The Moon Is Down (16 page)

Lanser shook his head. “No, not yet. They are just arrested so far.”

Hunter said quietly, “Colonel, do you want me to recommend—maybe you're overtired, Colonel? Could I—you know—could I report that you're overtired?”

For a moment Lanser covered his eyes with his hand, and then his shoulders straightened and his face grew hard. “I'm not a civilian, Hunter. We're short enough of officers already. You know that. Get to your work, Major. I have to see Corell.”

Hunter smiled. He went to the door and opened it, and he said out of the door, “Yes, he's here,” and over his shoulder he said to Lanser, “It's Prackle. He wants to see you.”

“Send him in,” said Lanser.

Prackle came in, his face sullen, belligerent. “Colonel Lanser, sir, I wish to—”

“Sit down,” said Lanser. “Sit down and rest a moment. Be a good soldier, Lieutenant.”

The stiffness went out of Prackle quickly. He sat down beside the table and rested his elbows on it. “I wish—”

And Lanser said, “Don't talk for a moment. I know what it is. You didn't think it would be this way, did you? You thought it would be rather nice.”

“They hate us,” Prackle said. “They hate us so much.”

Lanser smiled. “I wonder if I know what it is. It takes young men to make good soldiers, and young men need young women, is that it?”

“Yes, that's it.”

“Well,” Lanser said kindly, “does she hate you?”

Prackle looked at him in amazement. “I don't know, sir. Sometimes I think she's only sorry.”

“And you're pretty miserable?”

“I don't like it here, sir.”

“No, you thought it would be fun, didn't you? Lieutenant Tonder went to pieces and then he went out and they got a knife in him. I could send you home. Do you want to be sent home, knowing we need you here?”

Prackle said uneasily, “No, sir, I don't.”

“Good. Now I'll tell you, and I hope you'll understand it. You're not a man any more. You are a soldier. Your comfort is of no importance and, Lieutenant, your life isn't of much importance. If you live, you will have memories. That's about all you will have. Meanwhile you must take orders and carry them out. Most of the orders will be unpleasant, but that's not your business. I will not lie to you, Lieutenant. They should have trained you for this, and not for flower-strewn streets. They should have built your soul with truth, not led along with lies.” His voice grew hard. “But you took the job, Lieutenant. Will you stay with it or quit it? We can't take care of your soul.”

Prackle stood up. “Thank you, sir.”

“And the girl,” Lanser continued, “the girl, Lieutenant, you may rape her, or protect her, or marry her—that is of no importance so long as you shoot her when it is ordered.”

Prackle said wearily, “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

“I assure you it is better to know. I assure you of that. It is better to know. Go now, Lieutenant, and if Corell is still waiting, send him in.” And he watched Lieutenant Prackle out of the doorway.

When Mr. Corell came in, he was a changed man. His left arm was in a cast, and he was no longer the jovial, friendly, smiling Corell. His face was sharp and bitter, and his eyes squinted down like little dead pig's eyes.

“I should have come before, Colonel,” he said, “but your lack of co-operation made me hesitant.”

Lanser said, “You were waiting for a reply to your report, I remember.”

“I was waiting for much more than that. You refused me a position of authority. You said I was valueless. You did not realize that I was in this town long before you were. You left the Mayor in his office, contrary to my advice.”

Lanser said, “Without him here we might have had more disorder than we have.”

“That is a matter of opinion,” Corell said. “This man is a leader of a rebellious people.”

“Nonsense,” said Lanser; “he's just a simple man.”

With his good hand Corell took a black notebook from his right pocket and opened it with his fingers. “You forgot, Colonel, that I had my sources, that I had been here a long time before you. I have to report to you that Mayor Orden has been in constant contact with every happening in this community. On the night when Lieutenant Tonder was murdered, he was in the house where the murder was committed. When the girl escaped to the hills, she stayed with one of his relatives. I traced her there, but she was gone. Whenever men have escaped, Orden has known about it and has helped them. And I even strongly suspect that he is somewhere in the picture of these little parachutes.”

Lanser said eagerly, “But you can't prove it.”

“No,” Corell said, “I can't prove it. The first thing I know; the last I only suspect. Perhaps now you will be willing to listen to me.”

Lanser said quietly, “What do you suggest?”

“These suggestions, Colonel, are a little stronger than suggestions. Orden must now be a hostage and his life must depend on the peacefulness of this community. His life must depend on the lighting of one single fuse on one single stick of dynamite.”

He reached into his pocket again and brought out a little folding book, and he flipped it open and laid it in front of the colonel. “This, sir, was the answer to my report from headquarters. You will notice that it gives me certain authority.”

Lanser looked at the little book and he spoke quietly. “You really did go over my head, didn't you?” He looked up at Corell with frank dislike in his eyes. “I heard you'd been injured. How did it happen?”

Corell said, “On the night when your lieutenant was murdered I was waylaid. The patrol saved me. Some of the townsmen escaped in my boat that night. Now, Colonel, must I express more strongly than I have that Mayor Orden must be held hostage?”

Lanser said, “He is here, he hasn't escaped. How can we hold him more hostage than we are?”

Suddenly in the distance there was a sound of an explosion, and both men looked around in the direction from which it came. Corell said, “There it is, Colonel, and you know perfectly well that if this experiment succeeds there will be dynamite in every invaded country.”

Lanser repeated quietly, “What do you suggest?”

“Just what I have said. Orden must be held against rebellion.”

“And if they rebel and we shoot Orden?”

“Then that little doctor is next; although he holds no position, he's next authority in the town.”

“But he holds no office.”

“He has the confidence of the people.”

“And when we shoot him, what then?”

“Then we have authority. Then rebellion will be broken. When we have killed the leaders, the rebellion will be broken.”

Lanser asked quizzically, “Do you really think so?”

“It must be so.”

Lanser shook his head slowly and then he called, “Sentry!” The door opened and a soldier appeared in the doorway. “Sergeant,” said Lanser, “I have placed Mayor Orden under arrest, and I have placed Doctor Winter under arrest. You will see to it that Orden is guarded and you will bring Winter here immediately.”

The sentry said, “Yes, sir.”

Lanser looked up at Corell and he said, “You know, I hope you know what you're doing. I do hope you know what you're doing.”

8

In the little town the news ran quickly. It was communicated by whispers in doorways, by quick, meaningful looks—“The Mayor's been arrested”—and through the town a little quiet jubilance ran, a fierce little jubilance, and people talked quietly together and went apart, and people going in to buy food leaned close to the clerks for a moment and a word passed between them.

The people went into the country, into the woods, searching for dynamite. And children playing in the snow found the dynamite, and by now even the children had their instructions. They opened the packages and ate the chocolate, and then they buried the dynamite in the snow and told their parents where it was.

Far out in the country a man picked up a tube and read the instructions and he said to himself, “I wonder if this works.” He stood the tube up in the snow and lighted the fuse, and he ran back from it and counted, but his count was fast. It was sixty-eight before the dynamite exploded. He said, “It does work,” and he went hurriedly about looking for more tubes.

Almost as though at a signal the people went into their houses and the doors were closed, the streets were quiet. At the mine the soldiers carefully searched every miner who went into the shaft, searched and re-searched, and the soldiers were nervous and rough and they spoke harshly to the miners. The miners looked coldly at them, and behind their eyes was a little fierce jubilance.

In the drawing-room of the palace of the Mayor the table had been cleaned up, and a soldier stood guard at Mayor Orden's bedroom door. Annie was on her knees in front of the coal grate, putting little pieces of coal on the fire. She looked up at the sentry standing in front of Mayor Orden's door and she said truculently, “Well, what are you going to do to him?” The soldier did not answer.

The outside door opened and another soldier came in, holding Doctor Winter by the arm. He closed the door behind Doctor Winter and stood against the door inside the room. Doctor Winter said, “Hello, Annie, how's His Excellency?”

And Annie pointed at the bedroom and said, “He's in there.”

“He isn't ill?” Doctor Winter said.

“No, he didn't seem to be,” said Annie. “I'll see if I can tell him you're here.” She went to the sentry and spoke imperiously. “Tell His Excellency that Doctor Winter is here, do you hear me?”

The sentry did not answer and did not move, but behind him the door opened and Mayor Orden stood in the doorway. He ignored the sentry and brushed past him and stepped into the room. For a moment the sentry considered taking him back, and then he returned to his place beside the door. Orden said, “Thank you, Annie. Don't go too far away, will you? I might need you.”

Annie said, “No, sir, I won't. Is Madame all right?”

“She's doing her hair. Do you want to see her, Annie?”

“Yes, sir,” said Annie, and she brushed past the sentry, too, and went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Orden said, “Is there something you want, Doctor?”

Winter grinned sardonically and pointed over his shoulder to his guard. “Well, I guess I'm under arrest. My friend here brought me.”

Orden said, “I suppose it was bound to come. What will they do now, I wonder?” And the two men looked at each other for a long time and each one knew what the other one was thinking.

And then Orden continued as though he had been talking. “You know, I couldn't stop it if I wanted to.”

“I know,” said Winter, “but they don't know.” And he went on with a thought he had been having. “A time-minded people,” he said, “and the time is nearly up. They think that just because they have only one leader and one head, we are all like that. They know that ten heads lopped off will destroy them, but we are a free people; we have as many heads as we have people, and in a time of need leaders pop up among us like mushrooms.”

Orden put his hand on Winter's shoulder and he said, “Thank you. I knew it, but it's good to hear you say it. The little people won't go under, will they?” He searched Winter's face anxiously.

And the doctor reassured him, “Why, no, they won't. As a matter of fact, they will grow stronger with outside help.”

The room was silent for a moment. The sentry shifted his position a little and his rifle clinked on a button.

Orden said, “I can talk to you, Doctor, and I probably won't be able to talk again. There are little shameful things in my mind.” He coughed and glanced at the rigid soldier, but the soldier gave no sign of having heard. “I have been thinking of my own death. If they follow the usual course, they must kill me, and then they must kill you.” And when Winter was silent, he said, “Mustn't they?”

“Yes, I guess so.” Winter walked to one of the gilt chairs, and as he was about to sit down he noticed that its tapestry was torn, and he petted the seat with his fingers as though that would mend it. And he sat down gently because it was torn.

And Orden went on, “You know, I'm afraid, I have been thinking of ways to escape, to get out of it. I have been thinking of running away. I have been thinking of pleading for my life, and it makes me ashamed.”

And Winter, looking up, said, “But you haven't done it.”

“No, I haven't.”

“And you won't do it.”

Orden hesitated. “No, I won't. But I have thought of it.”

And Winter said, gently, “How do you know everyone doesn't think of it? How do you know I haven't thought of it?”

“I wonder why they arrested you, too,” Orden said. “I guess they will have to kill you, too.”

“I guess so,” said Winter. He rolled his thumbs and watched them tumble over and over.

“You know so.” Orden was silent for a moment and then he said, “You know, Doctor, I am a little man and this is a little town, but there must be a spark in little men that can burst into flame. I am afraid, I am terribly afraid, and I thought of all the things I might do to save my own life, and then that went away, and sometimes now I feel a kind of exultation, as though I were bigger and better than I am, and do you know what I have been thinking, Doctor?” He smiled, remembering. “Do you remember in school, in the Apology? Do you remember Socrates says, ‘Someone will say, ”And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life which is likely to bring you to an untimely end?“ To him I may fairly answer, ”There you are mistaken: a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether he is doing right or wrong.” ' ” Orden paused, trying to remember.