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George Hanlon's young hand was shaking as he took the mike, but his voice was steady and crisp. "Admiral Ferguson, sir, this is George Hanlon of the Secret Service. I was detailed to the Simonidean affair. I've just returned from a planet I know both as 'Algon' and as 'Guddu. The planetographers are checking now for its exact location.
I'll be going back in another few weeks, and the humans won't have any of those biggest ships ready by then. Those are the only ones we need to fear the little ships don't count." It was too bad Hanlon did not know what else the humans were building, besides ships, at the shipyards. Hanlon's campaign to "get in good" with Philander was bearing tasty fruit, for the two were becoming fast friends.
Their first examination was History, one of Hanlon's pet subjects, for he loved this story of Mankind, his ups and downs and gradual growth. When the examination papers were handed out and he noted the first question he smiled. If only they were all that easy. "Give briefly a resume of the events leading up to the formation of the Inter-Stellar Corps."
Just because there are some tricksters in that, as in all professions, you must not denounce them all." "They're all fakes, lady," and Hanlon's air of sincerity carried conviction to all but Aunt Abby. "How do you know?" she demanded angrily. "I've looked into it I've looked into all sorts of stunts like these. It's in my nature, I guess. And all professional mediums are frauds.
Naturally, Hanlon's were of a cheaper grade than the others, but whereas it might have been expected that the three society men would wear almost identical boots, they were decidedly varied. Each pair was correct in style, and the work of the best bootmakers, but the difference in the design of tip, side cut, sole and fastening was quite sufficient to prevent mistaking one for another.
His other hand eluded Hanlon's grasp, and with it Panek struck and jabbed heavy blows to Hanlon's face and body. Hanlon parried the blows as best he could, at the same time trying to make his low-voiced words penetrate. "Cut it out, you fool! I'm trying to help you, not hinder you! Stop it, blast you, and listen!" But he might as well have been talking to the metal walls.
Gee! it was some stunt!" This tribute of praise was wrung from Fibsy by the sudden realization that what he had for some time surmised was really true! "I guess it was that jam that did for you," he went on, "but, say, we ain't got no time for talkin'." Hanlon's eyes were already glazing, his breath; came shorter and it was plain to be seen the end was very near. "Who hired you?"
If it had been the emperor" Hanlon caught an impression of loyalty and love for that dignitary "or even the Minister" here he caught a feeling of doubt and some dislike "it might make sense. Just as I cannot figure out why I should have been sent here for this purpose. It's almost ..." he was silent, and Hanlon's probes found only puzzlement. "Nuts!" the young Corpsman felt frustrated.
By sheer weight he bore Hanlon back across the floor, and got in a couple of heavy blows. Hanlon's right cheek was badly bruised, and that eye almost closed. But he was fighting methodically, almost viciously. He was in and out, slashing and ripping Gorton's face to shreds.
Hanlon's thought was a gasp. He glanced at his chronom, and was amazed. He had been sure this battle had lasted for hours but it was less than ten minutes. It didn't seem possible ... but he quickly remembered what he had learned in school, and knowing something of those terrific powers unleashed there, the wonder was now that it had lasted that long. A speaker near them blared.
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