"None at all," the leader smiled again. "We have mining engineers in charge. Your job would be merely to keep the natives working at top speed. It is ... uh ... unfortunate, that they are high enough in the cultural scale so we cannot, under the Snyder dictum, colonize their planet and work it ourselves. But we will chan ..." he broke off as though realizing he was saying too much, and Hanlon stiffened inwardly. This was a real clue. What planet was the man talking about? His most penetrant mind-probing could not get the answer from any of the minds there--to the others it was merely "a planet," nothing more. And this ape, with his perfect mental control, let nothing leak. But the leader had caught himself and gone on almost as though there had been no break, "... chance using you, I think. If so, your salary will be a thousand credits a month, plus all expenses. And a nice bonus every so often, depending on how little trouble you have with your crew, and how much ore they take out." Hanlon showed that gleam of avarice again. "Sounds very interesting." Then he leaned forward. "One, more thing. How long does the job last?" "For several years, if you want it, and if we continue to be satisfied with you. But we bring the men back every few months for a vacation. We find that best with most of them--the climate there is not too pleasant, and the conditions are confining." "Nothing to do but work, eh?" "Just about that. The shifts are about eight hours of our time, and between them you eat, sleep, read or play cards ... but you do not explore or anything like that! The ship goes there every three weeks, and we usually figure eighteen weeks there, then the three weeks back here. The guards and others rotate that way. They have a tendency to ... uh ... deteriorate if we don't." Hanlon let himself shiver, but grinned as he did so. "Now that's one thing I don't want to do--go nuts. Can't make any credits doing that." The leader raised his hand. "You understand, of course, there will be a short period of ... uh ... checking and testing before we decide to send you out on a job." Hanlon's voice was almost servile, yet confident. "Sure, sir. You name it; I do it." He was still probing with everything he had, but still getting nothing important. A couple of the men seemed to be chuckling about what might happen to him if he failed the tests--but he had guessed that much, anyway. Suddenly the leader leaned across the desk, and his genteel manner slipped from him like a discarded mask. His eyes became glacial ice. "Don't get any grandiose ideas in your head, Hanlon. We are not fools. Nor are we offering you a chance to get in on our complete plans. I am just, possibly, hiring you to do a simple job."