Scoundrel pursed lips as if considering totally new idea. “Speaking again for myself, I would not be prepared to stipulate that what you say is necessarily true. It might be true of some, might not be others; people vary widely. Your presence here proves that it is not impossible for a Lunar inhabitant to return to Earth. In any case we have no intention of forcing anyone to return. We hope that they will choose to stay and we hope to encourage others to emigrate to the Moon. But these are individual choices, under the freedoms guaranteed by the Great Charter. But as to this alleged physiological phenomenon–it is not a legal matter. If anyone deems it prudent, or thinks he would be happier, to stay on the Moon, that’s his privilege.”
“I see, sir. We are free. Free to remain in Luna and work, at tasks and for wages set by you. . . or free to return to Earth to die.”
Chairman shrugged. “You assume that we are villians–we’re not. Why, if I were a young man I would emigrate to the Moon myself. Great opportunities! In any case I am not troubled by your distortions–history will justify us.”
Was surprised at Prof; he was not fighting. Worried about him–weeks of strain and a bad night on top. All he said was, “Honorable Chairman, I assume that shipping to Luna will soon be resumed. Can passage be arranged for my colleague and myself in the first ship? For I must admit, sir, that this gravitational weakness of which I spoke is, in our cases, very real. Our mission is completed; we need to go home.”
(Not a word about grain barges. Nor about “throwing rocks,” nor even futility of beating a cow. Prof just sounded tired.)
Chairman leaned forward and spoke with grim satisfaction. “Professor, that presents difficulties. To put it bluntly, you appear to be guilty of treason against the Great Charter, indeed against all humanity . . . and an indictment is being considered. I doubt if anything more than a suspended sentence would be invoked against a man of your age and physical condition, however. Do you think it would be prudent of us to give you passage back to the place where you committed these acts–there to stir up more mischief?”
Prof sighed. “I understand your point. Then, sir, may I be excused? I am weary.”
“Certainly. Hold yourself at the disposal of this committee. The hearing stands adjourned. Colonel Davis–”
“Sir?” I was directing wheel chair around, to get Prof out at once; our attendants had been sent outside.
“A word with you, please. In my office.”
“Uh–” Looked at Prof; eyes were closed and seemed unconscious. But he moved one finger, motioning me to him. “HonorabIe Chairman, I’m more nurse than diplomat; have to look after him. He’s an old man, he’s ill.”
“The attendants will take care of him.”
“Well. . .” Got as close to Prof as I could from chair, leaned over him. “Prof, are you right?”
He barely whispered. “See what he wants. Agree with him. But stall.”
Moments later was alone with chairman, soundproof door locked–meant nothing; room could have a dozen ears, plus one in my left arm.
He said, “A drink? Coffee?”
I answered, “No, thank you, sir. Have to watch my diet here.”
“I suppose so. Are you really limited to that chair? You look healthy.”
I said, “I could, if had to, get up and walk across room. Might faint. Or worse. Prefer not to risk. Weigh six times what I should. Heart’s not used to it.”
“I suppose so. Colonel, I hear you had some silly trouble in North America. I’m sorry, I truly am. Barbaric place. Always hate to have to go there. I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to see you.”
“No, sir, assume you’ll tell when suits you. Instead was wondering why you still call me ‘Colonel.'”
He gave a barking laugh. “Habit, I suppose. A lifetime of protocol. Yet it might be well for you to continue with that title. Tell me, what do you think of our five-year plan?”
Thought it stunk. “Seems to have been carefully thought out.”