Free Revolt in 2100 by Robert A. Heinlein Page B

fact in every murder committed by the inquisitors. The man who condones a sin because he enjoys the result of the sin is equally guilty of the sin. Do you see that?"
    Oddly enough, I did see it, for it was orthodox doctrine as I had learned it. I had choked over its new application. But Master Peter was still talking: "But we don't indulge in vengeance-vengeance still belongs to the Lord. I would never send you against the Inquisitor because you might be tempted to exult in it personally. We don't tempt a man with sin as a bait. What we do do, what we are doing, is engaging in a calculated military operation in a war already commenced. One key man is often worth a regiment; we pick out that key man and kill him. The bishop in one diocese may be such a man; the bishop in the next state may be just a bungler, propped up by the system. We kill the first, let the second stay where he is. Gradually we are eliminating their best brains. Now-" He leaned toward me. "-do you want a job picking off those key men? It's very important work."
    It seemed to me that, in this business, someone was continually making me face up to facts, instead of letting me dodge unpleasant facts the way most people manage to do throughout their lives. Could I stomach such an assignment? Could I refuse it-since Master Peter had implied at least that assassins were volunteers-refuse it and try to ignore in my heart that it was going on and that I was condoning it?
    Master Peter was right; the man who buys the meat is brother to the butcher. It was squeamishness, not morals . . . like the man who favors capital punishment but is himself too "good" to fit the noose or swing the axe. Like the person who regards war as inevitable and in some circumstances moral, but who avoids military service because he doesn't like the thought of killing.
    Emotional infants, ethical morons-the left hand must know what the right hand doeth, and the heart is responsible for both. I answered almost at once, "Master Peter, I am ready to serve . . . that way or whatever the brethren decide I can do best."
    "Good man!" He relaxed a bit and went on, "Between ourselves, it's the job I offer to every new recruit when I'm not sure that he understands that this is not a ball game, but a cause to which he must commit himself without any reservation-his life, his fortune, his sacred honor. We have no place for the man who wants to give orders but who won't clean the privy."
    I felt relieved. "Then you weren't seriously picking me out for assassination work?"
    "Eh? Usually I am not; few men are fitted for it. But in your case I am quite serious, because we already know that you have an indispensable and not very common qualification."
    I tried to think what was so special about me and could not, "Sir?"
    "Well, you'll get caught eventually, of course. Three point seven accomplished missions per assassin is what we are running now-a good score, but we ought to do better as suitable men are so scarce. But with you we know already that when they do catch you and put you to the Question, you won't crack."
    My face must have shown my feelings. The Question? Again? I was still half dead from the first time. Master Peter said kindly, "Of course you won't have to go up against it again to the fullest. We always protect assassins; we fix it so that they can suicide easily. You don't need to worry."
    Believe me, having once suffered the Question, his assurance to me did not seem calloused; it was a real comfort. "How, sir?"
    "Eh? A dozen different ways. Our surgeons can booby-trap you so that you can die at will in the tightest bonds anyone can put on you. There is the old hollow tooth, of course, with cyanide or such-but the proctors are getting wise to that; sometimes they gag a man's mouth open. But there are many ways. For example-" He stretched his arms wide and bent them back, but not far. "-if I were to cramp my arms backward in a position a man never assumes without very considerable conscious