Chapter 20
The twentieth part of Hanlon's mind activating the pigeon in theventilator, commanded it to scramble back out the moment he sensed whatthat command would be. But it wasn't quick enough.
He felt the burning sensation along the bird's side, and the agony itsuffered. The wing had been almost severed by the shot, and its life wasswiftly ebbing.
He had to get out of that body and quick ... but there were no morepigeons around except the other nineteen he was already occupying. Nordid any of them have brain capacity enough to contain more than atwentieth of his mind.
Desperately he sent the rest of the flock swirling into the air, seekingother life-forms nearby. There were no other pigeons close enough tohear their calls nor to get there in time if they did, for the woundedbird was dying fast.
Nor were there any dogs about, nor cats, nor animals of any kind to beseen. In desperation Hanlon even tried the trees or plants there, to seeif they had minds like the Guddus--but none of them did.
He dreaded to think what would happen if the brain that a portion of hismind was occupying died while in his control. Would that part of hismind then be lost? He had no way of knowing, nor was he anxious tochance it, for he was terribly afraid it would be so. And he certainlyhad proved he had no mind to spare, he thought in disgust. He had reallymade a mess of this mission. The only way he could get word to the Corpswas through his body, and if he sent his mind back into that now he wasa deader duck than he seemed to be. For even that twentieth part couldbe made to talk.
_Why didn't those pigeons hurry?_
Yet he knew they were searching frantically. This was the weirdestsensation imaginable. People had often expressed the wish they, could bein two places at once ... he was in twenty. And each body was connectedwith the others by a thin thread of consciousness, yet was thinking andacting independently.
His composite mind almost grinned. If anyone had told him a year agosuch a thing was possible, he would have called for the paddy-wagon andrushed that person to the nearest nut-house.
The other parts of his mind were flying all about the enclosed park thatwas a part of the great palace, searching, desperately seeking someother form of life that could be used as a housing for the dying part ofHanlon's mind.
Suddenly one of them uttered a cry that drew the rest to it on swiftpinions, to see attached to one of the trees a huge swarm of Simonideanbees.
"Will the queen do?" the one mind-portion asked anxiously.
There was a convulsive shudder in all the minds, for the birds knew--andHanlon had heard--how deadly poisonous these native bees were; how theywere hunted down and exterminated when found. They were twice the size,and many, many times more vicious and deadly than Terran bees. Even nowtwo gardeners were running toward the tree with a great metal net andflame-throwers.
But Hanlon was desperate. "She will have to do," the aggregate minddecided.
Instantly, then, the part of his mind in the dying bird detached itselfand entered the brain of the Queen Bee. There were long, dishearteningmoments of twisting and struggling to fit into that strange, viciousinsect brain. He finally managed to take control, yet was not fully enrapport. Sight through her multi-faceted eyes was very nearly impossiblewith the little time he could give to learning their texture.
But the close rapport between the various portions of his mind was agood guide. The Queen flew swiftly towards that ventilator, her swarmfollowing closely at her command.
Into and through the vent she flew, and almost before the four meninside were aware of the strange buzzing, she was directing her swarmtowards them.
"Bees!" Panek yelled in terror, and the four started fighting thehundreds that swarmed all over each of them. That may have been theirmistake--had Panek and the other two stood perfectly still it was a barepossibility they might have survived, although in Hanlon's grimlydetermined frame of mind that was now doubtful.
Not that Hanlon was angry, even at Panek for the terrible beating of hisunconscious body. For he realized it was the man's cruel, sadisticnature; that he could not have acted otherwise.
But Hanlon knew now that the peace of the Federation demanded that helive and be free to make his report, and only the death of His Highnessand the others could now possibly save him.
So, much as it sickened him, Hanlon had to keep on, and as thosebee-stings plunged in their hundreds into the four, the poison workingfar more swiftly than does the venom of Terrestrial bees--more akin tothat of the mamba--one after another of the four fell to the floor andwere quiet--stung to death.
Hanlon then sent the Queen and her swarm back outside, after firstimpressing on her mind that she must fly far away if she was to survive.He could not send her to her death by the gardeners after she had savedhis life.
As she flew away he recalled his mind back from her and the nineteenbirds, into his body. He sat erect once more--but instantly such a tideof pain washed over him that he nearly fainted. For all the agony ofthat terrible beating hit him at once.
His mind, too, was sluggish and slow once it was back in his own brainwhere that drug had taken effect. But he felt a sense of satisfactionand gratitude that he had come safely thus far through that terribleordeal. The drug would wear off, the wounds would heal, and the painwould disappear in time. Meanwhile, he was alive ... impossible as itseemed, he was _alive_!
But George Hanlon had enough mind-power functioning in spite of thetruth-drug, to realize he was not yet out of the pit. His body was stillmanacled to the chair, that in turn was fastened to the floor so hecould not move it.
He was still inside the palace of the conspirators, and it wouldundoubtedly not be too long before someone would enter the room seekingHis Highness, and would find him and the dead men.
For desperate minutes Hanlon considered every angle of the matter, andfound only one possibility that might offer some chance of release andsafety.
Once more he sent a portion of his mind out through the ventilator andfound one of the pigeon-like birds still nearby. Again he tookpossession and crowded into its tiny brain all of his mind it wouldhold. Then the bird was swiftly winging its way up and over the roofs ofthe palace, into the dusky sky.
High in the air it floated on out-spread pinions while he surveyed thecity beneath him, hunting for landmarks. He quite easily located thedowntown section because its lights were being turned on now thatevening was here.
That oriented him, but the fact that it was so late brought dismay.Would the Corps officers have gone home? And if so, how could he locateany of them, tonight, with whom he could possibly communicate? He hadnot thought of that before--he had been thinking of himself as a man,not as a bird.
But even as these baffling thoughts and questions were plaguing him, hewas flying as swiftly as the bird's wings would carry him, directlytowards the great building that housed the Corps' contingent here onSimonides.
Actually, it was only minutes until the bird was outside the greatstructure, and rapidly looking into windows. Lights were blazing inalmost every room, and Hanlon's mind knew thankfulness that so many ofthe high officers were still at work.
Window after window the bird peered through in furious haste, searchingfor an admiral's office. If it could get inside, Hanlon had thought ofseveral ways in which it might communicate ... providing the admiral wasnot an orthodox brass hat.
But, he told himself to maintain courage, any man who could gain as higha position as any of the various types of admirals would have had toshow his resourcefulness time and again. You just didn't get that highin the Corps otherwise.
Luck and persistence achieved his ends, for he finally located theoffices of the Planetary Admiral, himself, and that officer and hissecretary were still inside at work.
Hanlon made the bird land on the window sill, and then begin tappingwith its beak on the glass. Time and again it did this, until the twoinside, attracted by the sound, looked about for its source.
"Look, Admiral Hawarden, it's a pigeon, tapping on the window,"
thesecretary laughed.
"Must think there's something to eat in here," the officer grinned back.
"It really acts as though it was trying to attract our attention," thegirl commented a few seconds later.
"Hmmm, I wonder," the admiral spoke half aloud, then as the bird kept upits purposeful tapping he recognized the Inter-Stellar code S O S.Quickly he rose, went to the window, opened it, and stepped back.
The bird, showing no fear of the humans, entered and flew to his desk.The secretary had also risen, and now shrank back against the wall, herhand at her mouth stifling a scream.
"It's magic," she said in fright. "No bird ever acted like that."
"It certainly is unusual," he said, and his eyes were puzzled. "I can'tmake it out."
The bird flew toward the officer, and with fluttering wings poised inthe air before him, its beady, bright eyes peering directly into his.Then it flew toward the door. When the admiral made no move to follow,the bird repeated the performance.
"It seems almost as though it wanted me to go somewhere with it," theofficer said in a dazed manner. "Are we dreaming this, Thelma?"
"I ... I don't know, sir. We ... we must be," she stammered. "It justcouldn't be possible otherwise."
But now the bird apparently noticed something else in the room, for itflew over to the secretary's desk and alighted on it. It hopped up toher electro-writer.
That was too much. The girl rushed over, waving her hands. "Shoo!" shescolded. "Get off my desk, you crazy creature!"
But Admiral Hawarden was no fool. This was far beyond any experience hehad ever had, but there was such a purposefulness in the bird's actions,strange and unusual though they were, that he felt this little dramashould be played out without interruption.
"Leave it alone!" he commanded sharply in a tone that startled her, sodifferent was it from his usual polite manner.
Looking at him in astonishment, she stepped back, and watched with himthis unprecedented action.
With its foot Hanlon made the bird throw the little switch thatactivated the writing mechanism, and then with its beak began pecking atthe keys. Luckily there was paper in the machine, a letter she had notfinished. The admiral stepped up to where he could see, but waved thegirl back when she started to follow. It seemed impossible that the birdcould write anything sensible ... but the admiral was beginning to benot too sure of that.
His eyes opened wide with surprise as he saw the letters appear one byone on the paper:
a n d r m a 7
No longer did he doubt. How it was possible, the future might tell. Buthe did know the significance and the urgency of that message. He rippedthe paper from the machine and pocketed it, then jumped to his desk andflipped the intercom switch.
"Captain Jessup! A company of marines, in full armor and all weapons, atthe main gate in trucks in two minutes. _Hipe!_"
He ran to a cabinet in one corner of the room and threw open the door."Come and help me!" he commanded the astonished girl, dragging his ownlong-unused space armor out and starting to climb into it. With her helphe was completely encased in the minute, and was strapping on hisweapons. "You can go home now," he told her.
He turned to the desk where the bird was watching with its beady eyes,and held out his arm curved at the elbow. With a quick swish of wingsthe pigeon launched itself toward the suited figure and rested on theout-stretched wrist.
The admiral plunged through the door and into the hall, where hisprivate elevator waited. "Ground!" he yelled, and the bird was liftedfrom his wrist by the sudden plunging descent, but fluttered back androde that wrist as the admiral dashed out of the elevator, through thehalls and out the front door to the waiting, marine-filled trucks.Willing hands hauled him aboard the lead truck, and he threw the pigeoninto the air.
"Follow that bird!" he commanded, and the incredulous driver did so,wondering secretly if the Old Man had suddenly gone bats.
When he saw beyond doubt the bird's destination, Admiral Hawardengasped, but he was too old a campaigner to be stopped now. There wassomething here that needed himself and his men, and he would go throughwith it, no matter where it led.
He knew the calibre of the men of the Secret Service, and while he couldnot know how it was possible for one of them to train a bird in such amanner, he knew his job was to back up whatever that high-poweredindividual was doing.
As the trucks skidded to a halt at the entrance of the Prime Minister'sornate palace, he issued swift commands. His men, disregarding theindignant cries of the palace guards, who swarmed out to stop thisunbelievable invasion of their rights, deployed to their designatedpositions, weapons at the ready.
To the officer of the guard who tried to bar his way, the admiralsnapped, "I'll apologize later. Now get out of my way!" Then, with asquad of husky marines at his heels, he followed the fluttering pigeonthrough the opened door, along a hall, and down some stairs.
But here the bird seemed at a loss, fluttering from door to door,seeking that certain room.
As Hanlon had so shrewdly guessed, Admiral Hawarden was no fool, butquick on the up-take. "Open all these doors!" his voice rang outcommandingly.
As fast as doors were opened--whether locked or not made no differenceto the marines--the pigeon darted forward and glanced into each onebefore flying on the next. Then it disappeared through one of thedoorways, and the admiral, who had kept as close to it as possible,yelled "Here!" and ran into the room, his men streaming after him.
"Welcome to out cozy nest, Mister," a voice from the depths of a bigchair called, and the officer ran forward to where he could see. "Youcertainly made time, and am I happy to see you soldiers. Get me out ofthese things," and Hanlon rattled his chains.
At the admiral's gesture the marines made short work of the manacles,and Hanlon stood up, tottered a moment and would have fallen but for thequickly extended friendly arm of the admiral. He was still groggy, eventhough the serum was wearing off. But he was almost in complete controlof his mind.
"We got here in time, then?" anxiously.
"Yes, thanks to my little friend here." Hanlon took the bird, and handedit to one of the marines, meanwhile impressing on its mind that it wassafe among friends. "Look after her." And withdrew his mind.
"She gets good care the rest of her life," the admiral ordered thewondering marines. "Wait outside."
Hawarden looked about the room. "Who are these men ... and what inSnyder's name happened to them?"
"They were stung to death by bees," Hanlon said, and there was a traceof vindictiveness in his voice. "One of 'em's the Prime Minister; theothers his gunmen."
"Great John!" the admiral breathed. "This'll raise a stink!"
"There'll be a bigger one before I get through," Hanlon was grim. "Getme back to your office, and get a doctor. They gave me truth serum, andit hasn't all worn off yet. And I'm hungry," he added so plaintivelythat Hawarden, accustomed enough to sight of death so it didn't affecthim too much, laughed.
"What'll we do with the bodies?"
"Guard the Prime Minister's closely. Merely notify the people here whereto find the others."
Hawarden called back two of the marines. "Bring that body with us," andthey left.
At the entrance the admiral recalled his men. To the palace officer hepartially explained. "The Prime Minister was killed, and we're takinghis body with us. There are three of his men, also dead, in Room 37-Bdown there. I'll notify the Emperor, and assume full responsibility."
He jumped into the truck's front seat beside Hanlon and the driver.
"Back to base!"
Man of Many Minds Page 20
