Robert Heinlein - Sixth Column

"Stand where you are," Jeff said quietly.

The man whirled around, then shoved the goggles up on his forehead. He stood for a moment, blinking at the light.

Quite suddenly a vortex pistol appeared in his other hand. "Don't make any sudden moves, Pop," he snapped. "This is no toy."

"Alec!" Jeff called out. "Alec! Wake up."

Alec sat up, at once alert. He glanced around and dived for his staff. "I've got us both screened," Jeff said rapidly. "Now you grab him but don't kill him."

"Make a move and you get it," warned Johnson.

"Don't be foolish, my son," Jeff answered. "The great god Mota protects his own. Put down that gun.

Without wasting time on speech Alec was setting the controls on his staff. It took him some time; he had had only practice drills in the use of the tractor and pressor beams. Johnson watched him fumbling, looked uncertain, then bred at him point blank.

Nothing happened; Jeff's shield soaked up the energy.

Johnson looked amazed; he looked still more amazed and rubbed his hand a moment later when Alec snatched the gun from his hand with a tractor beam. "Now," said Jeff, "tell us, my son, why you saw fit to violate the mysteries of Mota?"

Johnson looked around at him, his eyes showing apprehension but still defiant. "Stow that Mota stuff. I wasn't kidded.."

"The Lord Mota is not mocked."

"Stow it, I tell you. How do you explain that stuff?" He hooked a thumb at the communicator.

"The Lord Mota need not explain. Sit down, my son, and make your peace with him."

"Sit down, my eye. I'm walking straight out of here. If you birds don't want this place swarming with slanties, you won't try to stop me. I wouldn't turn in a white man unless he made trouble for me."

"You are implying that you are a common thief?"

"Watch what you call me. You guys have been throwing gold around; anybody is bound to take an interest in it."

"Sit down."

"I'm leaving."

He turned away. Jeff said, "Nail him, Alec! -- but don't hurt him."

The injunction slowed Alec down. Johnson was halfway up the stairs before Alec snatched his feet from under him. Johnson fell heavily, striking his head.

Unhurriedly Jeff got up and put on his robes. "Sit on him, Alec, with your staff. I'll reconnoiter." He went upstairs, was gone a few minutes, and returned. Johnson was stretched on Alec's cot, dormant. "Not much damage," Jeff reported. "The upper door's lock was merely picked. No one was awake; I relocked it. The lower door's lock will have to be replaced; he used something or other that melted it. That door really should have a shield; I must speak to Bob about that." He glanced at the figure. "Still out?"

"Not really. He was coming to; I gave him sodium pentothal."

"Good! I want to question him."

"So I figured."

"Anesthesia?"

"No, just a babble dose."

Thomas nipped one of Johnson's earlobes with a thumbnail and twisted viciously. The victim stirred. "Darn near anesthesia -- must be the knock on his head. Johnson! Can you hear me?"

"Mmm, Yes."

Thomas questioned him patiently for many minutes. Finally Alec stopped him. "Jeff, do we have to listen to any more of this? It's like staring down into a cesspool."

"It makes me want to .vomit, too, but we've got to get the dope." He went on. Who paid him? What did the PanAsians expect to find out? How did he report back? When was he due to report next? Who else was in the organization? What did the PanAsians think of the temple of Mota? Did his boss know that he was here tonight?

And finally: what had induced him to go against his own people?

The drug was wearing oil' now. Johnson was almost aware of his surroundings, but his censors were still down and he spoke with a savage disregard of what his hearers might think of him. "A man's got to look out for himself, doesn't he? If you're smart you can get along anywhere."

"I guess we just aren't smart, Alec," Thomas commented. He sat still for several minutes, then said, "I think he's told us everything he knows. I'm trying to decide just what to do with him."

"If I give him another shot he may talk some more."

Johnson said, "You can't make me talk!" He seemed unaware that he already had talked.

Thomas struck him across the face with the back of his hand. "Shut up, you. You'll talk whenever we give you the needle. Right now you'll keep quiet." He went on to Alec, "There is a bare chance that they might get more out of him if we shipped him back to base. But I don't think so and it would be difficult and dangerous. If we got caught with him or if he escaped, the jig would be up. I think we had best dispose of him here and now."

Johnson looked stunned and tried to sit up, but Alec's staff kept him pinned to the cot. "Hey! What are you talking about? That's murder!"

"Give him another shot, Alec. We can't have him raising Cain while we work."

Howe said nothing, but quickly made the injection. Johnson tried to squirm away from it, then struggled a little before he gave in to the drug. Howe straightened up. His face was almost as disturbed as Johnson's had been. "Did you mean that the way it sounded, Jeff? If so, I didn't sign up for murder, either."

"It's not murder, Alec. We are executing a spy."

Howe chewed his lip. "It wouldn't bother me a bit, I guess, to kill a man in a fair fight. But to tie him down and butcher him, like he was a hog, turns my stomach."

"Executions are always like that, Alec. Ever see a man die in a gas chamber?"

"But it is murder, Jeff. We don't have the authority to execute him."

"1 have the authority, Alec. I am a commanding officer, acting independently, in war time."

"But consarn it, Jeff, you didn't even give him a drumhead court-martial."

"A trial is for the purpose of establishing guilt or innocence. Is he guilty?"

"Oh, he's guilty all right. But a man's entitled to a trial. "

Jeff took a long breath. "Alec, I used to be a lawyer. The whole purpose of the complicated structure of western jurisprudence in criminal matters, as built up over the centuries, has been to keep the innocent from being convicted and punished through error. It sometimes lets the guilty go free in the process, but that's not the purpose. I don't have the personnel nor the time to form a military court and give this man a formal trial -- but his guilt has been established with much more certainty than a court could possibly establish it and I don't propose to endanger my command and risk the ultimate outcome of the war by extending to him the protections that were devised to protect the innocent.

"If I could cut out his memory and turn him loose to report back that all he found was a screwy church and a lot of hungry people eating, I would do it, not to avoid the chore of killing him, but because it would confuse the enemy. I can't possibly turn him loose --"

"I didn't want you to do that, Jeff!"

"Shut up, soldier, and listen. If I turn him loose with the knowledge he has gained, the PanAsians will get it, the same way we made him talk, even if he tried to hold it back. We haven't the facilities to keep him here; it is dangerous to ship him back to base. I intend to execute him now." He paused.

Alec said diffidently, "Captain Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you call up Major Ardmore and see what he thinks?"

"Because there is no reason to. If I have to ask him to make up my mind for me I'm no good on this job. I've just one thing more to add: you are too soft and mush-headed for this job. You apparently think that the United States can win this war without anyone getting hurt you don't even have the guts to watch a traitor die. I had hoped to turn this command over to you shortly; instead I am shipping you back to the Citadel tomorrow with a report to the commander-in-chief that you are utterly unfit to be trusted with work in the face of the enemy. In the meantime you will carry out orders. Help me lug that hulk into the bathroom. "