It took some time for enough unquestioned data to accumulate to convince the higher authorities that the priests of Mota, all of them, had several annoying -- yes, even intolerable characteristics. They could not be touched. One could not even get very close to one of them -- it was as if they were surrounded by a frictionless pellucid wall of glass. Vortex pistols had no effect on them. They would submit passively to arrest but somehow they never stayed in jail. Worst of all, it had become certain that a temple of Mota could not, under any circumstances, be inspected by a PanAsian.

It was not to be tolerated.

It was not tolerated. The Prince Royal himself ordered the arrest of Ardmore.

It was not done as crudely as that. Word was sent to the Mother Temple that the Grandson of Heaven desired the High Priest of the Lord of Mota to attend him. The message reached Ardmore in his office in the Citadel, delivered to him by his Chief of Staff, Kendig, who for the first time in their relationship showed signs of agitation. "Chief," he burst out, "a battle cruiser has landed in front of the temple, and the commanding officer says he has orders to take you along!"

Ardmore put down the papers he had been studying. "Hmm-m-m," he said, "it looks like we're getting down to the slugging. A little bit earlier than I had counted on." He frowned.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"You know my methods. What do you think I'll do about it?"

"Well -- I guess you'll probably go along with him, but it worries me. I wish you wouldn't."

"What else can I do? We aren't ready yet for an open breach; a refusal would be out of character. Orderly!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Send my striker in. Tell him full robes and paraphernalia. Then present my compliments to Captain Thomas and ask him to come here at once."

"Yes, sir." The orderly was already busy with the viewphone.

Ardmore talked with Kendig and Thomas as his striker robed him. "Jeff, here's the sack -- you're holding it."

"Huh?"

"If anything happens so that I lose communication with headquarters, you are commanding officer. You'll find your appointment in, my desk, signed and sealed."

"But Chief"

"Don't 'But Chief' me. I made my decision on this a long time ago. Kendig knows about it; so does the rest of the staff. I'd have had you in the staff before this if I hadn't needed you as Chief of Intelligence." Ardmore glanced in a mirror and brushed at his curly blond beard. They had all grown beards, all those who appeared in public as priests. It tended to give the comparatively hairless Asiatics a feeling of womanly inferiority while at the same time arousing a vague unallocated repugnance. "You may have noticed that no one holding a line commission has ever been made senior to you. I had this eventuality in mind."

"How about Calhoun?"

"Oh, yes -- Calhoun. Your commission as a line-officer automatically makes you senior to him, of course. But I'm afraid that won't cut much ice in handling him. You just have to deal with him as best you can. You've got force majeure at your disposal, but go easy. But I don't have to tell you that."

A messenger, dressed as an acolyte, hurried in and saluted. "Sir, the temple officer of the watch says that the PanAsian Commander is getting very impatient."

"Good. I want him to be. Are the subsonics turned on?"

"Yes, sir, they make us all very nervous."

"You can stand it; you know what it is. Tell the watch officer to have the engineer on duty vary the volume erratically with occasional complete let-ups. I want those Asiatics to be fit to be tied by the time I get there."

"Yes, sir. Any word to the cruiser commander?"

"Not directly. Have the watch officer tell him that I am at my devotions and can't be disturbed."

"Very good, sir." The messenger trotted away. This was something like! He would hang around where he could see the face of that skunk when he heard that one!

"I'm glad we got these new headsets fitted out in time," Ardmore observed as his striker fitted his turban to his head.

The turbans had originally been intended simply to conceal the mechanism which produced the shining halo which floated above the heads of all priests of Mota. The turban and the halo together made a priest look about seven feet tall with consequent unfavorable effect on the psyche of the Asiatics. But Scheer had seen the possibility of concealing a short range transmitter and receiver under the turban as well; they were now standard equipment.

He settled the turban with his hands, made sure that the bone conduction receiver was firm against his mastoid, and spoke in natural low tones, apparently to no one, "Commanding officer -- testing."

Apparently inside his head, a voice, muffled but distinct, answered him, "Communication watch officer -- test check."

"Good," he approved. "Have direction finders crossed on me until further notice. Arrange your circuits to hook me in through the nearest temple to headquarters here. I may want Circuit A at any moment. "

Circuit A was a general broadcast to every temple in the country. "Any news from Captain Downer?"

"One just this moment came in, sir; I've just sent it to your office," the inner voice informed him.

"So? Yes, I see." Ardmore stepped to his desk, flipped a switch which turned off a shining red transparency reading Priority, and tore a sheet of paper from the facsimile recorder.

"Tell the Chief," the message ran, "that something is about to bust. I can't find out what it is, but all the brasshats are looking very cocky. Watch everything and be careful." That was all, and that little possibly garbled in word of mouth relay.

Ardmore frowned and pursed his mouth, then signaled his orderly. "Send for Mr. Mitsui."

When Mitsui came in, Ardmore handed him the message. "I suppose you've heard that I am to be arrested?"

"It's all over the place," Mitsui acknowledged soberly, and handed the message back.

"Frank, if you were Prince Royal, what would you be trying to accomplish by arresting me?"

"Chief," protested Mitsui, distress in his eyes, "you act as if I were one of those ... those murdering --"

"Sorry -- but I still want your advice."

"Well -- I guess I'd be intending to put you on ice, then clamp down on your church."

"Anything else?"

"I don't know. I don't guess I'd be doing it unless I was fairly sure that I had some .way to get around your protections."

"No, I suppose so." He spoke again to the air. "Communication office, priority for Circuit A."

"Direct, or relay?"

"You send it out. I want every priest to return to his temple, if he is now out of it, and I want him to do it fast. Priority, urgent, acknowledge and report." He turned back to those with him.

"Now for a bite to eat, and I'll go. Our yellow friend upstairs ought to be about done to a turn by then. Anything else we should take up before I leave?"

Ardmore entered the main hall of the temple from the door in the rear of the altar. His approach to the great doors, now standing open, was a stately progress. He knew that the Asiatic commander could see him coming; he covered the two hundred yards with leisured dignity, attended by a throng of servers clad in robes of red, of green, of blue, and golden. His own vestments were immaculate white. His attendants fanned out as they neared the great archway; he marched out and up to the fuming Asiatic alone. "Your master wishes to see me?"

The PanAsian had difficulty in composing himself sufficiently to speak in English. Finally he managed to get out, "You were ordered to report to me. How dare you --"

Ardmore cut him short. "Does your master wish to see me?"