Man of Many Minds by E. Everett Evans (black books to read .TXT) 📕

of command halted the big fellow; he stared stupidly at his boss, as though disbelieving his ears. "You keep your hands off Hanlon!" the super emphasized his words by tapping Gorton not gently on the chest. "I hear of any more of this, and it's the jug 'til the next ship comes, then back to Sime."

He whirled to face the table. "That goes for all the rest of you rats, too! If Hanlon does his job better'n you, it's 'cause he's a better man. Try to match him—don't go gunning for him!"

"He your pet, Pete?" one asked mockingly.

"No, he's not my pet, Pete," the super's voice mimicked the tone, although his face went red at the accusation. "I just don't want this camp messed up with any feuds. That'd cut down production, and the Big Boy wants this ore out fast. If Hanlon can work his crew faster'n harder'n the rest of you, you'd a blasted sight better find out how he does it, not try to cut down his take. How'd you like to go back to Sime and try explaining to His Highness why you're not getting out as much stuff as's been proved possible?"

That stopped them cold. Hanlon, watching their faces and reading their minds, saw them shiver at thought of having to face that feared individual—whoever he was. They were more scared of him than of the Devil—that was evident.

The men resumed their eating without another word—that threat had cowed them as no amount of physical chastisement or other punishment could possibly have done. Philander set about sewing up and binding Gorton's head-wound and his cut and bleeding face.

Hanlon resumed his own seat after washing up and treating his own bruises with the cook's help. As he ate he sought mind after mind in the vain endeavor to discover any possible scrap of information about this enigmatic, unknown Highness.

But he drew blank after blank, as far as definite data was concerned—just as he had always done. The surface thoughts of each man there showed plainly their fear of that implacably cold and vicious brain, but none of them held a picture of him.

They knew no excuses for failure were ever accepted. They knew terrible punishments were certain to follow when anyone was luckless enough to incur that monster's displeasure.

But Hanlon shivered, himself, as he saw how clearly those hardened criminals feared that mysterious man's displeasure. He quailed momentarily at thought of what would happen to him if he were caught trying to locate that man and his plot.

Hanlon knew a long moment of utter discouragement. There was so much he had to know before he could lead the Corps in clearing up this mess. There had been so many mentions of a "main plot" that he knew this illegal mining and slavery was but a small part of what was ... what must be ... going on.

No, he would just have to keep on trying, keep on working. On second thought, he had done pretty well so far, at that—he felt he had a right to feel good about that.

But he wasn't done yet, by a whole tankful of fuel.

The problem stayed with him even in sleep, but in the morning he had an idea.

As soon as he got his crew down into the mine and working, he got out the frequency-transformer, and called Geck to him.

"Can you find out what is happening on other parts of Guddu?"

The native's answers stunned him.

"Yes, An-yon, all we can mind-talk with any Guddu anywhere. What you wish to know?"

Chapter 16

The knowledge that these Guddus of Algon were telepathic rocked George Hanlon back on his heels. That was a thing he had never even imagined. They were such a simple, almost childlike race, that such an ability was farthest from his thoughts.

"If you can talk with your minds?" he asked Geck in wonder, "why do you bother to speak with the voice to each other?"

"Because mind-talk more tiring to we," came the simple explanation. "It take much of we's forces. Us grow weak after much of them."

"That makes me hesitate to ask you to do any of it, then," the young SS man said. "I was hoping you could find out for me how many mines are operated on the planet, and if all of them are using you Guddus as slaves."

"Oh, yes, An-yon, me know that already," Geck's peculiar little face, which had become so friendly to Hanlon through long association, broke out into a smile that was quickly shadowed by sorrow at thought of the plight of his people. "There is nine mines. Human masters make Guddu work in all of they."

"Nine, eh?" Hanlon thought swiftly for a moment. "Do they all produce the same ores as this one?"

"Will have to find that for you, An-yon. You wait short space of time."

The Greenie grew silent and strained with concentration. Hanlon probed into the native's mind, wondering if he could follow it. And haltingly at first, but with growing ability as he learned the pattern, he found he could ride along on that telepathic beam.

The thoughts were far too swift for him to catch more than an occasional concept, but he was thrilled to realize he was actually telepathing, even though at second-hand.

One after another mind he could feel joining in that conference. There was much hostility and great fear when Geck first tried to explain about the human who was their friend, and had learned to talk with them. The Guddus on the other end of that "line" were tremendously skeptical, afraid, and very, very suspicious of the motives of any human being.

But Geck was eloquent and persuasive. Before long their fears began to lessen, and later they seemed to accept his assurance that "An-yon" was, indeed, both friendly and anxious to help them escape their slavery.

"The human An-yon is but one of the most of humans who are kind and just and ethical," he was surprised to hear Geck telepathing when he got so he could understand. "It is the few, such as those others who are here, who are not. These are bad men who come here just to get things for own selfish ends, and the good men, who are most, will stop them as soon as they can. An-yon come here just for that, to find out what those bad men do, and to stop them."

That speech was another shock to Hanlon—he had never told Geck all that.

The distant natives finally bowed to Geck's importunings, and gave him the specific information for which he was asking because the friendly human wanted to know it.

There were two other mines that produced the same uraninite ore as the one at which Hanlon was stationed. There were three iron mines, and Hanlon was not too surprised to learn that at each of these mines smelters had been erected. He learned that humans were used mostly in the mills, the natives being used only for outside labor because they could not stand the heat.

"We burn quickly," was the sad, horrified thought.

There were three other mines, but the natives did not know the English or Greek names for the metals found there. Even after considerable questioning by the roundabout "Hanlon to Geck to the Guddus back to Geck back to Hanlon" method, he still couldn't get that specific information.

"If it isn't tiring you too much, Geck, please ask them if there is any building going on besides the smelters at the iron mines?" Hanlon requested.

Soon other minds about the planet were coming in, and the story began to unfold—there were several factories making many machines. But none of the natives had the least idea what kind, or for what purpose they were being made.

"Think they are going to be put in great metal huts humans are making," one thought ran, and Hanlon quickly grabbed onto that.

"What sort of metal huts?"

"Things that look like huge eggs."

"Space ships, you mean?"

Another thought broke in. "Yes, they like ships human come in, but much greater."

Hanlon fumed. Oh, if only he could see ... but wait, maybe he could get the information he needed. "Ask if anyone is looking at one of those 'eggs' right now," he commanded Geck through the transformer.

"Yes, An-yon, many Guddu right at edge of great place of making. Brother of me, Nock, him there."

"Ask him, please, to describe what he sees. Maybe that will give me a good picture of what it is."

"Will be glad to try, but not knowing your language and having no compare your measurement to ours, am not sure can do what you wish," he felt Nock say.

This, too, surprised Hanlon. That native certainly had a real mind, to grasp that difficulty so well, and to realize the limitations of telepathic communications with one alien to his race.

"Please picture it in your mind as you see it, and use some common objects of the planet for comparison of their sizes," Hanlon urged through Geck's mind. "That way I think we can get along."

Almost instantly a picture of a gigantic egg formed in his mind, but with enough variations from an actual egg so that Hanlon realized it was, indeed, a space ship the native was viewing. Soon Hanlon saw a great tree pictured beside the ship, and at the base of the tree a native was standing.

Quickly Hanlon estimated. The adult natives he had seen were almost all about six feet tall. As nearly as he could judge that tree was a good fifteen times the height of the Guddu, and the ship was the same height as the tree, and nearly three times as long.

Wow! What a ship! But it must be wrong. Even the largest Corps' warships were nowhere near that huge. Nor were even any of the biggest freighters he had ever seen. He must be getting his measurements wrong.

He called Geck, using the transformer. "Are you seeing what I am in Nock's mind?"

"Yes, An-yon, and you is figure right. Is that big."

Hanlon slowly shook his head in amazement. If that was meant for a warship, it certainly spelled trouble for someone. He thought seriously for several moments, then telepathed Nock. "Is there more than one ship being built?"

"Oh, yes, there are many many." The picture built up of a whole row of ships, and Hanlon counted swiftly.

Eighteen!

For what purpose was such a fleet being built? Men would not defy the I-S C and the Federated Planets this way merely for business reasons, he felt sure. There certainly was a plot being hatched—and what a plot!

He felt Geck's hand on his arm, and heard his voice. "Are two more places where humans build many ship, An-yon. While you think me talk many minds. One place are fourteen more great ones. At other are many many many small ones five to ten Guddu long."

Shock on shock! Someone was building a tremendous fleet here! He must get that news to Corps headquarters as quickly as possible. If those ships were once finished, they would be able to dominate the system. For the Corps had only a nominal fleet. They had never needed a large one.

To the best of his knowledge the Corps had only thirty-one first-line battleships, much smaller than these. The Fleet also had fifty heavy cruisers, a hundred and fifty light cruisers, and a thousand scouts running from one-man up to twelve-man size.

"Please find out if any of those ships they are building have ever left the ground."

"Some little ones only," Geck reported after awhile. "Some few disappear into sky then come back after time, then do same again."

Trial trips, or training trips for the crews, Hanlon deduced.

Well, he had some data now, at least. Enough so that once he got that news to Headquarters they would attack this place in force great enough to stop this work ... IF ... he could get word to them soon enough.

"Let's see now," he figured quickly. "I've been here almost twelve weeks. That means another six or seven until I'm supposed to be eligible to get back to Simonides. Hmmm. Wish I knew how near finished those big battle-wagons are."

More moments of intense thought. "I don't dare take the chance of trying to sneak off to the yards," he reasoned logically. "I've got to do everything I can to make sure I get my trip back when my eighteen weeks are up. If I got caught off bounds that would ruin everything—I'd really be in a mess."

Also, even if he could get to the shipyards, the moment he was spotted trying to get inside any of those ships he would undoubtedly be killed by guards who would certainly shoot first and ask questions later—if any.

Nor were there any longer any native birds or animals left on Algon he could use—he had learned that the men had