Chairman looked up from papers. “In short, the Lunar colonies are going to be civilized and brought into managerial coordination with the rest of civilization. Distasteful as this task has been, I feel—speaking as a citizen rather than as chairman of this committee—I feel that we owe you thanks for bringing to our attention a situation so badly in need of correction.”
Was ready to burn his ears off. “Client-employees!” What a fancy way to say “slaves”! But Prof said tranquilly, “I find the proposed plans most interesting. Is one permitted to ask questions? Purely for information?”
“For information, yes.”
North American member leaned forward. “But don’t assume that we are going to take any backtalk from you cavemen! So mind your manners. You aren’t in the clear on this, you know.”
“Order,” chairman said. “Proceed, Professor.”
“This term ‘client-employee’ I find intriguing. Can it be stipulated that the majority of inhabitants of Earth’s major satellite are not undischarged consignees but free individuals?”
“Certainly,” chairman agreed blandly. “All legal aspects of the new policy have been studied. With minor exceptions some ninety-one percent of the colonists have citizenship, original or derived, in various member nations of the Federated Nations. Those who wish to return to their home countries have a right to do so. You will be pleased to learn that the Authority is considering a plan under which loans for transportation can be arranged … probably under supervision of International Red Cross and Crescent. I might add that I myself am heartily backing this plan—as it renders nonsensical any talk about ‘slave labor.’” He smiled smugly.
“I see,” agreed Prof. “Most humane. Has the committee—or the Authority—pondered the fact that most—effectively all, I should say—considered the fact that inhabitants of Luna are physically unable to live on this planet? That they have undergone involuntary permanent exile through irreversible physiological changes and can never again live in comfort and health in a gravitational field six times greater than that to which their bodies have become adjusted?”
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.”