Man of Many Minds

by Robert Donald Locke

  Chapter 15

  Hanlon was sitting at his usual place in the mine one day when one ofthe barrow-men ran up and spoke swiftly to Geck, who turned to Hanlon,alarm on his face. "Big boss man come."

  Hanlon jumped to his feet. "Get everyone to work; tell them to act realbusy!" he snapped. "You, too!"

  He thrust the frequency-transformer into a hole prepared for just suchan emergency, grabbed up his shock-rod and stepped closer to thenatives. He was standing there, to all appearances strictly on the jobof making his charges work, when Philander came crawling up the riseinto the pocket where this crew was mining the glossy, lustrouspitch-blank uraninite ore.

  "How're things going?" the superintendent greeted Hanlon with at leastthe appearance of friendliness.

  "Just fine," the young man responded. "Everything's under control."

  "Been looking over the reports, and see your crew is getting out moreore'n any of the others," the super's voice held just a tinge ofanxiety, and Hanlon began probing that mind to see if he could discoverjust what all this portended.

  "I just keep 'em at it," he shrugged.

  "No trouble?"

  "Nope, no trouble. Look at 'em," he waved his hand at the busy crew.

  The big man regarded them closely, and could see that every single oneof the natives was working at what he knew was their top speed, andwithout a single slacker. Even the barrow-men were moving almost at ajog-trot rather than the lazy saunter most natives used in an effort todo no more than they were forced to do.

  Philander shook his head wonderingly. "How d'you do it?" he asked. "Theother guards have to keep shocking one after another of the lazy dogs,yet you've made no move at a single one--and they keep right onhustling. I've never seen a crew work so hard."

  Hanlon wanted desperately to tell him, but he decided the time was notyet. So he merely shrugged the question away as of little consequence."I dunno, sir. I just stand around watching 'em, and they work." Hegrinned into the super's face. "Must be my manly charms--er sumpin'," hechuckled. Then sobered. "Maybe one reason is that I rotate 'em. Any jobgets monotonous, so every hour or so I let 'em change around, from pickto barrow to sorting, and so on."

  A frown of annoyance came onto Philander's face, but he quickly erasedit. After all, this man was getting out more ore than the others, andthat was what he was here for. How he did it didn't matter so much,after all, as long as he kept up his record.

  But Hanlon, reading those surface thoughts, knew that the official wasstill very suspicious--and vastly worried. Hanlon knew he had to disarmthe super some way, to get him out of that mood. He decided his air ofnaivete could still do the trick.

  "Mr. Philander, sir," his voice was very ingenuous, "I don't want to pryinto anything that's none of my business, but would you mind telling mewhat this stuff is we're getting here? It isn't anything dangerous, isit? I mean, it isn't one of those ... those radium ores that make afellow sterile, is it? I may want to get married some day, so I don'twant to take any chances."

  The mining engineer looked at him blankly for a moment, then threw backhis head and laughter rolled out until it seemed to fill the stope.Hanlon watched the other's mind clear itself of all suspicion ... atleast for the time being.

  Philander rested his hand companionably on the younger man's shoulder."No, it's nothing like that, so you can quit worrying. And the bonusyou'll get, if you can keep up this output, will fix you so you canafford a wife when your time's up and you go back to Sime."

  "Gee, that's good," Hanlon made his voice and face show how relieved hefelt. "It had me worried, even though I haven't got a girl yet."

  The superintendent seemed in good humor now. Hanlon caught the thoughtthat this punk was a good guard, and bright, and he did get the stuffout. The plan of rotating the workers was good--he'd order the otherguards to use it. This Hanlon probably was no menace to their planshere, after all. In fact, maybe later they could use him on the biggerjob. He (Philander) would so recommend to His Highness when he made hisnext report.

  After a few more casual words the super left, and Hanlon sank back ontohis favorite lounging place, thinking very seriously and contemplativelyabout this whole matter.

  Again he had run into that thought about someone called "His Highness,"but never any indication as to who the man was, or what position heoccupied. It was now apparent that this individual was the man he wouldhave to ferret out, whose plans he would have to learn before the Corpscould take any really effective action.

  He certainly hoped that one was the top man. It was going to be hardenough to get a line on him--to say nothing of anyone even higher.

  One evening at dinner, some time later, Hanlon became aware that theguard, Gorton, was growling at him. He looked up in surprise, and forcedhimself to pay attention to the big man's words.

  "I ask ya, whatcha tryin' t' do, punk?" the small pig-eyes glared redlyat him, and the voice was harsh and bitter. "Try'n'a show up us otherguards? What'sa big idea, gettin' out more ore'n we do?"

  Hanlon stared back in amazement, and his voice when he answeredwas a stammer of surprise. "Why ... why ... I'm not trying to doanything ... except my job," he added more forcefully.

  "We been gettin' out a reg'lar three tons a shift," the ugly face wasshoved closer to his, and Hanlon shrank back from the stench of rawspirits breathed on him. "What'sa idea drivin' yer crew up t' three an'a half er four?"

  "I was told to keep my crew working, and I've been doing that ... andonly that!" Hanlon snapped. "And take your ugly, stinking face away frommine!"

  The disgust he felt at the brutality of these guards had made him sosoul-sick with them he wasn't going to take any guff from one of them.Even though Gorton out-weighed him by a good sixty pounds and probablyhad at least four inches longer reach, Hanlon wasn't afraid of him.

  Right now he was as much in the mood for a fight as the guard seemed tobe, for at Hanlon's words Gorton's huge, ham-like hand suddenly slappedout at the younger man. Hanlon wasn't able entirely to dodge safely,sitting as close as they were. His head rang from the terrific blow. Hegrabbed his cup of steaming coffee, and threw it backhand into Gorton'sface.

  Bellowing in pain and anger, the guard jumped up, upsetting the bench,and almost Hanlon with it. But the younger man was agile, and kept hisfeet. As Gorton rushed, his long, heavy arms flailing, Hanlon duckedaway and jumped back far enough to get a firm footing on a cleared spaceof floor.

  All Corps cadets were well-trained in both Marquis of Queensburyboxing, Judo and no-holds-barred barroom brawling. He knew all thequestions ... and all the answers.

  So Hanlon stepped back in quickly. While Gorton was out of position fromthat abortive mighty swing, he drove his fist to the wrist into the bigman's soft belly. As Gorton doubled up with an explosive grunt, Hanlonswung from the heels. His uppercut caught the big fellow flush on thejaw, and staggered him.

  But Gorton could take it, and charged again, roaring curses. By sheerweight he bore Hanlon back across the floor, and got in a couple ofheavy blows. Hanlon's right cheek was badly bruised, and that eye almostclosed. But he was fighting methodically, almost viciously. He was inand out, slashing and ripping Gorton's face to shreds.

  The other guards had been yelling their delight at the fight, and theirhatred of the brash newcomer who was destroying their easy set-up. Itwas plain they were all on Gorton's side, and hoped to see Hanlon getthoroughly whipped.

  "Bat his ears off, Gort!"

  "Pound some sense inta him!"

  "Show him who's top man aroun' here!"

  One of them was not content with yelling. As Hanlon stepped to one sideto avoid another of Gorton's rushes, this guard stuck out his leg andtripped Hanlon, who fell backward. Instantly Gorton was on him, and agreat heavy-shod foot shot out in a kick that would have broken Hanlon'severy rib. But the SS man was watching for just such tricks. His feetsnaked out and hoisted Gorton so high and so far that when he landed hecrashed like a great falling tree. Hanlon jumped to his feet and swungto confront his foe
. But Gorton's head was bleeding badly, his eyes wereclosed, his face contorted. He was out like a burnt match.

  Instantly Hanlon sank to his knees by the fallen man, gently raising thehead and yelling for cold water and a towel. When the cook came runningwith them, Hanlon worked as swiftly to revive the guard as he would havedone for his friend.

  The other guards were so surprised at this act of mercy they sat likedull clods. But a couple of the engineers rose and came swiftly to helpHanlon. One of the checkers ran to Philander's office for the first aidkit.

  The men were working desperately to stanch the flow of blood whenSuperintendent Philander came running in with the clerk and the kit.Taking in the situation at a glance, he demanded an explanation.

  "Th' punk jumped Gort an' tried t' kill 'im!" one of the guards yelled,but was shouted down by the engineers, the checkers and the cook beforethe other slow-witted guards came to their senses enough to corroboratetheir fellow's mendacious claim.

  The senior engineer explained fully and concisely what had actuallyhappened. "Yet after all that, the kid was the first to help him, eventhough Gorton started the fight for no reason."

  Just then the fallen guard groaned and began to regain his senses. Themen helped him to his feet. He blinked for some moments, as thoughtrying to figure out what had happened to him, then remembrance came.

  "Why, that little squirt, hittin' me wit' a chair!" he yelled, andstraggled to get at Hanlon again, nor did the men have an easy timeholding him back.

  Philander planted himself squarely in front of the angry man. "Shut up!"he blazed, and the tone of command halted the big fellow; he staredstupidly at his boss, as though disbelieving his ears. "You keep yourhands off Hanlon!" the super emphasized his words by tapping Gorton notgently on the chest. "I hear of any more of this, and it's the jug 'tilthe next ship comes, then back to Sime."

  He whirled to face the table. "That goes for all the rest of you rats,too! If Hanlon does his job better'n you, it's 'cause he's a better man.Try to match him--don't go gunning for him!"

  "He your pet, Pete?" one asked mockingly.

  "No, he's not my pet, Pete," the super's voice mimicked the tone,although his face went red at the accusation. "I just don't want thiscamp messed up with any feuds. That'd cut down production, and the BigBoy wants this ore out fast. If Hanlon can work his crew faster'nharder'n the rest of you, you'd a blasted sight better find out how hedoes it, not try to cut down his take. How'd you like to go back to Simeand try explaining to His Highness why you're not getting out as muchstuff as's been proved possible?"

  That stopped them cold. Hanlon, watching their faces and reading theirminds, saw them shiver at thought of having to face that fearedindividual--whoever he was. They were more scared of him than of theDevil--that was evident.

  The men resumed their eating without another word--that threat had cowedthem as no amount of physical chastisement or other punishment couldpossibly have done. Philander set about sewing up and binding Gorton'shead-wound and his cut and bleeding face.

  Hanlon resumed his own seat after washing up and treating his ownbruises with the cook's help. As he ate he sought mind after mind in thevain endeavor to discover any possible scrap of information about thisenigmatic, unknown Highness.

  But he drew blank after blank, as far as definite data wasconcerned--just as he had always done. The surface thoughts of each manthere showed plainly their fear of that implacably cold and viciousbrain, but none of them held a picture of him.

  They knew no excuses for failure were ever accepted. They knew terriblepunishments were certain to follow when anyone was luckless enough toincur that monster's displeasure.

  But Hanlon shivered, himself, as he saw how clearly those hardenedcriminals feared that mysterious man's displeasure. He quailedmomentarily at thought of what would happen to him if he were caughttrying to locate that man and his plot.

  Hanlon knew a long moment of utter discouragement. There was so much hehad to know before he could lead the Corps in clearing up this mess.There had been so many mentions of a "main plot" that he knew thisillegal mining and slavery was but a small part of what was ... whatmust be ... going on.

  No, he would just have to keep on trying, keep on working. On secondthought, he had done pretty well so far, at that--he felt he had a rightto feel good about that.

  But he wasn't done yet, by a whole tankful of fuel.

  The problem stayed with him even in sleep, but in the morning he had anidea.

  As soon as he got his crew down into the mine and working, he got outthe frequency-transformer, and called Geck to him.

  "Can you find out what is happening on other parts of Guddu?"

  The native's answers stunned him.

  "Yes, An-yon, all we can mind-talk with any Guddu anywhere. What youwish to know?"