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Hanlon thought swiftly. "No, I'd better not chance it, although I'd sure like to." The admiral thought a moment, then stepped back to his desk and pressed a stud. "Roberts, come in here." A young man almost exactly Hanlon's size, wearing civilian clothes, came into the office. Hawarden grinned. "Those do?" The SS man smiled back. "Swell." "Strip," the admiral commanded the astonished clerk.
And Spence, did I remember to tell you how proud I am of you?" Hanlon hugged his father. "Thanks, Dad. I hope you always will be. I suppose the cruiser Commander will let me ride with him?" Newton smiled fondly. "Not 'let you, Son. You merely tell him you're going to go along. Admiral Ferguson assigned that ship to you on special duty." Hanlon's smile was embarrassed.
One seemed about forty-five, another in his late thirties, and the two others young men evidently not long out of school. They were clean-shaven, and friendly where the guards were surly and sneering at Hanlon's youth and slimness. There was an accountant, the store clerk, two checkers who tallied ore brought up each shift.
"Remove his coat and roll up his sleeve," he directed Panek, and the small part of Hanlon's mind still remaining in his body felt the latter doing so, and an instant later, the prick of the needle. Slowly at first, then with increasing swiftness he felt his remaining mind growing numb and his will weaken. His body slumped against the restraining manacles.
Hanlon broke the connection, then sank back into his chair for minutes, thinking seriously, and the admiral respected his silence. But after a time the smell of that delicious food made Hanlon's hunger and weakness reassert itself. Feeling he had done all he could at the moment, he sat up again, pulled his chair closer to the desk, and lifted the napkin from the tray.
Experienced in fake mediums, she believed Willy Hanlon's assertion that this man was one of the few genuine mystics, but she proposed to judge for herself. At last Marigny spoke. His voice was low, his tones monotonous and uninflected. "Aunt Abby Aunt Westminster Abbey" the words came slowly. Miss Ames gave a startled jump. Her face blanched and she trembled as she clutched Fibsy's arm.
"You're making a colossal mistake, sir," his voice was louder and angrier than it should ever have been. "If our regular instructor was giving this exam he'd never make such an accusation. I've led this class in grades all through school. And not by cheating, either." "Lower your voice, Mister, and don't talk back!" But Hanlon's mind-probing was receiving approbation now.
Something clicked in Hanlon's mind. "The emperor," he exclaimed. "Maybe we'd better have another go at him. I'll bet his mind's a lot freer from that compulsion now, and perhaps he can remember more of what Bohr sealed away from his conscious memory." Hawarden nodded. "That's a good bet. I'll arrange it."
"George Hanlon, you are hereby officially dismissed from the Inter-Stellar Corps' Cadet School!" So saying, Admiral Rogers ripped all identifying symbols from Hanlon's uniform, then turned again to the marines. "Take him outside the Reservation." They hauled Hanlon, still shrieking and cursing, out of the room, out of the building, across the park, and to the gate of the Corps' property.
He straightened and addressed Hanlon's body once more. "Can you still hear me, George Hanlon?" There was no answer, no slightest indication that his words were heard. He reached forward and lifted the body into a more upright position in the chair. "Answer me, George Hanlon. Do you hear me? I command you to tell me, are you a Corpsman?"
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