She was saying, “Good heavens, Colonel Mathers, father must be clairvoyant, or whatever they call it when you can look into the future. Imagine! The last time we saw you, you were a mere sub-lieutenant. Now you are the toast of the Solar System.”
“Sheer luck, Ms. Demming,” Don said with befitting modesty.
“I am sure not,” His Supreme Holiness said. “Your courage and gallantry are an example for all our noble young warriors fighting for the Almighty Ultimate and his highest creation, the human race.”
“Most certainly,” Maximilian Rostoff said, with great conviction.
Alicia had that starry look in her eye that Don was getting used to in young women, and not-so-young women, for that matter.
She said to him, “Alicia, not Ms. Demming… Don.”
At table, Don remembered the last siege he’d had in this home and took it easy on each course and with each wine. He didn’t want to become foundered again.
Demming was saying to him, “It is a great privilege to have his Supreme Holiness here. He has decided to throw the full weight of the Universal Reformed Church into our efforts to amalgamate system-wide efforts to produce radioactives for the war effort. The church will proclaim the need for sacrifice from every citizen.”
“We will proclaim a jihad,” the Grand Presbyter said, his voice inspired.
Don regarded him blankly. “A what?”
“A jihad,” the other told him definitely. “It comes down from the Arabic, when the scimitar was conquering half the civilized world under the inspiration of the Prophet. The Moslem world, of course, is now all but completely assimilated into the Universal Reformed Church, but it is fitting that we proclaim a Holy War against the Kraden monsters.”
Rostoff said, his voice only very faintly wry, “To help subsidize it, we are issuing His Supreme Holiness two percent of the preferred stock of the Donal Mathers Radioactives Mining Corporation.”
Alicia said, taking her eyes from Don momentarily, “You mean you’re actually going to donate two percent of the corporation stock to the Universal Reformed Church, father?” On the face of it, Alicia Demming had never heard of her father ever having freely donated anything to anybody.
Lawrence Demming pursed his plum lips judiciously. “Not exactly, my dear. The stock will be issued to Peter Fodor, the Grand Presbyter, in his own name. We have decided that in this manner he will be in a position to more efficiently handle the income. Indeed, we do not plan to release the information to the media.”
“Much more efficient,” Rostoff said.
His Supreme Holiness said benignly, “It will give me considerably more leeway. Unnecessary to go through red-tape and church hierarchy channels to accomplish immediate results.”
Inwardly, Don Mathers wondered what two percent of, say, a few hundred billion was.
Martha Demming said to Don sweetly, in an obvious make-conversation gambit, “And what is your mining background, Colonel Mathers?”
Demming looked at her from the side of his eyes, and then closed them in pain momentarily, before opening them again so that he could resume plowing into the brace of capons before him.
Rostoff took over gently, explaining, “The Colonel will not deal with such mundane matters as the technology involved in extracting uranium and other radioactives, Ms. Demming. He will work on the highest levels of policy, high echelon decisions, public relations, that sort of thing.”
“Oh, I see. My, such responsibility for such a young man.”
She gave Don a bucktoothed, approving smile, and he inwardly winced.
After the ladies had withdrawn, the four men took to cigars and port. Don was treated, by his two supposed partners, as an equal. Indeed, if anything, they deferred to him. His opinion was always carefully listened to and the both of them would sagely nod whenever he made a point. Which was, however, seldom enough since he knew nothing whatsoever about corporation law and even less about radioactives, beyond their use in the nuclear engines of a One Man Scout.
Somewhat to his surprise, His Supreme Holiness was up on corporation law and fully able to discuss fine points with his host and Rostoff. Indeed, after a flurry of discussion on one phase of the development of Don’s new corporation, Demming and Rostoff excused themselves, came to their feet, and, cigars in hand, went over to the terrace, which over-looked Center City, from its lofty altitude, and conferred in low voices.
The Grand Presbyter tapped ash from his imperial size Manila cigar. Don had understood that the Universal Reformed Church frowned upon, though it did not completely forbid, use by the faithful of tobacco and alcohol. Evidently, His Supreme Holiness was making an exception tonight.
He said, “Have you ever considered taking Holy Orders, my son?”
XI
Don stared at him and took a hasty slug of his port. “Doing what?”
“Taking Holy Orders. We could elevate you to a Missionary Apostle. I would think that it would aid immeasurably in bringing new converts to the Church, and, of course, the greater our membership the greater the number to participate in our Jihad against the Kradens.”
“Well, no,” Don said, less than happy. “You see, I am not even a member of the Universal Reformed Church. My parents weren’t religious whatsoever, so I wasn’t raised in the atmosphere.”
“Then, my son, you are not acquainted with the tenets of the Church?”
“Not at all. And, I’m a space pilot. Wouldn’t it look rather far out if suddenly I became a, what did you call it, a Missionary Apostle?”
His Supreme Holiness shook his head, after taking another appreciative pull at his dark cigar. “Not at all, my son. Haven’t you ever heard of the Loyola story?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Briefly, Ignatius of Loyola was born in the 15th. Century and was of noble background. As a youth he left his life at court and joined the military. He distinguished himself in many actions and was also known to be a great, hmmm, lady’s man and carouser. Indeed, it is said that his broken leg, which caused him to limp the rest of his life, was a result of his having to jump from a paramour’s window upon the arrival of her husband.”
His Supreme Holiness chuckled, as though he was being very bold. “However, during his convalescence from either this wound or another, he was converted through reading a life of Christ. After deep studies he, with six friends, took vows of poverty and chastity and were later ordained. They formed a new order, the Society of Jesus, or Jesuits, and it became one of the most effective religious organizations the world has ever seen. After his death, he was canonized in 1622.”
Don was uncomfortable. It was obvious that the Grand Presbyter was considered of great importance to the corporation by Demming and Rostoff or they wouldn’t have let him into the inner circles of the deal. However, Don Mathers had no intention of taking Holy Orders. He had every intention of living it up for the rest of his life.
He said, “You mentioned that he spent years of study. I am afraid that my duties as head of the Radioactives Mining Corporation wouldn’t allow me much time for study.”
“Ah, my son, the tenets of our modern Church are not so complicated as all that. Basically, our raison d’ etre is that half a century ago thinking persons began to desert the organized churches of the time. Which is not strange, in view of the fact that such organizations as the Jewish, Christian, Mohammedan and Buddhist were initiated long centuries ago, indeed, millennia ago. They were conceived by nomads and, anthropologically speaking, by barbarians. Obviously, their teachings do not make a great deal of sense to a modern, educated, civilized man.”
“Such as what, for example?” Don said, just to be saying something.