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 move. “Welcoming committee,” she said.
* * * *
They climbed out the circular port, and flashed their United Planets Bureau of Investigation badges to 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 to 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 demonstrators 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 the 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 real trouble. Had to shoot our way out.”
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 hope. All my assistants have already taken off for Avalon.” He was a short statured, dark complected man, his features betraying his Semitic background.
Ronny shook hands with him and said, “Sorry to bother you at a time like this.”
They found chairs and Mouley Hassan flicked a key on his order box and said to them, “How about a drink? They make a wonderful sparkling wine on this planet. Trust any theocracy to have top potables.”
Ronny accepted the offer, Tog refused it politely. She sat demurely, her hands in her lap.
Mouley Hassan ran a weary hand through already mussed hair. “What’s this special assignment you’re on?”
Ronny said, “Commissioner Metaxa has sent me looking for Tommy Paine.”
“Tommy Paine!” the other blurted. “At a time like this, when I haven’t had three nights’ sleep in the last three basic weeks, you come around looking for Tommy Paine?”
Ronny was taken aback. “Sid Jakes seemed to think this might be one of Paine’s jobs.”
Tog said mildly, “What better place to look for Tommy Paine, than in a situation like this, Agent Hassan?” Her eyebrows went up. “Or don’t you think the quest for Paine is an important one?”
The other subsided somewhat. “I suppose