"Who knows? Can you maneuver your ship so that we can grapple, or shall we send out help?"
"The steering seems to be all right," she said. "I’ll come in."
She coasted the ship until they were near one of the empty bays and the station's magnegraps pulled them into the bay.
When, finally, they climbed from their ship into the unpleasant air of the monastery, they were greeted by the thin-faced monk. He was dressed in a blue habit that did nothing for his already pale face. His hair was short but he had no tonsure. His eyes and cheeks were sunken but, in his own way, he looked healthy enough. He held out a skeletal hand with incredibly long fingers.
"I am Auditor Kurt," he said as Alan shook hands. "It is good that we can be of service to you. Please come this way."
He took them into a small, barely furnished room and offered them tea, which they accepted.
"What exactly is wrong with your ship?" he asked politely.
"I'm not sure. I’m not familiar with the type-it's new. I could not get the landing jets to work when I tested them preparatory to re-entering the atmosphere. It's just as well I did test them." She had personally jammed the jet control. It could be fixed easily. "You were lucky to be so close." The monk nodded.
Alan was wondering how he could find out if the Fire-clown was here.
"I'm extremely interested in your Order," he said conversationally. "I'm something of a student of religions- perhaps you can tell me about yours?"
"Only that we were founded as long ago as 1950, although this Order did not come into existence until 1976 and did not come here until about twenty years ago. We are a branch of the original faith, which did not pay a great deal of attention to its mystical aspects until we founded the Order of St. Rene. St. Rene is not the true name of our inspired founder-that is secret to almost all-but that is the name we use for him."
"I should like to see the monastery. Is that possible?" Alan looked around the small room, avoiding the monk's intent gaze.
"Normally it would be possible-but, ah, we have repairs going on in many parts. … We are not really prepared for visitors."
"Oh? Then whose is the ship, other than ours, in the receiving bay?"
"Which one?"
"There are two. The Pi-meson and the Od-Methuselah."
"Both ours," the monk said hastily. "Both ours."
"Then why did you ask which one I spoke of?"
The monk smiled. "We monks have devious minds, I'm afraid. It is the nature of our calling. Excuse me, I'll go and check that the mechanics are repairing your ship." He rose and left. They heard the door seal itself behind him. They were locked in.
Alan sipped his tea.
"If the Fireclown's here, they're not likely to let on to outsiders who'd take the news back to Earth," he said.
"We'll have to think of a means of getting a look around this place. Have you noticed the atmosphere? It's weird."
The atmosphere of the place fitted well with the spacestation monastery circling in space, away from the things of Earth. It had a detached air of calm about it, and yet there, was a feeling of excitement here, too. It was possible, of course, that he was imagining it, for he was very excited himself.
"Do you think they know what he's up to? Or is he just making use of their habit of affording people sanctuary?" Alan asked her.
"They seem unworldly, to say the least," she replied, shivering a little, for the room was not well heated.
The door opened and Auditor Kurt came back.
"Your boat has been fixed, my friends. I see from the registration plates that it is owned by Denholm Curtis-an important man on Earth, is he not?"
"He's my brother," Helen said, wondering if the monk was getting at anything in particular.
Alan became aware at last that they might be in danger. If the Fireclown was here and knew they were here, too, he might decide it was risky to let them go.
"So you are Helen Curtis. Who, then, is this gentleman?"
"I'm Alan Powys."
"Ah, yes, Simon Powys' grandson. From what I have seen of recent lasercasts, Miss Curtis and Minister Powys are at odds over certain issues. Which side do you support, Mr. Powys?"
"Neither," Alan said coldly. "Just call me a disinterested spectator."
A peculiar expression came on the monk's face for a second. Alan could work out what it indicated.
"I should say you were the least disinterested…" the monk mused. Then he said briskly: "You asked earlier if you could look over the monastery. To tell you the truth we are not always willing to let strangers inspect our home, but I think it would be all right if you wanted to take a quick tour before you leave."
Why the monk's sudden change? Was he planning to lead them into some sort of trap? Alan had to take the chance.
"Thanks a lot," he said.
They began to walk along the curving corridor. This part, the monk told them, was reserved for the monks' cells.
They turned into a narrower corridor which led them to another similar to the one they'd just left, though the curve was tighter.
"Here is what we term our clearing house." The monk smiled, opening a door and letting them precede him through. It was a fairly large room. Several monks sat on simple chairs. They were dressed in brown dungarees. The monk in the center was dressed, like Auditor Kurt, in a blue habit, and was chanting some sort of litany.
"How would you worry somebody?" he chanted.
"By destroying their confidence," the other monks mumbled in reply.
"How would you make somebody happy?"
"By casting forth their engrams," said the monks in unison.
"How would you help somebody?"
"Teach them to-be clear."
"By the Spirit of the Eight Dynamics," intoned the blue-clad monk, "I command thee to cast forth thy engrams forthwith!"
The monks seemed to freeze, concentrating intently. Above them, behind the monk in the blue habit, a weird machine whirred and buzzed, dials swinging around strangely marked faces, lights flashing.
Alan said respectfully: "What are they doing?"
"They are attempting to learn the ultimate secret of the Great Triangle,"
Auditor Kurt whispered.
"Ah," Alan nodded intelligently.
They left this room and entered another. Here a great screen was blank and there were comfortable chairs scattered around before it.
"Sit down," said Kurt. "We are expecting a special event, today."
Alan and Helen sat down and watched the screen.
They fidgeted for over half an hour as nothing happened, and -Kurt continued to watch the screen impassively, not looking at them.
Alan's sense of danger was heightened and he had a feeling the monk was deliberately keeping them in suspense.
Then, all at once, big letters began to form on the screen until a whole sentence was emblazoned there.
ANOTHER BROTHER CLEAR! said the message. It meant nothing to either of them.
Alan turned to the monk, half suspicious that a trick had been played on them, but the monk was looking ecstatic and incredibly pleased.
"What does it mean?" Alan asked desperately.
"What it says-the hampering engrams have been exorcised from one of our brothers. He is now a clear and ready to become a Brother Auditor, as I am. It is a time for rejoicing in the monastery when this comes about."
Alan scratched his head and looked at Helen, who was equally perplexed.
"Well," beamed thin-faced Auditor Kurt, "now you have seen a little of our monastery."
Half convinced that he was the victim of a practical joke, Alan nodded mutely.
He was no nearer to finding out if the Fireclown was here, although perhaps a check on the Pi-meson when they got back to Earth would help them.
"Thank you for showing us," Helen said brightly. She, too, was obviously uncertain of what to do next.
"Oh"-the monk seemed to remember something-"there is one other thing I should like to show you before you leave. Will you follow me?"