Read Red Planet Online

Authors: Robert A. Heinlein

Tags: #Science Fiction/Fantasy, #General, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Classics, #Life on other planets, #Mars (Planet), #Boys

Red Planet (18 page)

BOOK: Red Planet
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'We don't need them, Jamie,’ MacRae assured him. He turned to the crowd, now growing fast. ‘Who wants a meeting? Who wants to hear what Marlowe has to tell us?’

'I do!’ came a shout.

'Who's that? Oh—Kelly. All right, Kelly and I make two. Are there eighteen more here who don't have to ask Kruger for permission to sneeze? Speak up.’

There was another shout and another. ‘That's three—and four.’ Seconds later MacRae called off the twentieth; he turned to the Resident. ‘Get your stooges out of that doorway, Kruger.’

Kruger sputtered. Hendrix whispered with him, then motioned the two proctors away. They were only too happy to treat this as a relayed order from Kruger; the crowd poured into the hall.

Kruger took a seat in the rear; ordinarily he sat on the platform.

Jim's father found that none of the councillors cared to preside; he stepped to the platform himself. ‘Let's elect a chairman,’ he announced.

'You run it, Jamie.’ It was Doc MacRae.

'Let's have order, please. Do I hear a nomination?’

'Mr Chairman —’

'Yes, Mr Konski?’

'I nominate you.’

'Very well. Now let's have some others.’ But there were none; he kept the gavel by unanimous consent.

Mr Marlowe told them that news had come to him which vitally affected the colony. He then gave the bald facts about how Willis had come into Howe's hands. Kruger stood up. ‘Marlowe!’

'Address the chair, please.’

'Mr Chairman,’ Kruger acceded sourly, ‘you said this meeting was not to stir up sympathy for your son. You are simply trying to keep him from having to take his medicine. You —’

Mr Marlowe pounded his gavel. ‘You're out of order. Sit down.’

'I won't sit down. You had the bare-faced gall to —’

'Mr Kelly, I appoint you sergeant-at-arms. Keep order. Pick your own deputies.’

Kruger sat down. Mr Marlowe went on, ‘This meeting has nothing to do with the charges against my son and Pat Sutton's boy, but the news I have came through them. You've all seen Martian roundheads—bouncers, the kids call them, and you know their amazing ability to repeat sounds. Probably most of you have heard my son's pet perform. It happened that this particular roundhead was within hearing when some things were discussed that we all need to know about. Jim—bring your pet here.’

Jim, feeling self-conscious, mounted the platform and sat Willis on the speaker's table. Willis looked around and promptly battened down all hatches. ‘Jim,’ his father whispered urgently, ‘snap him out of it.’

'I'll try,’ agreed Jim. ‘Come on, boy. Nobody's going to hurt Willis. Come out; Jim wants to talk to you.’

His father said to the audience, ‘These creatures are timid. Please be very quiet.’ Then, ‘How about it, Jim?’

'I'm trying.’

'Confound it, we should have made a recording.’

Willis chose this minute to come out of hiding. ‘Look, Willis boy,’ Jim went on, ‘Jim wants you to talk. Everybody is waiting for Willis to talk. Come on, now. Good afternoon. Good afternoon, Mark.’

Willis picked it up. ‘Sit down, my boy. Always happy to see you.’ He went on, reeling off the words of Howe and Beecher.

Somebody recognized Beecher's voice; there was a muffled exclamation as he passed his knowledge on. Mr Marlowe made frantic shushing signs.

Presently, as Beecher was expounding by proxy his theory of ‘legitimate graft', Kruger got up. Kelly placed hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. Kruger started to protest; Kelly placed a hand over Kruger's mouth. He then smiled; it was something he had been wanting to do ever since Kruger had first been assigned to the colony.

The audience got restless between the two significant conversations; Mr Marlowe promised by pantomime that the best was yet to come. He need not have worried; Willis, once wound up, was as hard to stop as an after-dinner speaker.

There was amazed silence when he had finished, then a murmur that became a growl. It changed to uproar as everyone tried to talk at once. Marlowe pounded for order and Willis closed up. Presently Andrews, a young technician, got the floor.

'Mr Chairman ... we know how important this is, if it's true—but how reliable is that beastie?’

'Eh? I don't think it's possible for one of them to repeat other than
verbatim.
Is there a psychological expert present who might give us an opinion? How about you, Dr Ibañez?’

'I agree, Mr Marlowe. A roundhead can originate speech on its mental level, but a speech such as we just heard is something it has listened to. It repeats parrot-fashion exactly what it has heard. I doubt if such a recording, if I may call it that, may be modified after it has been impressed on the animal's nervous system; it's an involuntary reflex—complicated and beautiful, but reflex nevertheless.’

'Does that satisfy you, Andy?’

'Uh, no. Everybody knows that a bouncer is just a superparrot and not smart enough to lie. But is that the Resident General's voice? It sounds like it, but I've only heard him over the radio.’

Someone called out, ‘It's Beecher. I had to listen to his drivel often enough, when I was stationed at Syrtis.’

Andrews shook his head. ‘Sure, it sounds like him, but we've got to
know
. It could be a clever actor.’

Kruger had been quiet, in a condition resembling shock. The revelation had come as a surprise to him, too, as Beecher had not dared trust anyone on the spot. But Kruger's conscience was not easy; there were tell-tale signs in his own despatch file that Willis's report was correct; migration required a number of routine orders from the planet office. He was uncomfortably aware that none of the proper groundwork had been laid if, as was the official claim, migration were to take place in less than two weeks.

But Andrews’ comment gave him a straw to clutch. Standing, he said, ‘I'm glad somebody has sense enough not to be swindled. How long did it take you to teach him that, Marlowe?’

Kelly said, ‘Shall I gag him, chief?’

'No. This has to be met. I suppose it's a matter of whether or not you believe my boy and his chum. Do any of you wish to question them?’

A long, lean, lanky individual unfolded himself from a rear seat. ‘I can settle it.’

'Eh? Very well, Mr Toland, you have the floor.’

'Got to get some apparatus. Take a few minutes.’ Toland was an electronics engineer and sound technician.

'Oh—I think I see what you mean. You'll need a comparison model of Beecher's voice, won't you?’

'Sure. But I've got all I need. Every time Beecher made a speech, Kruger wanted it recorded.’

Volunteers were found to help Toland, then Marlowe suggested that it was time for a stretch. At once Mrs Pottle stood up. ‘Mr Marlowe!’

'Yes, Mrs Pottle. Quiet, everybody.’

'I for one will not remain here one minute longer and listen to this nonsense! The idea of making such charges against dear Mr Beecher! To say nothing of what you let that awful man Kelly do to Mr Kruger! And as for that beast —’ She pointed to Willis. ‘It is utterly unreliable, as I know full well.’ She paused to snort, then said, ‘Come, dear,’ to Mr Pottle, and started to flounce out.

'Stop her, Kelly!’ Mr Marlowe went on quietly, ‘I had hoped that no one would try to leave until we reached a decision. If the colony decides to act it may be to our advantage to keep it as a surprise. Will the meeting authorize me to take steps to see that no scooter leaves the colony until you have made up your minds about the issue?’

There was just one ‘no', from Mrs Pottle. ‘Conscript some help, Mr Kelly,’ Marlowe ordered, ‘and carry out the will of the meeting.’

'Right, chief!’

'You can go now, Mrs Pottle. Not you, Mr Kruger.’ Mr Pottle hesitated in bewilderment, then trotted after his wife.

Toland returned and set up his apparatus on the platform. With Jim's help, Willis was persuaded to perform again, this time into a recorder. Shortly Toland held up his hand. ‘That's enough. Let me find some matching words.’ He selected ‘colony', ‘company', ‘afternoon', and ‘Martian’ because they were easy to find in each recording, Willis's and an identified radio speech of the Resident General. Each he checked with care, throwing complex standing waves on the bright screen of an oscilloscope, waves that ear-marked the peculiar timbre of an individual's voice as certainly as a fingerprint would identify his body.

At last he stood up. ‘It's Beecher's voice,’ he said flatly.

Jim's father again had to pound for order. When he had got it, he said, ‘Very well—what is your pleasure?’

Someone shouted, ‘Let's lynch Beecher.’ The chairman suggested that they stick to practical objectives.

Someone else called out, ‘What's Kruger got to say about it?’

Marlowe turned to Kruger. ‘Mr Resident Agent, you speak for the Company. What about it?’

Kruger wet his lips. ‘If one assumes that that beast is actually reporting statements of the Agent-General —’

'Quit stalling!’

'Toland proved it!’

Kruger's eyes darted around; he was faced with a decision impossible for a man of his temperament. ‘Well, it's really no business of mine,’ he said angrily. ‘I'm about to be transferred.’

MacRae got up. ‘Mr Kruger, you are custodian of our welfare. You mean to say you won't stand up for our rights?’

'Well, now, Doctor, I work for the Company. If this is its policy—and I'm not admitting it—you can't expect me to go against it.’

'I work for the Company, too,’ the Doctor growled, ‘but I didn't sell myself to it, body and soul.’ His eyes swept the crowd. ‘How about it, folks? Shall we throw him out on his ear?’

Marlowe had to bang for order. ‘Sit down, Doctor. We haven't time to waste on trivia.’

'Mr Chairman —’

'Yes, Mrs Palmer?’

'What do you think we ought to do?’

'I would rather that suggestions came from the floor.’

'Oh, nonsense—you've known about it longer than we have; you must have an opinion. Speak up.’

Marlowe saw that her wish was popular. ‘Very well, I speak for myself and Mr Sutton. By contract we are entitled to migrate and the Company is obligated to let us. I say go ahead and do so, at once.’

'I so move!’

'I second!’

'Question!’—‘Question!’

'Is there debate?’ asked Marlowe.

'Just a moment, Mr Chairman —’ The speaker was one Humphrey Gibbs, a small precise individual. ‘— we are acting hastily and, if I may say so, not in proper procedure. We have not exhausted our possible reliefs. We should communicate with Mr Beecher. It may be that there are good reasons for this change of policy —’

'How are
you
going to like a hundred below?’

'Mr Chairman, I really must insist on order.’

'Let him have his say,’ Marlowe ordered.

'As I was saying, there may be good reasons, but the Company board back on Earth is perhaps not fully aware of conditions here. If Mr Beecher is unable to grant us relief, then we should communicate with the board, reason with them. But we should not take the law into our own hands. If worst comes to worst, we have a contract; if forced to do so, we can always sue.’ He sat down.

MacRae got up again. ‘Anybody mind if I talk? I don't want to hog the proceedings.’ Silence gave approval; he went on, ‘So this panty-waist wants to sue! With the temperature outside a hundred and thirty below by the time he has exhausted his means—and us!—and with the rime frost a foot deep on the ground he wants it put on some judge's calendar, back on Earth, and hire a lawyer!

'If you want a contract enforced, you have to enforce it yourself. You know what lies behind this; it showed up last season when the Company cut down on the household allowance and started charging excess baggage. I warned you then—but the board was a hundred million miles away and you paid rather than fight. The Company hates the expense of moving us, but more important they are very anxious to move more immigrants in here faster than we can take them; they think they see a cheap way out by keeping both North Colony and South Colony filled up all the time, instead of building more buildings. As Sister Gibbs put it, they don't realize the conditions here and they don't know that we can't do effective work in the winter.

The question is not whether or not we can last out a polar winter; the Eskimo caretakers do that every season. It isn't just a matter of contract; it's a matter of whether we are going to be free men, or are we going to let our decisions be made for us on another planet, by men who have never set foot on Mars!

'Just a minute—let me finish! We are the advance guard. When the atmosphere project is finished, millions of others will follow. Are they going to be ruled by a board of absentee owners on Terra? Is Mars to remain a colony of Earth? Now is the time to settle it!’

There was dead silence, then scattered applause. Marlowe said, ‘Is there more debate?’

Mr Sutton got up. ‘Doc has something there. It was never in my blood to love absentee landlords.’

Kelly called out, ‘Right you are, Pat!’

Jim's father said, ‘I rule that subject out of order. The question before the house is to migrate, at once, and nothing else. Are you ready for the question?’

They were—and it was carried unanimously. If any refrained from voting, at least they did not vote against. That matter settled, by another ballot they set up an emergency committee, the chairman to hold power subject to review by the committee, and the committee's decisions to be subject to review by the colony.

James Marlowe, Senior, was elected chairman. Dr MacRae's name was proposed but he refused to let it be considered. Mr Marlowe got even with him by sticking him on the committee.

South Colony held at the time five hundred and nine persons, from the youngest baby to old Doc MacRae. There were eleven scooters on hand; enough but barely enough to move everyone at one time, provided they were stacked almost like freight and each person was limited to a few pounds only of hand baggage. A routine migration was usually made in three or more sections, with extra scooters provided from Syrtis Minor.

Jim's father decided to move everyone at once and hoped that events would permit sending back for personal possessions. The squawks were many, but he stood by his guns, the committee ratified and no one tried to call a town meeting. He set dawn Monday as the zero hour.

BOOK: Red Planet
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