He nodded in the direction of the communications screen. A bald headed, robed character, obviously a priest, scowled at them.
Captain Woiski said, “The Sub-Bishop informs me that the provisional government has ruled that any spacecraft landing on New Delos cannot take off again without permission and that every individual who lands, even United Planets personnel, will need an exit visa before being allowed to depart.”
Ronny said, “Then you can’t land?”
The captain said reasonably, “My destination is Merlini. I’ve gone out of my way slightly to drop you off here. But I can’t afford to take the chance of having my ship tied up for what might be an indefinite period. Evidently there’s considerable civil disorder down there.”
From the screen the priest snapped, “That is an inaccurate manner of describing the situation.”
“Sorry,” the captain said dryly.
Ronny Bronston said desperately, “But, captain, Miss Tog and I simply have to land.” He reached for his badge. “High priority, Bureau of Investigations.”
The captain shrugged his hefty shoulders. “Sorry, I have no instructions that allow me to risk tying up my ship. Here’s a possibility. Can you pilot a landing craft? I could spare you one—then you and your assistant would be the only ones involved. You could turn it over to whatever Space Forces base we have here.”
Ronny said miserably, “No, I’m not a space pilot.”
“I am,” Tog said softly. “The idea sounds excellent.”
“We shall expect you,” the Sub-Bishop said. The screen went blank.
Tog Lee Chang Chu piloted a landing craft with the same verve that she seemed to be able to handle any other responsibility. As he sat in the seat next to her, Ronny Bronston took in her practiced flicking of the controls from the side of his eyes. He wondered vaguely at the efficiency of such Section G officials as Metaxa and Jakes that they would assign an unknown quality such as himself to a task as important as running down Tommy Paine, and then as an assistant provide him with an experienced operative such as Tog. The bureaucratic mind could be a dilly, he decided. Was the fact that she was a rather delicately constructed girl a factor? He felt the weight of the Model-H gun nestled under his left armpit. Perhaps in the clutch Section G preferred men as agents.
They swooped into a landing that brought them as close to the control tower as was practical. In a matter of moments there was a guard of twenty or more sloppily uniformed men about their small craft.
Tog made a
They climbed out the circular port, and Ronny flashed his United Planets Bureau of Investigation badge at the youngish looking soldier who seemed in command. He was indecisive.
“United Planets?” he said. “All I know is I’m supposed to arrest anybody landing.”
Ronny snapped, “We’re to be taken immediately to United Planets headquarters.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I don’t take orders from foreigners.”
One of his men was nervously fingering the trigger of his submachine gun.
Ronny’s mouth went dry. He had the feeling of being high, high on a rock face, inadequately belayed from above.
Tog said smoothly, “But major, I’m sure whoever issued your orders had no expectation of a special delegation from the United Planets coming to congratulate your new authorities on their success. Of course, it’s unknown to arrest a delegation from United Planets.”
“It is?” he frowned at her. “I mean, you are?”
“Yes,” Tog said sweetly.
Ronny took the hint. “Where can we find a vehicle, major, to get us the capital and to United Planets headquarters? Evidently we arrived before we were expected. There should have been a big welcoming committee here.”
“Oh,” the obviously recently promoted lad said hesitantly. “Well, I suppose we can make arrangements. This way, please.” He grinned at Tog as they walked toward the administration building. “Do all girls dress like you on Earth?”
“Well, no,” she said demurely.
“That’s too bad,” he said gallantly.
“Why, major!” Tog said, keeping her eyes on the tarmac.
At the administration building there was little of order, but eventually they managed to arrange for their transportation. Luckily, they were supplied with a chauffeur driven helio-car.
Luckily, because without the chauffeur to help them run the gauntlet they would have been held up by parades, demonstrations and monstrous street meetings a dozen times before they ever reached their destination. Twice Ronny stopped short of drawing his gun only by a fraction when half drunken demonstraters stopped them.
The driver, a wispy, sad looking type, shook his head. “There’s no going back now,” he told them over his shoulder. “No going back. Last week I was all with the rest—I never did believe David the One was really immortal. But you was just used to idea, see? It’d always been that way, with the priests running everything and we was used to it. Now I wish we was still that way. At least you knew how you stood, see? Now, what’s going to happen?”
“That’s an interesting question,” Tog said politely.
Ronny said, “Possibly you’ll have the chance to build a better world, now.”
The driver shot a contemptuous look over his shoulder. “Better world? What do I want with a better world? I just don’t want to be bothered. I’ve been getting my three squares a day, got a nice little flat for my family. How do I know it’s not going to be a worse world?”
“That’s always a possibility,” Tog told him. “Do most people seem to feel the same?”
“Practically everybody I know does,” he said glumly. “But the fat’s in the fire now. The priests are trying to hold on, but their government is falling apart all over the place.”
“Well,” Ronny said, “at least you can figure just about anything in the way of a new government will be better than one based on superstition and inquisition. It couldn’t get worse.”
“Things can always get worse,” the other contradicted him sadly.
They left the cab before an impressively tall, many windowed building in city center. As they mounted the steps, Ronny frowned at her. “You seemed to be encouraging that man in his pessimism. So far as I can see, the best thing that ever happened to this planet was toppling that phony priesthood.”
“Perhaps,” she said agreeably. “However, the man’s mind was an ossified one. A surprisingly large percentage of people have them, especially when it comes to institutions such as religion and government. We weren’t going to be able to teach him anything, but it was possible to learn from him.”
Ronny grunted his disgust. “What could we possibly learn from him?”
Tog said mildly, “We could learn what people of the street were thinking. It might give us some ideas about what direction the new government will take.”
They approached the portals of the building and were halted by an armed Space Forces guard of half a dozen men. Their sergeant saluted, taking in their obvious other-planet clothing.
“Identifications, please,” he said briskly.
They showed their badges and were passed on through. Ronny said to him, “Much trouble, sergeant?”
The other shrugged. “No. Just precautions, sir. We’ve been here only three or four weeks. Civil disturbance. We’re used to it. Were over on Montezuma two basic months ago. Now, there was
Tog called, “Coming, Ronny? I have this elevator waiting.”
He followed her, scowling. An idea was trying to work its way through. Somehow he missed getting it.
Headquarters of the Department of Justice were on the eighth floor. A receptionist clerk led them through three or four doors to the single office which housed Section G.
A red eyed, exhausted agent looked up from the sole desk and snarled a question at them. Ronny didn’t get it, but Tog said mildly, “Probationary Agent Ronald Bronston and Tog Lee Chang Chu. On special assignment.” She flicked open her badge so that the other could see it.
His manner changed. “Sorry,” he said, getting up to shake hands. “I’m Mouley Hassan, in charge of Section G on New Delos. We’ve just had a crisis here, as you can imagine. The worst of it’s now over.” He added sourly, “I
