But still, despite every effort, contact with that mind could not be made.
After a time, therefore, with the utmost precision a thought was insinuated into the Estrellan mind constantly being held captive. The thought was seen to take hold, then its strength and urgency was increased.
Soon, although the native was at a loss to account for the reason why such a thought should come to him at that particular time, he nevertheless sent a note to a certain person, giving forceful orders that were to be obeyed immediately.
[CHAPTER 11]
At that thought, fear struck at George Hanlon's vitals, almost like a physical blow. What was planned for him?
For certainly if these unknowns were onto what the Terrans—or the Corps and the secret service—were trying to do here, and had already captured and tortured three of the four, they would not leave him free to continue working against them.
Cold sweat starting from all his pores, Hanlon sank into a chair, nails digging into palms. His bravado, his cockiness, his belief in his own superiority—all ebbed away like a swift-falling tide.
He had been used to working alone in the service. He had been mostly by himself on Simonides, and altogether alone on Algon. Yet he had not felt such an aloneness, such an absolute withdrawal of all support, as he knew in this awful moment.
For at the other places he could contact the S S through the safety deposit boxes, or by the "Andromeda Seven" password, and get almost instant response, and the entire resources of the Corps to back him up. And here on Estrella, while he had been working alone, he met the others occasionally, and the men with the Corps' sneakboat every fortnight. He had known they were there.