Sixth Column (12 page)

"Your forgiveness, sire!"

"Not for me-it is a matter for you to settle with your ancestors."

"I hear, sire!" He caressed the short sword which hung at his side.

"Let there be no haste; I intend for you to tell your tale in person to the

Imperial Hand."

The local Hand of the Emperor, military governor of that region which

included Denver and the Citadel, was no more pleased than his junior. "What

possessed you to enter their holy place? These people are childlike,

excitable. Your action could be the regrettable cause of assassinations of

many more valuable than yourself. We cannot be forever wasting slaves to

teach them lessons."

"I am unworthy, sire."

"I do not dispute that. You may go." The lieutenant departed, to join, not

his family, but his ancestors.

The Imperial Hand turned to his adjutant. "We will probably be petitioned

by this cult. See that the petitioners are pacified and assured that their gods

will not be disturbed. Note the characteristics of the sect and send out a

general warning to deal gently with it." He sighed. "These savages and their

false gods! I grow weary of them. Yet they are necessary; the priests and the

gods of slaves always fight on the side of the Masters. It is a rule of nature."

"You have spoken, sire."

Ardmore was glad to see Thomas return to the Citadel. In spite of his

confidence in Jeff's ability to handle himself in a tight place, in spite of the

assurance that Calhoun had given him that the protective shield, properly

handled, would protect the wearer from anything that the PanAsian could

bring on it, he had been in a state of nerves ever since Thomas had set out

to register a complaint with the Asiatic authorities. After all, the attitude of the

PanAsians toward local religions might be one of bare toleration rather than

special encouragement.

"Welcome home, old boy!" he shouted, pounding him on the back. "I'm

glad to see your ugly face tell me what happened?"

"Give me time to get out of this bloody bathrobe, and I'll tell you. Got a

cigarette? That's a bad point about being a holy man; they don't smoke."

"Sure. Here. Had anything to eat?"

"Not recently."

Ardmore flipped the intercommunicator to Kitchen. "Alec, rustle up some

groceries for Lieutenant Thomas. And tell the troops they can hear his story if

they come around to my office."

"Ask him if he has any avocados."

Ardmore did so. "He says they're still in quick freeze, but he'll thaw one

out. Now let's have your story. What did Little Red Riding Hood say to the

wolf?"

"Well-you'll hardly believe it, Chief, but I didn't have any trouble at all.

When I got into town, I marched right straight up to the first PanAsian

policeman I found, stepped off the curb, and struck the old benediction posestaff in my left hand, right hand pawing the air; none of this hands folded and

head down stuff that white men are supposed to use. Then I said, `Peace be

unto you! Will the Master direct his servant to the seat of the Heavenly

Emperor's government?'

"I don't think he understood much English. He seemed startled at my

manner, and got hold of another flatface to help him. This one knew more

English and I repeated my request. They palavered in that damned singsong

tongue of theirs, then conducted me to the palace of the Emperor's Hand. We

made quite a procession-one on each side and me walking fast so that I kept

about even or a little in front of them."

"Good advertising," Ardmore approved.

"That's what I thought. Anyway, they got me there and I told my story to

some underofficial. The results astounded me. I was whisked right straight up

to the Hand himself."

"The hell you say!"

"Wait a minute-here's the pay-off: I'll admit I was scared, but I said to

myself `Jeff, old boy, if you start to crawl now, you'll never get out of here

alive.' I knew a white man is expected to drop to his knees before an official

of that rank. I didn't; I gave him the same standing benediction I had given his

flunkies. And he let me get away with it! He looked me over and said, 'I thank

you for your blessing, Holy One. You may approach.' He speaks excellent

English, by the way.

"Well, I gave him a reasonably accurate version of what happened herethe official version, you understand-and he asked me a few questions."

"What sort of questions?"

"In the first place he wanted to know if my religion recognized the

authority of the Emperor. I assured him that it did, that our followers were

absolutely bound to obey temporal authority in all temporal matters, but that

our creed commanded us to worship the true gods in our own fashion. Then I

gave him a long theological spiel. I told him that all men worshipped God, but

that God had a thousand attributes, each one a mystery. God in his wisdom

had seen fit to appear to different races in different attributes because it was

not seemly for servant and master to worship in the same fashion. Because

of that, the six attributes of Mota, of Shaam, of Mens, of Tamar, of Barmac,

and of Dis had been set aside for the white men, just as the Heavenly

Emperor was an attribute reserved for the race of Master."

"How did he take it?"

"I gathered that he thought it was very sound doctrine-for slaves. He

asked me what my church did besides holding services, and I told him that

our principal desire is to minister to the poor and sick. He seemed pleased at

that. I have an impression that our gracious overlords are finding relief a very

serious problem."

"Relief? Do they give any relief?"

"Not exactly. But if you load prisoners into concentration camps you have

to feed them something. The internal economy has largely broken down and

they haven't got it straightened out yet. I think they would welcome a

movement which would relieve them from worrying too much over how to

feed the slaves. "

"H-m-m-m. Anything else?"

"Nothing much. I assured him again that we, as spiritual leaders, were

forbidden by our doctrines to have anything to do with politics, and he told me

that we would not be molested in the future. Then he dismissed me. I

repeated my benediction, turned my back on him, and stomped out."

"It seems to me," said Ardmore, "that you pretty thoroughly sold him a bill

of goods."

"I wouldn't be too sure, Chief. That old scoundrel is shrewd and

Machiavellian. I shouldn't call him a scoundrel, because he's not by his

standards. He's a statesman. I've got to admit he impressed me. Look-these

PanAsians can't be stupid; they've conquered and held half a world,

hundreds of millions of people. If they tolerate local religions, it's because

they have found it to be smart politics. We've got to keep them thinking so in

our case, in the face of smart and experienced administrators."

"No doubt you're right. We certainly must be careful not to underestimate

them."

"I hadn't quite finished. Another escort picked me up on the way out of

the palace and stayed with me. I walked along, paying no attention to them.

My route out of town took me through the central market. There were

hundreds of whites there, lined up in queues, waiting for a chance to buy

food on their ration cards. I got an idea and decided to find out just how far

my immunity extended. I stopped and climbed up on a box and started to

preach to them."

Ardmore whistled. "Cripes, Jeff, you shouldn't have taken a chance like

that!"

"But, Major, we needed to know, and I was fairly certain that the worst

that could happen would be that they would make me stop."

"Well . . . yes, I suppose so. Anyhow the job requires that we take

chances and you have to use your own judgment. Boldness may be the

safest policy. Sorry I spoke-what happened?"

"My escort seemed dumbfounded at first, and not certain what to do. I

went right ahead, watching them out of the corner of my eye. Pretty soon

they were joined by a chappie who seemed to be senior to them. They held a

confab, and the senior cop went away. He came back in about five minutes,

and just stood there, watching me. I gathered that he had phoned in and had

received instructions to let me alone. "

"How did the crowd take it?"

"I think they were most impressed by the apparent fact that a white man

was breaking one of the rules of the overlords and getting away with it. I

didn't try to tell them much. I took as my text, The Disciple is coming!' and

embroidered it with a lot of glittering generalities. I told them to be good boys

and girls and not to be afraid, for the Disciple was coming to feed the hungry

and heal the sick and console the bereaved."

"H-m-m-m. Now that you've started making promises, we had better get

set to deliver."

"I was coming to that. Chief, I think that we had better set up a branch

church in Denver right away."

"We've hardly got the personnel yet to start branching out."

"Are you sure? I don't like to set my opinion up against yours, but I don't

see how we can gain many recruits unless we go where the recruits are.

They're all set for it now; you may be sure that every white man in Denver is

talking about the old beezer in the halo-in a halo, mind you!-who preached in

the market place and the Asiatics didn't dare stop him. We'll pack 'em in!"

"Well . . . maybe you're right-"

I think I am. Admitting that you can't spare the regular personnel from the

Citadel, here's how we can work it; I'll go down to the city with Alec, locate a

building that we can turn into a temple and start holding services. We can get

along with the power units in the staffs at first, and Scheer can follow along

and rebuild the interior of the temple and set up a proper unit in the altar.

Once things are rolling I can turn the routine over to Alec. He'll be the local

priest for Denver."

The others had drifted in one by one while Ardmore and Thomas were

talking. Ardmore turned now to Alec Howe.

"How about it, Alec? Do you think you can make a noise like a priest,

preach 'em sermons, organize charities, and that sort of thing?"

The mountain guide was slow to answer. "I think, Major, that I would

rather stay on the job I have now. "

"It won't be so hard," Ardmore reassured him. "Thomas or I can write

your sermons for you. The rest of it would consist largely in keeping your

mouth shut and your eyes open, and in shooing likely prospects up here to

be enlisted."

"It's not the sermons, Major. I can preach a sermon-I used to be a lay

preacher in my youth. It's just that I can't reconcile this false religion with my

conscience. I know you are working toward a worthy purpose and I've agreed

to serve, but I'd rather stay in the kitchen."

Ardmore considered his words before replying. "Alec," he said at length,

in a grave voice, "I think I can appreciate your viewpoint. I wouldn't want to

ask any man to do anything against his own conscience. As a matter of fact,

we would not have adopted the cloak of a religion had we seen any other

practical way to fight for the United States. Does your faith forbid you to fight

for your country?"

"No, it does not."

"Most of your work as a priest of this church would be to help the

helpless. Doesn't that fit into your creed?"

"Naturally it does. That is exactly why I cannot do it in the name of a

false God."

"But is it a false God? Do you believe that God cares very much what

name you call Him as long as the work you perform is acceptable to Him?

Now mind you," he added hastily, "I don't say that this so-called temple we

have erected here is necessarily a House of the Lord, but isn't the worship of

God a matter of how you feel in your heart rather than the verbal forms and

the ceremonials used?"

"That's true, Major, every word you've said is gospel-but I just don't feel

right about it."

Ardmore could see that Calhoun had been listening to this discussion

with poorly concealed impatience. He decided to terminate it. "Alec, I want

you to go now and think this over by yourself. Come see me tomorrow. If you

can't reconcile this work to your conscience, I'll give you an unprejudiced

discharge as a conscientious objector. It won't even be necessary for you to

serve in the kitchen."

"I wouldn't want to go that far, Major. It seems to me-"

"No, really. If one is wrong, so is the other. I don't want to be responsible

for requiring a man to do anything that might be a sin against his faith. Now

you get along and think about it."

Ardmore hustled him out without giving him a chance to talk further.

Calhoun could contain himself no longer. "Well, really, Major, I must say!

Is it your policy to compromise with superstition in the face of military

necessity?"

"No, Colonel, it is not-but that superstition, as you call it, is in this case a

military fact. Howe's case is the first example of something we are going to

have to deal with-the attitude of the orthodox religions to the one we have

trumped up."

"Maybe," suggested Wilkie, "we should have imitated the more usual