanlon told Manning about the local aspects of the work
of the criminal elements, and what he suspected as well as what he
actually knew and had done.
"I'm almost certain now," he said, "that the criminals and the folks
who're trying to keep Estrella out of the Federation are tied in
together, but I haven't any real proof ... yet. But I think I soon will
have, with the line of investigation I'm on."
"We've about come to the same conclusion," Manning said thoughtfully,
"but we haven't any more proof than you have, if as much."
Hanlon told him about stopping Auldin's "wrecking crew", and a few
other possible leads he had uncovered to local men who seemed to be in
on the activities here, especially one Ovil Esbor, a local politician.
"He's a sort of gang-boss or district captain," Hanlon added, "but I
think he has quite a lot of fingers in different illegal pies."
"I'll get right at it," Manning said. "The admiral--he sent his
regards, by the way--said we were to work together as closely as
possible, and that you would feed me leads whenever you got 'em--as I
will you."
"Sure, I will. Maybe I'm sticking my neck out, trying for the big
fellows and asking you to take care of the smaller fry, but it
seems...."
"Think nothing of it, little chum," Manning waved his hand airily. "As
long as we clean out his hoo-raw's nest, I don't care how we do it,
and I'm ready to work at anything. The admiral said--and what you've
told me clinches it--that I'd better be an aspirant for a spot in the
political set-up here, so I'll pretend I heard about Esbor, and go
right to him."
For another hour they discussed ways and means, and then Manning rose
to go, after telling Hanlon where he was living here in Stearra.
"We'll see each other every few days," he said.
As soon as Manning was gone, Hanlon threw himself on the bed and again
sent part of his mind back into that of the cat, now with Yandor in the
latter's office. And Hanlon kept it in Ebony's brain all the rest of
that day and early evening. But nothing in which he was particularly
interested happened--and he was beginning to wonder if his ideas about
Yandor were right after all. Nothing but legitimate theatrical business
had been transacted all day--at least while Hanlon was watching. There
had been those two hours or more while Manning was at his rooms....
During the time Hanlon was on the stage that night, he had to
concentrate all his mental faculties on his roches, and had to withdraw
from the cat's brain. But once back in his dressing room and while
going home and after he got there, Hanlon watched carefully the party
the impresario gave to a group of friends in his palatial home.
Through the cat's eyes Hanlon carefully studied each one of the guests
and listened avidly to their talk--and at times had to tighten his
control of Ebony's mind and muscles to keep it acting friendly toward
some of those people. They seemed to "rub its fur the wrong way" ...
and did, literally, on occasions. Also, they had an effluvia Ebony
distinctly did not like.
But under Hanlon's compulsion, it continued to act in as friendly a
manner as cats usually do ... most of the time with customary feline
indifference.