Robert Heinlein - Sixth Column

"I know that, boss. I didn't use any special tests when I sent you Estelle Devens. Of course I wouldn't have sent her if she hadn't been about to be shipped out as a pleasure girl."

"You did all right. Estelle is a fine woman. She helps Frank in the kitchen, she helps Graham sew the robes, and Bob Wilkie is training her as a pararadio operator." Ardmore chuckled. "Sex is rearing its interesting head. I think Bob is sweet on her."

Thomas's voice was suddenly grave. "How about that, boss? Is it likely to louse things up?"

"I don't think so. Bob is a gentleman and Estelle is a nice girl if I ever saw one. If biology starts getting in the way of their work, I'll just up and marry them, in my capacity as high priest of the supercolossal god Mota."

"Bob won't go for that. He's a bit of a puritan, if you ask me."

"All right then, in my capacity as chief magistrate of this thriving little village. Don't be stuffy. Or send me up a real preacher."

"How about sending up more women, Major? I sent Estelle on impulse, more or less, but there are many more young women just as badly in need of help as she was."

There was a long wait before Ardmore replied, "Captain, that is a very difficult question. Most reluctantly I am forced to say that this is a military organization at war, not a personal rescue mission. Unless a female is being recruited for a military function to which she is adapted, you are not to recruit her, even to save her from the PanAsians' pleasure cities."

"Yes, sir. I will comply. I shouldn't have sent Estelle. "

"What's done is done. She's working out all right. Don't hesitate to recruit suitable women. This is going to be a long war and I think we can maintain morale better with a mixed organization than with a strictly stag setup. Men without women go to pieces; they lose purpose. But try to make the next one an older woman, something between a mother superior and a chaperone. An elderly trained nurse would be the type. She could be lab assistant to Brooks and house mother to the babes, both."

"I'll see what I can find."

"And send up that watchmaker. We really need him."

"I'll give him a hypo test tonight."

"Is that necessary, Jeff? If the PanAsians killed his family you can be sure of his sentiments."

"That's his story. I'll feel a lot safer if I hear him tell it when he's doped. He might be a ringer you know."

"O.K., you're right, as usual. You run your show; I'll run mine. When are you going to be able to turn the temple over to Alec, Jeff? I need you here."

"Alec could take it now, just to run it. But as I understand it, my prime duty is to locate and recruit more 'priests,' ones capable of going out in the field and starting a new cell alone."

"That's true, but can't Alec do that? After all, the final tests will be given here. We agreed that never, under any circumstances, would the true nature of what we are doing be revealed to anyone except after we got him inside the Citadel and under our thumbs. If Alec makes a mistake in picking a man it won't be fatal."

Jeff turned over in his mind what he wanted to say. "Look, boss, it may seem simple from where you sit; it doesn't look simple from here. I --" He paused.

"What's the matter, Jeff? Got the jitters?"

"I guess so."

"Why? It seems to me the operation is proceeding according to plan."

"Well, yes -- maybe. Major, you said this would be a long war."

"Yes?"

"Well, it can't be. If it's a long war, we'll lose it." "But it's got to be. We don't dare move until we have enough trusted people to strike all over the country at once."

"Yes, yes, but that's got to be the shortest possible time. What would you say was the greatest danger that faces us?"

"Huh? Why the chance that someone might give us away, either accidentally or on purpose."

"I don't agree, sir -- not at all. That's your opinion because you see it from the Citadel. From here I see an entirely different danger -- and it worries me all the time."

"Well, what is it, Jeff? Give."

"The worst danger -- and it hangs like a sword over our heads all the time -- is that the PanAsian authorities may grow suspicious of us. They may decide that we can't be what we pretend to be -- just another phony western religion, good to keep the slaves quiet. If they once get that idea before we are ready, we're finished."

"Don't let it get you nervy, Jeff: In a pinch, you've got enough stuff to fight your way back to base. They can't use an atom bomb on you in one of their own capitals -- and Calhoun says that the new shield on the Citadel will stop even an atom bomb."

"I doubt it. But what good would it do us if it did? Suppose we could hole up there until we died of old age: if we don't dare stick our noses out we can't win back the country!"

"Mmm ... no -- but it might give us time to think of something else."

"Don't kid yourself, Major. If they catch on, we're licked -- and the American people lose their last chance this generation, at least. There are still too few of us, no matter what weapons Calhoun and Wilkie can cook up."

"Suppose I concede your point: you knew all this when you went out. Why the panic? Battle fatigue?"

"You can call it that. But I want to discuss the dangers as I see them here in the field. If we really were a religious sect, with no military power, they'd leave us alone till hell froze. Right?"

"Check. "

"Then the danger lies in the things we have to do to cover up the fact that we've got a lot of stuff we aren't supposed to have. Those dangers are all out here in the field. First --" Thomas ticked them off on his fingers, oblivious to the fact that his commanding officer could not see him. "-- is the shield of the temple. We've got to have it; this place can't stand a search. But it would be almost as bad if we had to use it. If any senior PanAsian gets the notion to inspect in spite of our immunity, school is out for sure; I don't dare kill him and I don't dare let him come in. So far, by the grace of God, a lot of doubletalk, and the liberal use of bribes, I've been able to turn them away."

"They already know that we've got the temple shields, Jeff; they've known it from the first day we made contact here."

"Do they, now? I don't think so. Thinking back over my interview with the Hand I'm convinced that that officer who tried to force his way into the mother temple wasn't believed when he made his report. And you can bet your last cookie he is dead now; that's the way they work. The common soldiers that were there don't count. The second hazard is the personal shield that we 'priests' carry. I've used mine just once and I'm sorry I did. Fortunately he was just a common soldier, too. He wouldn't report it; he wouldn't be believed and he would lose face."

"But, Jeff, the 'priests' have got to wear shields; we can't let a staff fall into enemy hands -- not to mention the fact that the monkeys might be able to drug an unshielded 'priest' before he could suicide."

"You're telling me! We've got to have them; we don't dare use them -- and that calls for some fast double-talk in a pinch. The next hazard is the halo; the halo was a mistake, boss."

"Why do you say that?"

"O. K., it impresses the superstitious. But the bigshot PanAsians are no more superstitious than you are. Take the Hand -- I wore it in his presence. He wasn't impressed; it was my great good luck that he apparently regarded it as nothing important, just a gadget to impress my followers. But suppose he had really thought about it and decided to find out how I did it?"

"Maybe," said Ardmore, "we had better omit the halo effect in the next city we penetrate."

"Too late. Our official designation here is 'holy men who wear halos.' It's our trademark."

"So? Jeff, I think you've done a wonderfully good job of covering up."