Man of Many Minds, E. Everett Evans [online e reader txt] 📗

th' rest of us don't?"

"None of you will be harmed because of your part in the plot His Highness Gorth Bohr was scheming. That is broken, and we know you were all just his tools. All any of you will be tried for are your actions as regards the Greenies. If brutality against them is proven, you'll be properly punished for that alone."

He turned to Philander. "Are the natives all right?"

The man looked up hopelessly, unable to believe Hanlon's statement about himself. "How do I know?" his voice was dispirited. "When the Corps captured us, they dragged us from wherever we were working, and as far as I know left the Greenies untended. They've probably all run back to the woods."

Hanlon looked at his father. "I'm going out to look. I have a feeling ..." and he walked out without saying more. Nor was he greatly surprised to see the natives all sitting or standing quietly in their compounds, some feeding from the fertilizer Hanlon was glad to see was still being fed them, others merely resting, waiting.

The gates, of course, were unlocked and wide open, so Hanlon walked quickly back to the hut his crew occupied and stepped inside the doorway. While waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness he saw a figure launching itself at him. But as he quickly stepped back outside, in case it was an attack, he saw that it was Geck.

"You came back, you came back!" the native was babbling telepathically in an excess of joy. "When the new humans came and took the old humans prisoners, me said it was your work. Me knew you would come. Me tell other Guddu to wait for you here."

"What about those near the places where the ships were being built?" Hanlon's mind asked anxiously. "I tried to get into contact with them but couldn't."

"Many of they were killed, yet most ran to forests when great fires that destroy were started," was the sad response.

Hanlon was silent a moment, then telepathed again. "There is no need for you all to stay here any longer. Tell all your people to go back to their forests, for they are all free."

Geck turned to the other natives who were crowding close, and Hanlon could see him talking swiftly with that peculiar-looking little triangular-shaped mouth. Soon his mind was suffused with a tremendous wave of joy and ecstasy, and they began dashing out. Hanlon could see them talking to the natives in all the huts, and in moments all the natives except Geck were streaming happily toward the nearby forests.

Hanlon turned to Geck. "I'd like to have you stay with me or where I can reach you for a while. As soon as we can get straightened around, we'll make arrangements to do anything we can for you."

"Me stay with friend An-yon," Geck said simply, and Hanlon was glad and proud of that friendship with this strange alien.

They walked back to the mine office, and there Hanlon told his father about what he had done with the natives.

Admiral Newton was intensely interested, and frankly studied the strange, weird Geck. It was his first sight of these "vegetable" creatures. "Animated trees," Hanlon had first called them, although now they were so familiar to him, and he knew them so well that he thought of them, naturally and without question, as "people."

The young Secret Serviceman explained to the elder about the frequency-transformer he had built—but dismantled before leaving Algon. He suggested that specialists be sent here to see what could be done about teaching the natives any of the things they might want to know.

"But don't let them try to force the Guddus into a mechanical civilization," he pleaded. "Let 'em grow in their own way, and make what progress they can in whatever way comes natural to them."

"Of course," his father agreed quickly. "That's the way we always work with such primitives. We tell them and show them what we have, but only give them what they specifically ask for, whether we think it is what they 'ought to have' or not. Don't worry, your friends will be in good hands. But," there was a peculiar light in his eyes, "I sure would like to watch an autopsy on one of them. A vegetable brain ..."

"Yes, it would be interesting," Hanlon admitted, "but I'm glad you treat them that way." He turned back to Geck and explained, telepathically, as best he could.

"You stay here with we," the Guddu asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, but I have other work to do," and then, as he saw how the other lost heart. Hanlon hastened to add, "I have to go help other enslaved peoples on other worlds."

"Then us not try to keep you. But us hope you come to see we many time."

"I'll do that, Geck my friend, every chance I get."

Chapter 25

"We've got a problem here," Admiral Newton said as they followed the marines who were taking the mine operatives to the cruiser to be taken back to Simonides for their trials.

"I know it," Hanlon said thoughtfully. "The Guddus are too high in the scale for the planet to be colonized, and too low at present to be admitted to the Federation as true members. Yet they have immense wealth and resources the Federation can use, and something will have to be done to protect them from thieves and others who might again try to enslave them."

"That will never be allowed again. We'll have to make some sort of a treaty with them, probably establish a small base here, and perhaps make some arrangements to mine their ores—if we have anything we can give them in repayment. I imagine you'd better hold yourself in readiness to head the commission that comes to handle that treaty."

"Gee, thanks for that, Dad. They're such swell people when you get to know them. Ordinarily they live like 'children of nature,' in the forests, without need of homes or tools or anything. They feed from the elements in the soil, so there's no food problem. We did give them nitrates here, but that was because they had exhausted the elements in the dirt floors of their prison huts. In the woods that won't be needed. Oh, well, when we get technies here, with transformers, we can find out what to do with them."

"I'm going back to the fleet now," the elder SS man said. "I suppose you want to go back to Simonides to handle the details of the trials of these men. Incidentally, what about this ... Philander, did you say his name was? Why don't you think he'll need punishment?"

Hanlon explained rapidly, finishing, "So you see, with some psychiatric treatments, I'm sure that inferiority can be cleaned up and then he'll be a real asset to us or whoever hires him." A sudden gleam came into his eyes. "Say, if we make that treaty with the Guddus, he'd be just the man to take charge here, under Corps direction."

"Well, run along and see to it, then. 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. "I still think I'm too much of a kid for so much responsibility."

"Quit looking for sympathy." It was an affectionate growl.

"Okay, then. Safe flights, Dad—see you on Sime soon."

"Yes, I'll probably be there a day or so after you. Safe flights."

Once the cruiser was in space, and the pressure of acceleration abated, Hanlon sent word to the guards to bring Philander to his cabin. When they had done so, he excused them, saying he would be responsible for the safety of their prisoner.

"Sit down, sir," Hanlon said kindly to the wondering man.

"What's this all about, Hanlon?" Philander puzzled. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I was assigned to find out what it was centering on Simonides that seemed inimical to the peace of the Federation. The trail led me to Algon."

"Where you used me to further your schemes, eh?" the tone was bitter.

"Please, Mr. Philander, don't misjudge me until you know all about it. First, let me ask you, did you know who 'His Highness' really was?"

The mining engineer shrugged. "You probably know already, so why ask me? Prime Minister of Simonides, of course ... but you said 'was'?"

"He's dead now. Did you also know he wasn't human—that he was an alien from some ..."

"Not human? You're crazy. He was as human as any of us."

"When we get back I'll show you a full-length X-ray of him if you wish. He was planning the conquest of our entire Federation and Galaxy. The Corps experts are still working to find out just what the details of his scheme were, but that much we do know. Did you know about all the warships he was building on Algon?"

"Ships? On Algon?" The surprises were coming too fast for Philander to adjust to them.

"Yes. Did you think your mine was all there was there? We know of nine mines of one kind or another, a number of factories, smelters, and three great shipyards. Incidentally, everything is now in the hands of the Corps."

Philander shook his head in stupefaction. "I'm not calling you a liar, sir, but it's hard to believe you. I knew there were several mines, but not that many, nor about the rest."

"It's all true enough. And I'm still 'George' to you, my good friend, not 'sir'."

That was a little too much for the older man. "What a mess I've made of my life," he groaned.

Hanlon was intensely sorry and sympathetic, but in a way he was glad to see this present mood. It would undoubtedly make easier what he wanted to do. He went over, sat on the arm of Philander's chair and put his arm about the other's shoulder. He gently touched that terrible scar. "When and how did you get this?"

Philander shrank away from him, but the story raced across the surface of his mind, and Hanlon read it.

When he (Philander) was about eight, a gang of boys were playing about an old, tumbled-down building, and somehow knocked out the prop holding up its remains. Three others were hurt, Philander got that cut-scar, and his brother was killed.

"And you've felt all these years you were to blame for his death!" Hanlon exclaimed. "When we get back I'm going to have the best plastic surgeon remove that scar, so it will no longer be a constant reminder. Then a top psychiatrist will give you some therapy, and help you get your mind at rest. After that you'll be ready to take your place in society as a very valuable citizen."

"You forget what's going to happen to me because of my part in this plot," Philander was still bitter and unconvinced.

"Nothing's going to happen to you—you weren't guilty of anything except having been hypnotized by an alien supermentality," Hanlon said convincingly. "I'll see to that, myself."

Philander looked up in surprise. "You mean you ... a young fellow like you ... can tell the ..."

"Not exactly," Hanlon interrupted with a grin. "But this was my assignment, and my recommendations will govern. The main thing is, will you consent to the plan I've suggested?"

Philander sat for long, thoughtful minutes, then looked up piteously. "If you only can do it!"

When the cruiser reached Simonides and Hanlon had seen the other mine workers safely in the Corps prison at Base, and Philander installed in a room next to his at the hotel, he called Admiral Hawarden.

"Congratulations on the mop-up, which I understand was one hundred point oh oh oh percent," the officer said.

"Yes, the other end's under control. How about Bohr's notes?"

"They finished last night. We've got a complete list of all the underlings who knew any of the main parts of the conspiracy, and the SS agents have jugged them all."

"Good work."

"You did a grand job, sir. Again, my congratulations."

"Thanks, Admiral Hawarden. I've got to get busy now, on my report to the Council."

"Call on me for any help I can give. I'd offer you my confidential secretary to dictate them to, if it wasn't so secret."

"Thanks. She would be a big help, but we'd better not."

"How'd you know it was a 'she'?"

"Even a pigeon can admire a shapely shape," Hanlon quipped as he disconnected.

The young SS man was just finishing his report the next day when Admiral Newton walked into his hotel room.

"Gosh, Dad, am I especially glad to see you this time!" his son enthused. "I need you to check this report."

"Let's