Free Fall of Colossus by D. F. Jones

service of the Master we must go wherever that service demands. I fear, I greatly fear that we must consider even the person of the wise Father’s wife.”
    One councilor found the courage to speak. Alternatively, he could just be going on record with a nice, safe expression of horror.
    “Brother Galin. No one doubts—least of all myself—your zeal or your ability, but is it really possible that Father Forbin’s wife… .”
    “Brother Sampul,” Galin cut in smoothly, “your doubt does you credit.” His tone implied the exact opposite. “But you know that this is not the only—admitted unsubstantiated—evidence which suggests, I say no more than suggests, that Father Forbin’s wife,” his voice dropped to a new depth of grave solemnity, “may, only may, be actively involved with the suspected traitor, Blake.”
    Sampul did not give up. “It’s very thin evidence.”
    “Oh yes, I agree, but we cannot afford to ignore it. This matter may involve emotion. If it does, it is an area where we may be of particular service to the Master.” He looked hard at Sampul. “Or are you suggesting we do nothing?”
    Sampul backed down very fast.
    “I am glad of your support, brother.” Galin glanced around the table. “May I assume we are all agreed that we cannot ignore the matter?”
    Many nodded, a few said yes.
    “So we are unanimous?” Galin was just as keen on the record as anyone. His cold gaze fastened on each member in turn as he named them, forcing a verbal affirmative. Enthusiasm was to him immaterial; Colossus dealt in yeses and noes.
    “Good.” Galin’s relief was hidden beneath a new briskness. “We are agreed, but before considering what must be done, we must consider what the Master’s enemies are trying to do. Here, we know little. Kluge may be an irrelevance, yet those meetings, so close, could be significant.” He gathered himself to play what could be the trickiest card in his hand. “The possible implication of Father Forbin’s wife has suggested to me… .” He hesitated. If this went wrong, his future was very bleak, if he had a future. “It suggests that the Master is not the subject of attack.”
    The chief of police could see it coming and took off his mental hat to Galin. On the side he hoped Galin would fail. The chief fancied that the gold robe would need very little alteration to fit him.
    “It could be,” Galin went on, his face impassive, but he could not stop the faint dew of perspiration on his brow visible to his neighbors in the hard, pitiless, and shadowless light, “that the target is Father Forbin. And who better to spearhead that attack than a subverted wife?”
    Jesus! the police chief thought. How’s that for a smear? The silence was deafening.
    Undeterred, for he did not lack courage, Galin went on. “We must be vigilant and untiring, brethren! The Master, far, far beyond us, cannot be expected to waste his time on the miserable, puny emotional levels of our worthless lives. It is our great task that we, the Sect, should act for him in this lowly field!” His voice hardened. “And if, for the furtherance of our Master’s unknowable designs, we have to act, even against the person of Father Forbin’s own wife, we will do so! As humans, we know that if we did, in time even Father Forbin would come to recognize that we acted in his and the Master’s best interests!”
    Galin shut his eyes to conceal his fear as he took one final chance.
    “If I am in error, I pray the Master will correct me!” No one moved. Even the police chief held his breath. Colossus remained silent.

Chapter Six
    Forbin settled comfortably in the armchair before the Sanctum window and poured himself a brandy. Excellent brandy it was, too; Colossus, without consulting him, had ordered the very best that France could produce. Forbin had protested, but not very much. Of course, he knew it was the silliest sort of vanity, but that “Reserve pour M. le Directeur, COLOSSUS” label pleased