The Mouse That Roared (18 page)

“Is Her Majesty’s Government aware,” he asked, “of reports that the Duchy of Grand Fenwick has declared war upon the United States of America and that an expeditionary force of the duchy is believed to have invaded New York City and seized a bomb known as the quadium bomb, which, according to report, is capable of destroying an enormous area?”

The Foreign Secretary rose slowly, gave a slight bow and said, “Her Majesty’s Government is fully acquainted with all the facts of the case.” Then he sat down again.

“Is Her Majesty’s Government prepared to reveal what steps are being taken, if any, to deal with the problems arising out of this situation?” the Honourable Byron Partridge persisted.

The Foreign Secretary leaned over to whisper in the ear of the Prime Minister, who was seated next to him. The Prime Minister appeared to be asleep. His eyes were closed and, in the silence, honourable members could hear what sounded like a slight snore coming from him. When the Foreign Secretary had finished whispering, however, the Prime Minister was heard to snort like a bulldog and say distinctly, “Your pigeon, Tony.”

The Foreign Secretary rose again and surveyed the House slowly, starting with the lower benches opposite him and ending with a glance at the Distinguished Strangers’ Gallery, where he had been informed the Russian Ambassador was seated, having come to hear the debate.

He put his hands in the pockets of his trousers and swaying slightly on his feet, said, “I would call the attention of the Honourable Member for North Westhampton to the treaty concluded between the Duchy of Grand Fenwick and the kingdom of England in the year 1402. Under the provisions of this treaty, Her Majesty’s Government is obliged to send full and sufficient assistance--I quote the precise wording--to the Duchy of Grand Fenwick should it be threatened by any foreign power, whatsoever.

“Her Majesty’s Government is satisfied that the present situation calls for the implementation of this clause of the Treaty of 1402, the original of which the Honourable Member may examine in the Records Office if he so desires. The House, I am sure, will not expect details of troop movements at this time, but I believe it is in order to divulge that eight divisions are involved, four of them airborne. I shall myself be leaving shortly to assure Her Grace the Duchess Gloriana XII personally of our intention to fulfil the provisions of this ancient and honourable pact in all their implications.” The Foreign Secretary sat down.

There was a burst of cheering in which the members of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition joined. The Russian Ambassador glared down at the Foreign Secretary, who was smiling upward in his direction, and rushed out.

In Paris a resolution to send similar aid to the defence of the duchy was made in the Chamber of Deputies. But the Government collapsed over the issue of overtime rates for taxi drivers before the motion could be voted on.

In the Duchy of Grand Fenwick, the meeting of the Privy Council to discuss the Q-bomb was the most extraordinary of all those held, whether in Moscow, in Washington, in London, or in Paris. For the most important person at the meeting, indeed, the individual who held the key to its success or its failure, was the captured American scientist, Dr. Kokintz. And he was placed in the peculiar situation of being called upon to help his captors secure the full fruits of their victory by giving them advice about the Q-bomb.

Dr. Kokintz was much perturbed about his situation. He was seated at one side in the Great Hall of Fenwick Castle. At a table a little distance away were the members of the Privy Council. There were present Duchess Gloriana, the Count of Mountjoy, Mr. Benter, Tully Bascomb, as high constable of the Fenwick Army, and by special invitation his father, Pierce Bascomb, invited because he was acknowledged to be the wisest and the most learned man in the whole duchy. It was not the presence of his captors that disturbed Dr. Kokintz, nor the fact that they were dressed in the garb of the fourteenth century. Nor was he upset about the mailed soldiers, both of them well over six feet, who stood on either side of him. What caused him his anguish was the emotional and mental conflict within him between patriotism and humanitarianism; between Dr. Kokintz, loyal citizen of the United States, and Dr. Kokintz, foremost scientist of the world, whose training and knowledge he sometimes felt belonged not to one country, but to all, since it involved the fate of all.

The Count of Mountjoy had taken the leading part in the proceedings. He had pleaded, argued, and demanded that the Q-bomb be taken back to the United States immediately since it represented a constant and imminent menace to all the people of the duchy. “This man has brought disaster to our country,” he exclaimed, pointing to Tully. “He has imported a powder keg and demanded that we all sit upon it. I say, in the presence of his revered father, that he has in the past raised grave suspicions of his loyalty to this nation. And I say, equally, in his father’s presence, that his monstrous seizure of this infernal machine, and his bringing of it back to Grand Fenwick is nothing more than a plot to exterminate the country, unless some secret terms of his, not yet revealed, are met.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tully demanded.

“My meaning must be perfectly plain to any who have made a study of the pedigree of the families of Grand Fenwick,” the Count replied, suavely. “Your own pedigree traces back through illegitimate birth to Sir Roger Fenwick. I find that a statute of the Council of Freemen of 1385 sets aside all claims to the ducal chair of Grand Fenwick advanced by one, Tully Bascomb, who is identified as the son, born out of wedlock, of Sir Roger and a woman, Marion Bascomb, who was Sir Roger’s mistress. You cannot pretend to be unaware of this pedigree.”

Gloriana glanced at Tully and realized now the source of the strange likeness between him and her distinguished ancestor.

“I am not only unaware of it,” flared Tully, “but I say that you lie. And if you are man enough to resent the statement, the matter may be taken up at your convenience.”

Gloriana intervened before the quarrel could go further. She ordered the Count of Mountjoy to withdraw his allegation and apologize, and Tully to accept the apology and set aside his anger. “We have need of the services of both of you,” Gloriana said, “and forbid this difference between you.” So the matter was patched up for the while.

Mr. Benter, next to voice his opinion, said that he could not agree with the Count of Mountjoy that the Q-bomb should be restored to the United States. “It is a weapon which, anxious as we are to get rid of, they must be more anxious to regain. If we keep it, we may succeed in obtaining from the United States terms of peace which will assure the prosperity of the nation for years to come. And when all is said and done that is why we went to war with the Americans.”

“We need to think bigger than this, Your Grace,” Tully said, by way of reminding her publicly of his previous conversation. “It is not a matter of whether we keep the bomb and Dr. Kokintz, or send them back. We will be no safer if we send them back than if the bomb and its inventor remain guarded here. In fact, we will be less safe. For if ever such bombs as this are used in a war they will surely destroy us, even though we are not involved in the hostilities. By keeping the bomb and Kokintz here, we have a small measure of safety. But what we must devise is a plan to ensure that the bomb is never used, nor any others ever manufactured. And that is something on which one man alone is best qualified to advise.” He turned towards Dr. Kokintz.

“This man,” he said, “made this bomb. He claims he made it because of a fear that the Russians might make one first. And it is his belief that if the Russians made one they would not hesitate to use it if there was any need. He called this bomb a weapon of peace. Maybe he only said that to salve his conscience. But we can now put him to the test and see whether he is prepared to use his knowledge to prevent the manufacture of such weapons in the future, anywhere in the world.”

Gloriana turned to Dr. Kokintz. “Do you have anything to say?” she asked.

Dr. Kokintz stood courteously and gave her a slow bow. “What am I to say?” he asked. “If I take part in these proceedings, I will be a traitor to my own country. I am a citizen of the United States with whom you are at war. You are enemies of my country. I can say nothing.”

“Dr. Kokintz,” said Tully, “you hide behind a sham. You are supposed to have more intelligence than any man in the world. Yet you pretend you cannot tell the difference between a false position and a true one. You say that you are a citizen of the United States, but ignore the fact that you are first a member of the human race. You say that your duty lies to America, but where does your duty to the human race lie? Does your position as a citizen of the United States give you the right to make a weapon which can destroy millions of your fellow beings? Which comes first, your duty to your own kind or your duty to your country?”

“I do not know,” Dr. Kokintz replied, wearily. “I do not know. All I know is that when they try me, it will not be as a member of the human race, but as a citizen of the United States.”

“You know, but you will not admit it,” said Tully, contemptuously. “You are nothing more than an educated serf. You take orders involving the fate of millions which you alone can carry out, and then you try to escape from the consequences of obeying these orders by calling it patriotism.”

Dr. Kokintz took off his thick glasses and, his hands clenched by his sides, advanced towards Tully.

“You are a young man,” he said, “and so you talk of high principles not from knowledge of them, but through ignorance. The problem which confronts me is one with which you will never be confronted. Scientists such as I have become creatures of another world. Our very work deprives us of the normal moral values which guide the layman. No one understands what we do but ourselves. We communicate with each other in a language which can only be understood by ourselves and by no others--the language of nuclear physics. We know better than anyone else the terrible potentialities of our work. Yet we are bound by the laws of other men. We are gods or devils, whichever the others make us. The harm or good which comes from our work is their choice and their doing. It is they who decide whether millions will die or whether they will live such lives as have never been lived before--longer lives, happier lives, lives freer of disease. Do not condemn the scientist, young man. Condemn rather the laymen of all nations who control the scientists; the laymen who cannot agree among themselves and as a result compel us to play the part of destroyer. War existed before science. The crime which is done now is that war has made a tool and slave of science, and man’s knowledge, painfully and laboriously compiled, is made the instrument of man’s destruction.”

In all this time, Pierce Bascomb had been sitting quietly at the council table, quite untroubled by the accusations against his son or the impassioned defence by Dr. Kokintz of his position. A bird chirped in the courtyard outside and he cocked his head to listen to it. The bird burst into a melodic cadenza, running through a double octave and then ending on two comical little notes as if the whole thing were a joke. Dr. Kokintz listened to it and smiled. He turned to look at the guards on either side of him and noticed that they were smiling too, like pleased children.

“That is one of our Grand Fenwick sparrows,” one of them whispered. “In early summer I have been told they sing more bravely than sparrows anywhere else in the world.”

Pierce Bascomb rose, now that the tension was broken, and bowing to Gloriana, said, “Your Grace, I have a suggestion to make concerning Dr. Kokintz. He has been taken from his own country and brought on a long journey to a strange land. He is our prisoner, but this is really nothing new to him, for he has not been a free man for many, many years. He has been compelled to work at tasks against which his conscience as a man must frequently have rebelled. He has lived a life of doubt and anxiety with burdens weighing on him heavier than any others, perhaps, have had to shoulder.

“Let us adjourn this meeting for an hour or so, and let Dr. Kokintz come with me not as a prisoner, but as a free, fellow human being. I would like to take him to our National Forest, so that for the first time in many years, he can feel again what it is like to be a truly free man, relieved of all restrictions and burdens.”

“We must send a guard with him,” the Count of Mountjoy said. “He may escape. The forest is not too far from the border. We do not want to be left with this bomb and without the man who can control it.”

“I do not believe he will try to escape,” Pierce Bascomb said gently.

“Let him give his parole that he will not try,” Mountjoy rejoined.

“I do not believe that we should put any restriction upon him,” Pierce replied slowly. “We cannot force a man to help us with our problem. If he helps at all, it must be the result of his own free desire to do so. It must be because he recognizes a higher duty than that which he owes to his own nation. And he must discover this for himself. But he cannot discover it while he is our prisoner, or while he is tied by loyalties and patriotism to the service of his own nation. Let him, for an hour or so, be just a man without any ties or pressures--a free man, no more and no less.”

“Sir,” Tully said to his father, “I am not sure that this is a wise proposal. You have not been about the world as much as I. There is a lot in every man that is deceitful and selfish and treacherous. I do not believe that we can trust this scientist. He will try to escape, and you could not prevent him.”

Pierce looked at his son with mild reproof. “It is true that there is a great deal in man that is deceitful,” he said. “But the deepest force in any man is towards good. It is for that reason that the murderer will help a child across a fence, and the soldier secretly visit the cemeteries of his enemy. When a man denies the goodness in himself, that is when he really suffers. I believe Dr. Kokintz has been made to suffer a great deal in this way. There is good in him, but it has never had an opportunity of asserting itself. I believe it is time he was given a chance to review his work, and without pressure from one side or another, let his conscience decide whether he should continue to make more of these bombs or lend his training to prevent any more being made.”