Man of Many Minds

by E. Everett Evans

But the leader was answering, still in that gentle tone, as though nothing had happened. "So ... so ... that is good. I hate the thought of bloodshed, and I will not countenance roughness in actions or speech. It is regrettable, of course, that sometimes men are stupid enough to oppose us, but ..." and again that almost feminine gesture.

This was the silkiest, slimiest ... thing ... George Hanlon had ever encountered, and again his heart quailed for the moment. "If I was on my own," he shuddered inwardly, "I'd sure never team up with a guy like that!"

For there was no single iota of mercy or compassion in that ice-cold mind behind that gentle face—of that Hanlon was sure.

There was a long, pregnant moment of silence, while the five men studied Hanlon more carefully. Finally the man behind the desk spoke more slowly. "Perhaps—just perhaps, you understand, and nothing definite as yet—we may have a little job for you before long. On another planet. You have no objections to travel?"

"Not if there's a bundle of the stuff at the end of the trip, no," Hanlon grinned avariciously. But his mind was seeking answers. Why did they want to send him away? Was this a bona-fide job, or a trap? Should he go to some other planet? Would he thus get best leads? Perhaps—if it wasn't for too long a time, of course.

The leader smiled suddenly while Hanlon was thus thinking, and the rest grinned as though they had been waiting for his lead to relax their vigilance. "There will be a very large ... uh ... bundle." He paused a moment, then continued "We need more overseers on ... a certain planet. It is one that is rich in various metals. The natives mine it under our direction, and ..."

Hanlon interrupted. "I don't know a thing about mining. Will that make a difference?" Here, he thought swiftly, was the test. If they still wanted him—and had a reasonable answer—it might well be a bona-fide job.

"None at all," the leader smiled again. "We have mining engineers in charge. Your job would be merely to keep the natives working at top speed. It is ... uh ... unfortunate, that they are high enough in the cultural scale so we cannot, under the Snyder dictum, colonize their planet and work it ourselves. But we will chan ..." he broke off as though realizing he was saying too much, and Hanlon stiffened inwardly.

This was a real clue. What planet was the man talking about? His most penetrant mind-probing could not get the answer from any of the minds there—to the others it was merely "a planet," nothing more. And this ape, with his perfect mental control, let nothing leak.

But the leader had caught himself and gone on almost as though there had been no break, "... chance using you, I think. If so, your salary will be a thousand credits a month, plus all expenses. And a nice bonus every so often, depending on how little trouble you have with your crew, and how much ore they take out."