Formula for Conquest

August Q. Twilken had a formula, Freebooter Tod Mulhane had a nose for adventure and Mon Pordo had an urge for Interworld domination. When those three got together, hell had to explode—and did.
I have a formula, the little man said loudly.
I punched him ungently in the ribs and jerked my head toward the mangy crew whooping it up in the close confines of the ill-smelling Martian musk-parlor .
Shh. Not so loud, guy, I whispered from the corner of my mouth. This bunch would slit your throat in a minute, if they knew you had something on you that would bring a credit or two. I don't know what your game is, but let's go in the back room where we can talk without startin' someone's ears to burnin'.
I wrapped my arm around the guy's shoulders and steered him toward the back room, singing and laughing, as though I had an overload of Meez-musk and was feeling a little bit happy.
I didn't know what had brought the little fellow to me. I'd never seen him before yet he seemed to know me and had made his way directly to the bar where I stood and addressed me by name. Anybody that knew that much about Tod Mulhane, soldier of fortune, needed looking into, and I was determined to give this mild-mannered, shrimp of a man a thorough going over.
I bolted the door behind us and seated myself at the table always kept there for various games of chance.
Mousie nervously assumed a seat and sat staring at me, his big, milky-blue eyes blinking nearsightedly and a withered, vein-covered hand tweaking incessantly at a bedraggled gray mustache.
I'm Professor August Q. Twilken, he essayed. I have a formula.
And I'm Tod Mulhane, as you seem to know, and I have a couple of great big ears, open and waiting. What can I do for you, Twilken?
Twilken's face suddenly became grim and the milkiness left his eyes a moment, to disclose dancing, hard lights of determination.
Nothing for me, Mr. Mulhane, he said slowly. This is for the world! Yes, for three worlds!