The Moon Is Down (8 page)

“He deserves credit, certainly,” Tonder said.

“Yes,” Lanser said, “and don't think he won't claim it.”

Corell came in, rubbing his hands. He radiated good-will and good-fellowship. He was dressed still in his black business suit, but on his head there was a patch of white bandage, stuck to his hair with a cross of adhesive tape. He advanced to the center of the room and said, “Good morning, Colonel. I should have called yesterday after the trouble downstairs, but I knew how busy you would be.”

The colonel said, “Good morning.” Then with a circular gesture of his hand. “This is my staff, Mr. Corell.”

“Fine boys,” said Corell. “They did a good job. Well, I tried to prepare for them well.”

Hunter looked down at his board and he took out an inking-pen and dipped it and began to ink in his drawing.

Lanser said, “You did very well. I wish you hadn't killed those six men, though. I wish their soldiers hadn't come back.”

Corell spread his hands and said comfortably, “Six men is a small loss for a town of this size, with a coal mine, too.”

Lanser said sternly, “I am not averse to killing people if that finishes it. But sometimes it is better not to.”

Corell had been studying the officers. He looked sideways at the lieutenants, and he said, “Could we—perhaps—talk alone, Colonel?”

“Yes, if you wish. Lieutenant Prackle and Lieutenant Tonder, will you go to your room, please?” And the colonel said to Corell, “Major Hunter is working. He doesn't hear anything when he's working.” Hunter looked up from his board and smiled quietly and looked down again. The young lieutenants left the room, and when they were gone Lanser said, “Well, here we are. Won't you sit down?”

“Thank you, sir,” and Corell sat down behind the table.

Lanser looked at the bandage on Corell's head. He said bluntly, “Have they tried to kill you already?”

Corell felt the bandage with his fingers. “This? Oh, this was a stone that fell from a cliff in the hills this morning.”

“You're sure it wasn't thrown?”

“What do you mean?” Corell asked. “These aren't fierce people. They haven't had a war for a hundred years. They've forgotten about fighting.”

“Well, you've lived among them,” said the colonel. “You ought to know.” He stepped close to Corell. “But if you are safe, these people are different from any in the world. I've helped to occupy countries before. I was in Belgium twenty years ago and in France.” He shook his head a little as though to clear it, and he said gruffly, “You did a good job. We should thank you. I mentioned your work in my report.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Corell. “I did my best.”

Lanser said, a little wearily, “Well, sir, now what shall we do? Would you like to go back to the capital? We can put you on a coal barge if you're in a hurry, or on a destroyer if you want to wait.”

Corell said, “But I don't want to go back. I'll stay here.”

Lanser studied this for a moment and he said, “You know, I haven't a great many men. I can't give you a very adequate bodyguard.”

“But I don't need a bodyguard. I tell you these aren't violent people.”

Lanser looked at the bandage for a moment. Hunter glanced up from his board and remarked, “You'd better start wearing a helmet.” He looked down at his work again.

Now Corell moved forward in his chair. “I wanted particularly to talk to you, Colonel. I thought I might help with the civil administration.”

Lanser turned on his heel and walked to the window and looked out, and then he swung around and said quietly, “What have you in mind?”

“Well, you must have a civil authority you can trust. I thought perhaps that Mayor Orden might step down now and—well, if I were to take over his office, it and the military would work very nicely together.”

Lanser's eyes seemed to grow large and bright. He came close to Corell and he spoke sharply. “Have you mentioned this in your report?”

Corell said, “Well, yes, naturally—in my analysis.”

Lanser interrupted. “Have you talked to any of the town people since we arrived—outside of the Mayor, that is?”

“Well, no. You see, they are still a bit startled. They didn't expect it.” He chuckled. “No, sir, they certainly didn't expect it.”

But Lanser pressed his point. “So you don't really know what's going on in their minds?”

“Why, they're startled,” said Corell. “They're—well, they're almost dreaming.”

“You don't know what they think of you?” Lanser asked.

“I have many friends here. I know everyone.”

“Did anyone buy anything in your store this morning?”

“Well, of course, business is at a standstill,” Corell answered. “No one's buying anything.”

Lanser relaxed suddenly. He went to a chair and sat down and crossed his legs. He said quietly, “Yours is a difficult and brave branch of the service. It should be greatly rewarded.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You will have their hatred in time,” said the colonel.

“I can stand that, sir. They are the enemy.”

Now Lanser hesitated a long moment before he spoke, and then he said softly, “You will not even have our respect.”

Corell jumped to his feet excitedly. “This is contrary to the Leader's words!” he said. “The Leader has said that all branches are equally honorable.”

Lanser went on very quietly, “I hope the Leader knows. I hope he can read the minds of soldiers.” And then almost compassionately he said, “You should be greatly rewarded.” For a moment he sat quietly and then he pulled himself together and said, “Now we must come to exactness. I am in charge here. My job is to get coal out. To do that I must maintain order and discipline, and to do that I must know what is in the minds of these people. I must anticipate revolt. Do you understand that?”

“Well, I can find out what you wish to know, sir. As Mayor here, I will be very effective,” said Corell.

Lanser shook his head. “I have no orders about this. I must use my own judgment. I think you will never again know what is going on here. I think no one will speak to you; no one will be near to you except those people who will live on money, who can live on money. I think without a guard you will be in great danger. It will please me if you go back to the capital, there to be rewarded for your fine work.”

“But my place is here, sir,” said Corell. “I have made my place. It is all in my report.”

Lanser went on as though he had not heard. “Mayor Orden is more than a mayor,” he said. “He is his people. He knows what they are doing, thinking, without asking, because he will think what they think. By watching him I will know them. He must stay. That is my judgment.”

Corell said, “My work, sir, merits better treatment than being sent away.”

“Yes, it does,” Lanser said slowly. “But to the larger work I think you are only a detriment now. If you are not hated yet, you will be. In any little revolt you will be the first to be killed. I think I will suggest that you go back.”

Corell said stiffly, “You will, of course, permit me to wait for a reply to my report to the capital?”

“Yes, of course. But I shall recommend that you go back for your own safety. Frankly, Mr. Corell, you have no value here. But—well, there must be other plans and other countries. Perhaps you will go now to some new town in some new country. You will win new confidence in a new field. You may be given a larger town, even a city, a greater responsibility. I think I will recommend you highly for your work here.”

Corell's eyes were shining with gratification. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I've worked hard. Perhaps you are right. But you must permit me to wait for the reply from the capital.”

Lanser's voice was tight. His eyes were slitted. He said harshly, “Wear a helmet, keep indoors, do not go out at night, and, above all, do not drink. Trust no woman nor any man. Do you understand that?”

Corell looked pityingly at the colonel. “I don't think you understand. I have a little house. A pleasant country girl waits on me. I even think she's a little fond of me. These are simple, peaceful people. I know them.”

Lanser said, “There are no peaceful people. When will you learn it? There are no friendly people. Can't you understand that? We have invaded this country—you, by what they call treachery, prepared for us.” His face grew red and his voice rose. “Can't you understand that we are at war with these people?”

Corell said, a little smugly, “We have defeated them.”

The colonel stood up and swung his arms helplessly, and Hunter looked up from his board and put his hand out to protect his board from being jiggled. Hunter said, “Careful now, sir. I'm inking in. I wouldn't want to do it all over again.”

Lanser looked down at him and said, “Sorry,” and went on as though he were instructing a class. He said, “Defeat is a momentary thing. A defeat doesn't last. We were defeated and now we attack. Defeat means nothing. Can't you understand that? Do you know what they are whispering behind doors?”

Corell asked, “Do you?”

“No, but I suspect.”

Then Corell said insinuatingly, “Are you afraid, Colonel? Should the commander of this occupation be afraid?”

Lanser sat down heavily and said, “Maybe that's it.” And he said disgustedly, “I'm tired of people who have not been at war who know all about it.” He held his chin in his hand and said, “I remember a little old woman in Brussels—sweet face, white hair; she was only four feet eleven; delicate old hands. You could see the veins almost black against her skin. And her black shawl and her blue-white hair. She used to sing our national songs to us in a quivering, sweet voice. She always knew where to find a cigarette or a virgin.” He dropped his hand from his chin, and he caught himself as though he had been asleep. “We didn't know her son had been executed,” he said. “When we finally shot her, she had killed twelve men with a long, black hatpin. I have it yet at home. It has an enamel button with a bird over it, red and blue.”

Corell said, “But you shot her?”

“Of course we shot her.”

“And the murders stopped?” asked Corell.

“No, the murders did not stop. And when we finally retreated, the people cut off stragglers and they burned some and they gouged the eyes from some, and some they even crucified.”

Corell said loudly, “These are not good things to say, Colonel.”

“They are not good things to remember,” said Lanser.

Corell said, “You should not be in command if you are afraid.”

And Lanser answered softly, “I know how to fight, you see. If you know, at least you do not make silly errors.”

“Do you talk this way to the young officers?”

Lanser shook his head. “No, they wouldn't believe me.”

“Why do you tell me, then?”

“Because, Mr. Corell, your work is done. I remember one time—” and as he spoke there was a tumble of feet on the stairs and the door burst open. A sentry looked in and Captain Loft brushed past him. Loft was rigid and cold and military; he said, “There's trouble, sir.”

“Trouble?”

“I have to report, sir, that Captain Bentick has been killed.”

Lanser said, “Oh—yes—Bentick!”

There was the sound of a number of footsteps on the stairs and two stretcher-bearers came in, carrying a figure covered with blankets.

Lanser said, “Are you sure he's dead?”

“Quite sure,” Loft said stiffly.

The lieutenants came in from the bedroom, their mouths a little open, and they looked frightened. Lanser said, “Put him down there,” and he pointed to the wall beside the windows. When the bearers had gone, Lanser knelt and lifted a corner of the blanket and then quickly put it down again. And still kneeling, he looked at Loft and said, “Who did this?”

“A miner,” said Loft.

“Why?”

“I was there, sir.”

“Well, make your report, then! Make your report, damn it, man!”

Loft drew himself up and said formally, “I had just relieved Captain Bentick, as the colonel ordered. Captain Bentick was about to leave to come here when I had some trouble about a recalcitrant miner who wanted to quit work. He shouted something about being a free man. When I ordered him to work, he rushed at me with his pick. Captain Bentick tried to interfere.” He gestured slightly toward the body.

Lanser, still kneeling, nodded slowly. “Bentick was a curious man,” he said. “He loved the English. He loved everything about them. I don't think he liked to fight very much.... You captured the man?”

“Yes, sir,” Loft said.

Lanser stood up slowly and spoke as though to himself. “So it starts again. We will shoot this man and make twenty new enemies. It's the only thing we know, the only thing we know.”

Prackle said, “What do you say, sir?”

Lanser answered, “Nothing, nothing at all. I was just thinking.” He turned to Loft and said, “Please give my compliments to Mayor Orden and my request that he see me immediately. It is very important.”

Major Hunter looked up, dried his inking-pen carefully, and put it away in a velvet-lined box.

3

In the town the people moved sullenly through the streets. Some of the light of astonishment was gone from their eyes, but still a light of anger had not taken its place. In the coal shaft the workingmen pushed the coal cars sullenly. The small tradesmen stood behind their counters and served the people, but no one communicated with them. The people spoke to one another in monosyllables, and everyone was thinking of the war, thinking of himself, thinking of the past and how it had suddenly been changed.