Danton heard the conveyor belt moving softly, swiftly behind him, carrying its macabre load. The revolver felt heavy in his hand. Then, from somewhere, a voice crackled in the pit like ice shifting.
"Bring this soldier to the Council Room."
A man's voice, without any particular characteristic other than one of detachment. It might have been the voice of a machine, or something on a tape.
Danton fired seven times ... after that he stopped, because the gun was empty....
Danton fired seven times. After that he stopped because the gun was empty of cartridges. Each time he fired, a man fell soundlessly, without dramatics, calmly. Each time, the man next in line stepped forward to receive the next bullet. After the last bullet was gone, three other men lifted the fallen bodies and placed them on the conveyor belt. Five others surrounded Danton. They did not touch him. If the episode had had any emotional significance at all for these men, Danton hadn't seen it. Further resistance was futile; the firing of the revolver had been only token defiance anyway.
Danton felt the refrigerated air of the pit clinging to him as the men marched him down a long tubular hall walled in dull metal.