Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ENOUGH ROPE il came to a certain door. This he en- tered, to find a colonel of Intelligence seated among his instruments. The colonel bowed low. The little being in the chair merely cowered. “What planet is this from?” grunted Hurulta. “‘Nobody told me that.” The small one spoke up in a fluting voice that could not hide his terror. He was a skinny, four-armed, greenish being, with a bulging-eyed head that seemed too big for his body. “Please, lord, I am from—” “I didn’t ask you,” barked Hurulta, snapping at him. ‘The oversized head rocked back on the spindling neck, and the prisoner began to cry. ““Well?” “From Aldebaran VIII, lord,” said the colonel. “A League planet. His name is Goln, and he is a trader who has operated in this sector for a num- ber of years. We pulled him in, to- gether with all other aliens, according to your orders, lord, two days ago. No physical duress was necessary—in panic, he’submitted to the usual truth- finding procedures. It turned out that he is a Patrol agent.” “That much I have already been told,’ snorted Hurulta. ‘‘What of it? Why should that concern me? He hasn’t learned anything of value, has he?” “No, lord, not about us. He was a trader too, as he claimed. He merely reported to Wing Alak from time to time, telling him whatever he had learned anywhere. Under our ques- tioning, he revealed a distinct impres- sion that Alak is interested in Umung.”’ ‘“Umung...hm-m-m-... the in- sectiles, aren’t they? About thirty light-years off, on the edge of our cluster.” “Yes, lord. He has traded with them for many years. They are a completely organized race, with little individual personality, but the collective intel- ligence is high. They are also, perhaps, the most skillful workers in the galaxy.” : “Yes. It comes back to me now. . Did Alak intend to organize them against us?” “Not as far as this Goln knows, lord. They are totally unwarlike, have too little initiative to make good soldiers. Goln’s impression is that the Patrol would like to deal with them, secretly, trading raw materials difficult to obtain on their world for finished products. That would, obviously, sim- plify the enemy supply problem.” “So... it... would.” Hurulta stood in thought for a moment. Then, whirling on Goln, he made his voice a roar: “All right, scum, how well do you know Umung?” The Aldebaranian shrieked in utter panic. When he found his voice again, he gasped: “‘Well, most excellent lord. I know it w-w-well—” “You'll obey us and be rewarded, or you'll be pulled apart cell by cell. Which shall it be?” “I. . . obey, my lord. The ps-s-s- sychomachines w-will show how well I m-mean to obey—”’ “Good. I want you to prepare a dossier on Umung. Use the machines to help you remember everything. Correlate it with all information avail- able in Intelligence files. Submit the complete report to me within an eight-day.” “IT... I will try, l-lord—” Hurulta turned back toward the door. No one dared speak to him as he went down the corridor, but his mind was busy. Umung—yes. It had real possibil- ities. From all he had heard of it, Umung was a treasure chest. He had to prevent Alak’s using it, of course— But the Patrol! As long as they were in this vicinity, he could not declare war on the League. That might be just the excuse they wanted. He’d fight them if he caught them, but until ga CoOmMmichooksjco im