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.”