Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Cover Illustration] Bors felt as if he'd been hit over the head. This was ridiculous! He'd planned and carried out the destruction of that warship because the information of its existence and location was _verified_ by a magnetometer. But, if he'd known _how_ the information had been obtained--if he'd known it had been _guessed at_ by a discharged spaceport employee, and a paranoid personality, and a man who used a hazel twig or something similar--if he'd known _that_, he'd never have dreamed of accepting it. He'd have dismissed it flatly! * * * * * Aficionados of science fiction recognize and respect MURRAY LEINSTER as a writer of rare talent. His ingenuity of plot, his technical know-how and flight of imagination in TALENTS, INCORPORATED will go far to increase his stature and popularity as an exciting and thought-provoking storyteller. AVON BOOK DIVISION The Hearst Corporation 572 Madison Avenue--New York 22, N.Y. _TALENTS, INCORPORATED_ Murray Leinster Copyright, (C), 1962, by Murray Leinster. All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with the author. Printed in the U.S.A. Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Subscript characters are shown within {braces}. TALENTS, INCORPORATED _Part One_ Chapter 1 Young Captain Bors--who impatiently refused to be called anything else--was strangely occupied when the communicator buzzed. He'd ripped away the cord about a thick parcel of documents and heaved them into the fireplace of the office of the Minister for Diplomatic Affairs. A fire burned there, and already there were many ashes. The carpet and the chairs of the cabinet officer's sanctum were coated with fine white dust. As the communicator buzzed again, Captain Bors took a fireplace tool and stirred the close-packed papers to looseness. They caught and burned instead of only smouldering. The communicator buzzed yet again. He brushed off his hands and pressed the answer-stud. He said bleakly: "Diplomatic Affairs. Bors speaking." The communicator relayed a voice from somewhere else with an astonishing fidelity of tone. "_Spaceport, sir. A ship just broke out of overdrive. We don't identify its type. One ship only, sir._" Bors said grimly; "You'd recognize a liner. If it's a ship from the Mekinese fleet and stays alone, it could be coming to receive our surrender. In that case play for time and notify me." "_Yes, sir.--One moment! It's calling, sir! Here it is--._" There was a clicking, and then there came a voice which had the curious quality of a loudspeaker sound picked up and relayed through another loudspeaker.