“Um. Seen a morning paper, Prof? Or a video cast?”
“The latter, yes.”
“Nothing in late news last night.”
“Nor this morning.”
“Odd,” I said.
“What’s odd about it?” asked Wyoh. “We won’t talk–and we have comrades in key places in every paper in Luna.”
Prof shook his head. “No, my dear. Not that simple. Censorship. Do you know how copy is set in our newspapers?”
“Not exactly. It’s done by machinery.”
“Here’s what Prof means,” I told her. “News is typed in editorial offices. From there on it’s a leased service directed by a master computer at Authority Complex”–hoped she would notice “master computer” rather than “Mike”–“copy prints out there via phone circuit. These rolls feed into a computer section which reads, sets copy, and prints out newspapers at several locations. Novylen edition of Daily Lunatic prints out in Novylen changes in ads and local stories, and computer makes changes from standard symbols, doesn’t have to be told how. What Prof means is that at print-out at Authority Complex, Warden could intervene. Same for all news services, both off and to Luna–they funnel through computer room.”
“The point is,” Prof went on, “the Warden could have killed the story. It’s irrelevant whether he did. Or–check me, Manuel; you know I’m hazy about machinery–he could insert a story, too, no matter how many comrades we have in newspaper offices.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “At Complex, anything can be added, cut, or changed.”
“And that, señorita, is the weakness of our Cause. Communications. Those goons were not important–but crucially important is that it lay with the Warden, not with us, to decide whether the story should be told. To a revolutionist, communications are a sine-qua-non.”
Wyoh looked at me and I could see synapses snapping. So I changed subject. “Prof. why get rid of bodies? Besides horrible job, was dangerous. Don’t know how many bodyguards Warden has, but more could show up while you were doing it.”
“Believe me, lad, we feared that. But although I was almost useless, it was my idea, I had to convince the others. Oh, not my original idea but remembrance of things past, an historical principle.”
“What principle?”
“Terror! A man can face known danger. But the unknown frightens him. We disposed of those finks, teeth and toenails, to strike terror into their mates. Nor do I know how many effectives the Warden has, but I guarantee they are less effective today. Their mates went out on an easy mission. Nothing came back.”
Wyoh shivered. “It scares me, too. They won’t be anxious to go inside a warren again. But, Professor, you say you don’t know how many bodyguards the Warden keeps. The Organization knows. Twenty-seven. If nine were killed, only eighteen are left. Perhaps it’s time for a putsch. No?”
“No,” I answered.
“Why not, Mannie? They’ll never be weaker.”
“Not weak enough. Killed nine because they were crackers to walk in where we were. But if Warden stays home with guards around him– Well, had enough shoulder-to-shoulder noise last night.” I turned to Prof. “But still I’m interested in fact–if it is–that Warden now has only eighteen. You said Wyoh should not go to Hong Kong and I should not go home. But if he has only eighteen left, I wonder how much danger? Later after he gets reinforcements.–but now, well, L-City has four main exits plus many little ones. How many can they guard? What’s to keep Wyoh from walking to Tube West, getting p-suit, going home?”
“She might,” Prof agreed.
“I think I must,” Wyoh said. “I can’t stay here forever. If I have to hide, I can do better in Hong Kong, where I know people.”
“You might get away with it, my dear. I doubt it. There were two yellow jackets at Tube Station West last night; I saw them. They may not be there now. Let’s assume they are not. You go to the station–disguised perhaps. You get your p-suit and take a capsule to Beluthihatchie. As you climb out to take the bus to Endsville, you’re arrested. Communications. No need to post a yellow jacket at the station; it is enough that someone sees you there. A phone call does the rest.”