Man of Many Minds Part 32

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...o...b..t, 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 a.s.sured 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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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.

Chapter 22