The doctor, notified by the truck's short-wave, was waiting in the
admiral's office to give Hanlon the shots of antidote and attend to his
wounds. He had barely finished when a waiter brought food.
These two gone, Hawarden felt free to demand of Hanlon, "Open up,
please. What's this all about?"
"Full coverage?" Hanlon asked meaningly.
The admiral flipped a couple of toggle switches on his desk. "There is
now."
"I'll tell you the story in a bit, but there are several more things to
be done, fast."
He described the location of the hidden spacefield. "Get some scouts out
there quick, but if the freighter's not ready to leave, have 'em keep
hidden and merely watch it. I don't want anything done until just before
take-off--it's important we arrest _all_ of its crew and passengers."
"Right!" Admiral Hawarden turned to his communicators, and orders rapped
out.
"You'll have to tell me procedure here, sir, for I don't know how to get
what I need. I want to recommend that the entire Corps fleet rendezvous
near here immediately so we can go to a planet called Algon, and take it
over. But first we'll have to find out exactly where in space Algon is.
May I talk with your planetographers, please?"
The admiral looked at him quizzically. "You haven't been in the SS very
long, have you, Hanlon?"
"No," the young man looked up in surprise. "This is my first assignment.
Why do you ask?"
"Because in emergencies such as this you give orders, not ask for
permission. Every resource of the entire Corps is yours to command when
you feel it necessary."
"Why ... why, I didn't realize that," Hanlon shrank back in
astonishment. "You ... you mean they'd let a pup like me issue commands
to the whole Corps?"
"They certainly would, sir. I don't know if you realize it yet or not,
but no one gets into the Secret Service unless the High Command is
pretty sure they are exceedingly high-powered individuals. So whatever
you want, just yell. I am entirely at your service."
There was a moment of incredulity in the young man's eyes, then he
straightened, and that depth of character which the men in command had
foreseen came to the surface, and he issued crisp orders. "Very well,
sir, I'll take you at your word. Please connect me with the
planetographers, then get me the High Admiral."
Hawarden activated the intercom, and when a face appeared on the screen
ordered, "Give this young man any information he wants."
"Do you know a planet named 'Algon' or 'Guddu'?" Hanlon asked. "It's
about twelve and a quarter light years distant, right ascension about
eighteen hours, declination around plus fifteen degrees. Here's a rough
chart of what I could see from there." He held up to his screen a sheet
on which he had been busily, marking such super-giant suns and nebulae
as he remembered. "... You don't know it? Then find it immediately. Rush
it through. I must have its closest approximation inside of two hours!"
He closed that switch and looked up as Admiral Hawarden handed him a
microphone. "Grand Fleet High Admiral Ferguson is awaiting your orders,
sir."
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.
"The enemy--and I don't yet know entirely who they are, although the
Prime Minister of Simonides was one of the top men, if not the actual
head--are building a great fleet there. They already have at least
thirty-two capital ships in building, and each one of them is about
twice the size of our largest battleship. Yes, that's right--twice the
size. However, as near as I could find out, none of them are yet far
enough completed to fly, and perhaps not even to fight. They also have
nearly a hundred medium and light cruisers, and over two hundred smaller
ships--scouts, destroyers and so on. Many of those latter two
classifications are fully completed and at least partially manned.
"That fleet must be captured or destroyed before they can get it
finished. I know you realize that better than I, sir, but it must be
taken care of immediately.... Oh, no, sir, you can't just blast the
planet. There are natives there that are high enough in the cultural
scale so the planet cannot be colonized, but they must be freed from the
slavery under which they are now held. They are fine, friendly
people.... You'll rendezvous the fleet immediately? That's fine, sir.
Oh, one more thing, please notify SSM Regional Admiral Newton to send
all available SS men here at once. There's a lot of cleaning up to do
here on Simonides.... Thank you, sir, I hope I was in time with this
information."
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.
"I'll talk while I eat, if you'll pardon the discourtesy, sir," he
began, picking up knife and fork. And as he ate he gave Hawarden as full
an account of the situation as he could, except for references to his
mental abilities and the part they had played.
The admiral listened attentively, and when Hanlon paused at what seemed
the end of his narrative, the officer straightened with determination.
"Then the thing to do now is to find out who all is in back of this.
That's why you asked for all available SS men, I understand that. But
about His Highness--was he top man?"
Hanlon knit his forehead in concentration. "I ... don't ... know," he
said slowly. "No one ever spoke of anyone as his superior. He's the man
they were all afraid of...." He paused a moment, then said, even more
slowly, "I've a peculiar hunch. I wish you'd have your best physicians
examine that body. Have 'em use X-rays and fluoroscopes, rather than an
autopsy. I'm not entirely convinced he was a human being."
"What?" There was incredulity in that question. "What gives you that
idea?"
"Sorry, sir, I can't give you my reasons just now," Hanlon's face
flushed, and his eyes were appealing. "It isn't that I don't trust you,
sir, but there's one secret I feel shouldn't be told now. Maybe
later--and if I do tell it to anyone outside of SS men, you will be the
first--you deserve that."
"Right, sir. I didn't mean to prowl," the admiral showed no resentment,
much to Hanlon's relief. "Your orders go, as I said."
He touched a stud on his desk and when the doctor's face appeared on the
screen, gave the necessary orders. "Look carefully to see if the
internal arrangement of bones and organs is human--but do not cut
without specific orders."
"What about the emperor, sir?" Hanlon asked. "You've undoubtedly formed
some sort of opinion about him."
"He was a wonderful soldier and executive as a young and as a
middle-aged man," Hawarden said thoughtfully and, Hanlon sensed, sadly.
"It was his grandfather who pulled the original coup that made this
planet into an empire with himself as first emperor. His son, the second
emperor, was also a very good co-ordinator, and solidified the empire
status. The present emperor went into the army at sixteen, and rose
rapidly through sheer merit rather than because his father was emperor.
All historians agree on that. Just before he reached thirty he was in
full command. He was thirty-six when his father died, and he became the
third emperor."
"Then you think he may be back of this whatever-it-is?"
"No," the admiral shook his head. "Somehow I can't quite feel that way.
During his first years as emperor he was one of the most co-operative of
all Planetary rulers within the Federation."
"What about his Prime Minister ... and by the way, what was his name? I
never heard him called anything but 'His Highness'?"
"His name was Gorth Bohr. He seems to have appeared from nowhere almost
overnight--as an important personage, I mean. We've traced him back, and
he came to Simonides about fourteen years ago, from Sirius Three. He's
been Prime Minister for about ten years and it has been noticeable that
he has gained more and more power during the past few years, as the
emperor has been failing both physically and mentally."
"I wonder ..."
"Yes?"
"D'you suppose that failing health and mind could have been caused,
instead of natural?"
The admiral was plainly taken aback. "What? Caused?"
Hanlon nodded. "Just that. From what little I know of His Highness he
was just the kind to do a thing like that--and capable of it, too." He
sank back in deep thought for some time, as did Hawarden. They were
interrupted by a buzzer from the desk. The admiral sat up quickly and
switched on the intercom. "Yes?"
"Bohr certainly was not a human being," the doctor reported, and Hanlon
could see the surprise and wonder on his face in the screen. "There are
structural differences so far removed from ours that they could not
possibly be Homo Sapiens."
"Any idea where he came from?" Hanlon asked, and the admiral relayed the
question.
"Never saw anything like it before, and I've just made a quick search
through all my books here that contain pictures and diagrams of the
races of which we know."
Hanlon shook his head in resignation and Hawarden, after thanking the
doctor and giving orders for the disposition of the Prime Minister's
body, disconnected.
"Is it too late to get an audience with the emperor?" Hanlon sat erect.
The admiral glanced at his wrist chronom. "Pretty late, but I'll see."
He had just reached for a switch when his call buzzer sounded, and when
he activated the screen the planetographer reported, "We can't find any
such system on our charts."
Hanlon's spirit sank. "Keep looking!" he ordered. "Check with the
astronomers. It's somewhere around there--I just came from that planet.
The sun is hot--looks like Sol from inside Venus's orbit, although I
don't think it's as large as Sol."
Hawarden then put through his call to the imperial palace, his position
as local head of the I-S C getting him fast service. After some haggling
with the emperor's secretary, and his insistence that it was a matter of
the utmost importance that could not wait until morning, he was finally
told His Majesty would see him.
"Got it," Hawarden rose. "Come along."
Hanlon started toward the door, then looked down at his torn and dirty
clothing. "I'm not very presentable."
"We can get you a uniform from the barracks."
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. "We need your
clothes in a hurry for this man. Quick," as the young man hesitated.
Hanlon was already removing his own. "I'll give you a hundred credits
for them, Roberts, but this is prime urgent."
The other laughed then, and started pulling off his suit as fast as he
could. "A hundred'll more than buy me a new one--it's a good bargain."
The exchange was quickly made. Hanlon gave the clerk his money, then he
and the admiral hurried to the palace, where they were ushered without
delay toward the emperor's private study.
"Watch me fairly closely," Hanlon whispered as they were walking down
the hall. "If I shake my head, he's lying."
Admiral Hawarden's eyes widened, and though he said nothing, he was
thinking, "This is certainly the most amazing young man I've ever met.
Where does the SS get 'em?"
They had barely entered the study when a door on the far side of the
room opened, and the emperor came in, leaning on the arm of an aide. He
sat down heavily behind the ornate desk.
"Well well well," he barked pettishly. "What's all this about, sir?
What's so important you have to get me out of bed?"
"I am most sorry to have put Your Majesty to such inconvenience,"
Admiral Hawarden said diplomatically, "but you will soon see that this
is, indeed, most urgent. It is also very secret, and I respectfully
request we be permitted to speak with you alone."
The emperor waved his hand impatiently, and the aide retired from the
room.
Admiral Hawarden set a small box on the desk and turned on a switch.
"Just a portable spyray block," he apologized.
"I know, I know," came the exasperated voice. "Get on with it, man, I'm
tired."
"Permit me to introduce George Hanlon, of the Corps. We have, first, a
bit of sad news to give Your Majesty, and then some questions we most
urgently request you to answer as fully as you can."
The emperor did not look pleased at this suggestion that he be
questioned, but said nothing.
"Your Prime Minister, Gorth Bohr, was killed a few hours ago, Sire."
"What?" The emperor sat upright, his face showing the utmost
incredulity, but Hanlon's mind-probing had prepared him for the
reaction, so he was not surprised to note neither dismay nor regret.
For the monarch suddenly sank back into his chair, and a long, loud
suspiration of relief came from him. He closed his eyes and his face
finally relaxed a bit. Suddenly he sat bolt upright. "Are you sure?" he
barked.
"Positive," the admiral assured him. "The body is at Base, and has been
for several hours."
"How did he die?"
"He was stung to death by bees, Sire," Hanlon answered.
"Bees?" incredulously.
"That's right, Sire. He and three of his men were attacked by a swarm of
bees in one of the basement rooms of his palace, and died within
minutes."
The emperor was silent for moments, mind roiling. Then he shook his head
as though almost not daring to believe this news.
"It may sound strange, Hawarden," he said at last, "but I do not think I
was ever as glad of anything in my life as I am of this. He was an evil
thing, though I did not even begin to suspect it until years after I
appointed him my Minister. By the time I felt sure, it was too late. He
had ... gotten some sort of a hold over me ... I no longer seemed to
have a mind or will of my own any more."
The admiral risked a glance at Hanlon, who nodded agreement.
"Do you know what he was planning, Your Majesty?"
"Planning? Planning? You mean something else beyond ruling Simonides
through me, or possibly supplanting me entirely?"
"I'm afraid he was, Sire. Did you know he was secretly building a great
war fleet on another planet?"
There was an almost-imperceptible pause before the answer was barked
out. "Nonsense, sir. That I can't believe!"
Hanlon shook his head. The emperor was lying now. Why? Was he
part--perhaps head--of the plot?
His mind-probing had not yet reached an answer to those important
questions. They would have to question him skillfully to make him think
of the things Hanlon so desperately needed to know.