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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.
As the two went outside, the Simonidean asked curtly, "Wine, women or song?" "Why not some of all three?" Hanlon laughed lightly. "Anything you think would be a lively evening, and that you'd enjoy." The other unbent a little. "We'll go to the Phobos first, then. They have good liquor and a nice floor show. Good looking wenches who don't wear too much."
"My personal car to take Cadet Hanlon to the Simonidean Embassy, then return." At the Embassy, Hanlon reported to the receptionist, and was shown with due deference into one of the private offices, where he was introduced to several men, among them the Secretary he was to accompany.
Hanlon strained to review all this new knowledge quickly. Then, "I'm sure I have it all. Get civilian kit; hotel room; stocks and insurance; deposit boxes my own and 1044; sleep-learn Simonidean; 'Andromeda Seven'." "Correct. Now, you'll be interested in a little of the background of the Secret Service. It was John Snyder himself who organized it, shortly after the formation of the Snyder Patrol.
"Cover Abrams!" his voice rang out commandingly, and he himself jumped in front of the Secretary while others on the platform sprang up to completely surround the Simonidean, and hide him from possible further danger. Hanlon raised one of the tassel-whistles and blew a piercing blast.
Did cats or horses or birds or insects have brains that worked the same as the dogs? He would have to experiment to find that out, first chance he got. But now there was another very serious problem demanding his attention. He had made a wonderful start at getting an "in" with Panek, the Simonidean thug. Now, how could he best turn that to his advantage?
Others were from Grand Fleet, regarding the measures being taken for the fleet rendezvous, and the part the Simonidean sector was to play. Another was from the planetographers, giving the spatial location of Algon, with the note that they had finally found it on a star map, and that a survey ship was being sent there at once. Hanlon punched a stud.
They receive without scruple what they have learned without examination, and then transfer to the first article which they do look into, all the difficulties that belong equally to the former: as the Simonidean doubts concerning God to the Trinity, and the like. Ib. p. 27. Ib. p. 28.
Avidly he fastened onto it, merged with it ... and found himself inside the brain of one of those Simonidean pigeons. Ah! This is wonderful! Pigeons seldom fly alone. Where you find one you almost always find a number. Activating the bird's brain he sent out a call to others of its kind that it had found food in abundance.
As the latter turned to look, Hanlon's hand flashed out and hovered an instant over the other's cup. A few moments later the Simonidean played his part to perfection. He took a drink, then another, and almost before he had set his cup down, gave a groan, and clutched at his stomach and throat. He rose shakily, and tottered away heavily on the arm of an anxious steward who had come running up.
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