Bradbury, Ray - SSC 13 (16 page)

 
          
“You
may,” said the mayor. “My son.” He nodded at a small boy who stepped forward.
“He was afflicted with a withered arm. Now, look upon it.”

 
          
At
this the captain laughed tolerantly. “Yes, yes. This isn’t even circumstantial
evidence, you know. I didn’t see the boy’s withered arm. I see only his arm
whole and well. That’s no proof. What proof have you that the boy’s arm was
withered yesterday and today is well?”

 
          
“My
word is my proof,” said the mayor simply.

 
          
“My
dear man!” cried the captain. “You don’t expect me to go on hearsay, do you? Oh
no!”

 
          
“I’m
sorry,” said the mayor, looking upon the captain with what appeared to be
curiosity and pity.

 
          
“Do
you have any pictures of the boy before today?” asked the captain.

 
          
After
a moment a large oil portrait was carried forth, showing the son with a
withered arm.

 
          
“My
dear fellow!” The captain waved it away. “Anybody can paint a picture.
Paintings lie. I want a photograph of the boy.”

 
          
There
was no photograph. Photography was not a known art in their society.

 
          
“Well,”
sighed the captain, face twitching, “let me talk to a few other citizens. We’re
getting nowhere.” He pointed at a woman. “You.” She hesitated. “Yes, you; come
here,” ordered the captain. “Tell me about this
wonderful
man you saw yesterday.”

 
          
The
woman looked steadily at the captain. “He walked among us and was very fine and
good.”

 
          
“What
color were his eyes?”

 
          
“The
color of the sun, the color of the sea, the color of a flower, the color of the
mountains, the color of the night.”

 
          
“That’ll
do.” The captain threw up his hands. “See, Martin? Absolutely nothing. Some charlatan
wanders through whispering sweet nothings in their ears and—”

 
          
“Please,
stop it,” said Martin.

 
          
The
captain stepped back. “What?”

 
          
“You
heard what I said,” said Martin. “I like these people. I believe what they say.
You’re entitled to your opinion, but keep it to yourself, sir.”

 
          
“You
can’t talk to me this way,” shouted the captain.

 
          
“I’ve
had enough of your high-handedness,” replied Martin. “Leave these people alone.
They’ve got something good and decent, and you come and foul up the nest and sneer
at it. Well, I’ve talked to them too. I’ve gone through the city and seen their
faces, and they’ve got something you’ll never have—a little simple faith, and
they’ll move mountains with it. You, you’re boiled because someone stole your
act, got here ahead and made you unimportant!”

 
          
“I’ll
give you five seconds to finish,” remarked the captain. “I understand. You’ve
been under a strain, Martin. Months of traveling in space, nostalgia,
loneliness. And now, with this thing happening, I sympathize, Martin. I
overlook your petty insubordination.”

 
          
“I
don’t overlook your petty tyranny,” replied Martin. “I’m stepping out. I’m
staying here.”

 
          
“You
can’t do that!”

 
          
“Can’t
I? Try and stop me. This is what I came looking for. I didn’t know it, but this
is it. This is for me. Take your filth somewhere else and foul up other nests
with your doubt and your—scientific method!” He looked swiftly about. “These
people have had an experience, and you can’t seem to get it through your head
that it’s really happened and we were lucky enough to almost arrive in time to
be in on it.

 
          
“People
on Earth have talked about this man for twenty centuries after he walked
through the old world. We’ve all wanted to see him and hear him, and never had
the chance. And now, today, we just missed seeing him by a few hours.”

 
          
Captain
Hart looked at Martin’s cheeks. “You’re crying like a baby. Stop it.”

 
          
“I
don’t care.”

 
          
“Well,
I do. In front of these natives we’re to keep up a front. You’re overwrought.
As I said, I forgive you.”

 
          
“I
don’t want your forgiveness.”

 
          
“You
idiot. Can’t you see this is one of Burton’s tricks to fool these people, to
bilk them, to establish his oil and mineral concerns under a religious guise!
You fool, Martin. You absolute fool! You should know Earthmen by now. They’ll
do anything—blaspheme, lie, cheat, steal, kill, to get their ends. Anything is
fine if it works; the true pragmatist, that’s Burton. You know him!”

 
          
The
captain scoffed heavily. “Come off it, Martin, admit it; this is the sort of
scaly thing Burton might carry off, polish up these citizens and pluck them
when they’re ripe.”

 
          
“No,”
said Martin, thinking of it.

 
          
The
captain put his hand up. “That’s Burton. That’s him. That’s his dirt, that’s
his criminal way. I have to admire the old dragon. Flaming in here in a blaze
and a halo and a soft word and a loving touch, with a medicated salve here and
a healing ray there. That’s Burton all right!”

 
          
“No.”
Martin’s voice was dazed. He covered his eyes. “No, I won’t believe it.”

 
          
“You
don’t want to believe.” Captain Hart kept at it. “Admit it now. Admit it! It’s
just the thing Burton would do. Stop day-dreaming, Martin. Wake up! It’s
morning. This is a real world and we’re real, dirty people—Burton the dirtiest
of us all!”

 
          
Martin
turned away.

 
          
“There,
there, Martin,” said Hart, mechanically patting the man’s back. “I understand.
Quite a shock for you. I know. A rotten shame, and all that. That Burton is a
rascal. You go take it easy. Let me handle this.”

 
          
Martin
walked off slowly toward the rocket.

 
          
Captain
Hart watched him go. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned to the woman he had
been questioning. “Well. Tell me some more about this man. As you were saying,
madam?”

 
          
Later
the officers of the rocket ship ate supper on card tables outside. The captain
correlated his data to a silent Martin who sat red-eyed and brooding over his
meal.

 
          
“Interviewed
three dozen people, all of them full of the same milk and hogwash,” said the
captain. “It’s Burton’s work all right, I’m positive. He’ll be spilling back in
here tomorrow or next week to consolidate his miracles and beat us out in our
contracts. I think I’ll stick on and spoil it for him.”

 
          
Martin
glanced up sullenly. “I’ll kill him,” he said.

 
          
“Now,
now, Martin! There, there, boy.”

 
          
“I’ll
kill him—so help me, I will.”

 
          
“We’ll
put an anchor on his wagon. You have to admit he’s clever. Unethical but
clever.”

 
          
“He’s
dirty.”

 
          
“You
must promise not to do anything violent.” Captain Hart checked his figures.
“According to this, there were thirty miracles of healing performed, a blind
man restored to vision, a leper cured. Oh, Burton’s efficient, give him that.”

 
          
A
gong sounded. A moment later a man ran up. “Captain, sir. A report! Burton’s
ship is coming down. Also the Ashley ship, sir!”

 
          
“See!”
Captain Hart beat the table. “Here come the jackals to the harvest! They can’t
wait to feed. Wait till I confront them. I’ll make them cut me in on this
feast—I will!”

 
          
Martin
looked sick. He stared at the captain.

 
          
“Business,
my dear boy, business,” said the captain.

 
          
Everybody
looked up. Two rockets swung down out of the sky. When the rockets landed they
almost crashed.

 
          
“What’s
wrong with those fools?” cried the captain, jumping up. The men ran across the
meadowlands to the steaming ships. The captain arrived. The airlock door popped
open on Burton’s ship.

 
          
A
man fell out into their arms.

 
          
“What’s
wrong?” cried Captain Hart.

 
          
The
man lay on the ground. They bent over him and he was burned, badly burned. His
body was covered with wounds and scars and tissue that was inflamed and
smoking. He looked up out of puffed eyes and his thick tongue moved in his
split lips.

 
          
“What
happened?” demanded the captain, kneeling down, shaking the man’s arm.

 
          
“Sir,
sir,” whispered the dying man. “Forty-eight hours ago, back in Space Sector
Seventy-nine DFS, off Planet One in this system, our ship, and Ashley’s ship,
ran into a cosmic storm, sir.” Blood trickled from his mouth. “Wiped out. All
crew. Burton dead. Ashley died an hour ago. Only three survivals.”

 
          
“Listen
to me!” shouted Hart, bending over the bleeding man. “You didn’t come to this
planet before this very hour?”

 
          
Silence.

 
          
“Answer
me!” cried Hart.

 
          
The
dying man said, “No. Storm. Burton dead two days ago. This first landing on any
world in six months.”

 
          
“Are
you sure?” shouted Hart, shaking violently, gripping the man in his hands. “Are
you sure?”

 
          
“Sure,
sure,” mouthed the dying man.

 
          
“Burton
died two days ago? You’re positive?”

 
          
“Yes,
yes,” whispered the man. His head fell forward. The man was dead.

 
          
The
captain knelt beside the silent body. The captain’s face twitched, the muscles
jerking involuntarily. The other members of the crew stood back of him looking
down. Martin waited. The captain asked to be helped to his feet, finally, and
this was done. They stood looking at the city. “That means—”

 
          
“That
means?” said Martin.

 
          
“We’re
the only ones who’ve been here,” whispered Captain Hart. “And that man—”

 
          
“What
about that man, Captain?” asked Martin.

 
          
The
captain’s face twitched senselessly. He looked very old indeed, and gray. His
eyes were glazed. He moved forward in the dry grass.

 
          
“Come
along, Martin. Come along. Hold me up; for my sake, hold me. I’m afraid I’ll
fall. And hurry. We can’t waste time—”

 
          
They
moved, stumbling, toward the city, in the long dry grass, in the blowing wind.

 
          
Several
hours later they were sitting in the mayor’s auditorium. A thousand people had
come and talked and gone. The captain had remained seated, his face haggard,
listening, listening. There was so much light in the faces of those who came
and testified and talked he could not bear to see them. And all the while his
hands traveled, on his knees, together; on his belt, jerking and quivering.