Red Planet (20 page)

Jim saw his mother through the crowd and did not wait to hear the outcome. She was leaning against the wall, holding Oliver and looking very tired. Phyllis was standing close to her. Jim wormed his way through the crowd. ‘Mother!’

She looked up. ‘What is it Jimmy?’

'You come with me.’

'Oh, Jimmy—I'm too tired to move.’

'Come on! I know a place where you can lie down.’ A few minutes later he had the three in the room abandoned by Frank and himself. His mother sank down on his bunk. ‘Jimmy, you're an angel.’

'You take it easy. Phyl can bring you something to eat. I'm going back and see what's going on.’ He started to leave, then hesitated. ‘Phyl—would you take care of Willis for me?’

'Why? I want to see what's doing, too.’

'You're a girl; you'd better stay out from under foot.’

'Well, I like that! I guess I've got just as much business —’

'Stop it, children. Jimmy, we'll take care of Willis. Tell your father where we are.’

Jim delivered the message, then found himself late in the chow line. By the time he had gone through for seconds, and eaten same, he discovered that most of the colonists were gathered in the school auditorium. He went in, spotted Frank and Doctor MacRae and squeezed over to them.

His father was pounding for order, using the butt of his gun as a gavel. ‘Mr Linthicum has the floor.’

The speaker was a man about thirty with an annoyingly aggressive manner. ‘I say Doctor MacRae is right; we shouldn't fool around. We've got to have boats to get to Copais. Right? Beecher won't give ‘em to us. Right? But all the actual force Beecher has is a squad of cops. Right? Even if he deputizes every man in Syrtis he only has maybe a hundred and fifty guns. Right? We've got twice that many. Besides which Beecher won't be able to get all the local employees to fight us. So what do we do? We go over and grab him by the neck and force him to do right by us. Right?’ He sat down triumphantly.

MacRae muttered, ‘Heaven defend me from my friends.’

Several tried to speak; Marlowe picked one out. ‘Mr Gibbs has the floor.’

'Mr Chairman ... neighbours ... I have rarely heard a more rash and provocative speech. You persuaded us, Mr Marlowe, to embark on this reckless adventure, a project of which I never approved —’

'You came along!’ someone shouted.

'Order!’ called Marlowe. ‘Get to the point, Mr Gibbs.’

'— but in which I acceded rather than oppose the will of the majority. Now the hasty and ill-tempered would make matters worse with outright violence. But now that we are here, at the seat of government, the obvious thing to do is to petition for redress of grievances.’

'If you mean by that to ask Beecher for transportation to Copais, Mr Gibbs, I've already done so.’

Gibbs smiled thinly. ‘Forgive me, Mr Marlowe, if I say that the personality of the petitioner sometimes affects the outcome of the petition? I understand we have here, Mr Howe, the Headmaster of this school and a person of influence with the Resident Agent General. Would it not be wise to seek his help in approaching the Resident?’

Mr Sutton shouted, ‘He's the last man on Mars I'd let speak for me!’

'Address the chair, Pat,’ Marlowe cautioned. ‘I feel the same way, but I won't oppose it if that's what the crowd wants. But,’ he continued, to the audience, ‘is Howe still here? I haven't seen him.’

Kelly stood up. ‘Oh, he's here; he's holed up in his office. I've talked to him through the ventilator, I've promised him a honey of a beating if he will only come out and stand up to me like a man.’

Mr Gibbs looked scandalized. ‘Well, really!’

'It's a personal matter involving my boy,’ explained Kelly.

Marlowe banged the table. ‘I imagine Mr Kelly will waive his privilege if you folks want Howe to speak for you. Do I hear a motion?’ Gibbs proposed it; in the end only he and the Pottles voted for it.

After the vote Jim said, ‘Dad?’

'Address the chair, son. What is it?’

'Er, Mr Chairman—I got an idea. I was wondering, since we haven't got any boats, maybe we could get to Copais the way Frank and I got back to Charax—that is, if the Martians would help us.’ He added, ‘If folks wanted us to, I guess Frank and I could go back and find Gekko and see what could be done about it.’

There was a moment of silence, then murmurs of ‘What's he talking about?’ Although almost all of the colonists had heard the two boys’ story, it was the simple fact that it had not been believed, or had been ignored or discounted. The report ran counter to experience and most of the colonists were as bogged down in ‘common sense’ as their relatives back on Earth.

Mr Marlowe frowned. ‘We don't know that the natives have these conveyances between here and Copais —’

'I'll bet they have!’

’—and we don't know that they would let us ride in them even if they have.’

'But, Dad, Frank and I —’

'A point of order, Mr Chairman!’ It was Gibbs again. ‘Under what rules do you permit children to speak in the councils of adults?’

Mr Marlowe looked embarrassed; Doctor MacRae spoke up. ‘Another point of order, Mr Chairman. Since when does this cream puff —’ He motioned at Gibbs.

'Order, Doctor.’

'Correction. I mean this fine upstanding male citizen, Mr Gibbs, get the notion that Frank and Jim and the other gun-toting men their age ain't citizens? I might add that I was a man grown when this Gibbs party was still drooling on his bib —’

'Order!’

'Sorry. I mean even before he had reached that stage. Now this is a frontier society and any man old enough to fight is a man and must be treated as such—and any girl old enough to cook and tend babies is adult, too. Whether you folks know it or not, you are headed into a period when you'll have to fight for your rights. The youngsters will do the fighting; it behooves you to treat them accordingly. Twenty-five may be the right age for citizenship in a moribund, age-ridden society back on Earth, but we aren't bound to follow customs that aren't appropriate to our needs here.’

Mr Marlowe banged his gun. ‘I declare this subject out of order. Jim, see me later. Has anyone any action to propose that can be carried out at this time? Do we negotiate, or do we resort to force?’

Mr Konski said, ‘I favour taking what we have to have, if necessary, but it may not be necessary. Wouldn't it be well for you, Mr Marlowe, to phone Mr Beecher again? You could point out that we have force enough to do as we see fit; perhaps he will see reason. I so move.’

The motion was carried; Mr Marlowe suggested that some one else speak for them, but was turned down. He left the rostrum and went out to the communications booth. It was necessary to break the lock Howe had placed on it.

Beecher seemed pleased with himself. ‘Ah, yes—my good friend, Marlowe. You've called to give yourself up?’

Marlowe explained civilly to Beecher the purpose of his call.

'Boats to Copais?’ Beecher laughed. ‘Scooters will be ready at nightfall to take the colonists back to South Colony. All who are ready to go at that time will escape the consequences of their hasty actions. Not you, of course.’

'Let me point out to you that we are considerably larger in numbers than the largest force you can drum up here in Syrtis Minor. We intend to carry out the contract. If you crowd us into using force to get our rights, force we will use.’

Beecher sneered through the TV screen. ‘Threats do not move me, Marlowe. Surrender. Come out one at a time and unarmed, hands up.’

'Is that your last word?’

'One more thing. You are holding Mr Howe a prisoner. Let him go at once, or I shall see to it that you are prosecuted for kidnapping.’

'Howe? He's not a prisoner; he's free to leave at any time.’

Beecher elaborated. Marlowe answered, ‘That's a private matter between Kelly and Howe. You can call Howe in his office and tell him so.’

'You must give him safe conduct,’ Beecher insisted.

Marlowe shook his head. ‘I'm not going to interfere in a private quarrel. Howe is safe where he is; why should I bother? Beecher, I am offering you one more chance to provide boats peacefully.’

Beecher stared at him and switched off.

Kelly said, ‘Maybe you should have thrown me to the wolves, Chief.’

Marlowe scratched his chin. ‘I don't think so. I can't hold a hostage—but this building is safer with Howe in it. So far as I know there isn't a bomb nor any other heavy weapon in Syrtis—but I would like to know what makes Beecher so confident.’

'He's bluffing.’

'I wonder.’ Marlowe went back and reported the conversation to all the colonists.

Mrs Pottle stood up. ‘Well,
we
are accepting Mr Beecher's gracious offer at once! As for holding poor Mr Howe a prisoner—why, the very idea! I hope that you are properly punished, and that ungentlemanly Mr Kelly as well. Come, dear!’ Again she made a grand exit, with Mr Pottle trotting after.

Marlowe said, ‘Any more who want to surrender?’

Gibbs looked around uncertainly and followed them. No one spoke until he had left, then Toland said, ‘I move that we organize for action.’

'Second!’—‘Second the motion!’

No one wanted to debate it; it was carried. Toland then proposed that Marlowe be elected captain, with power to appoint officers. It, too, was carried.

At this point Gibbs came stumbling back, his face white, his hands trembling. ‘They're dead! They're dead!’ he cried.

Marlowe found it impossible to restore order. Instead he crowded into the circle around Gibbs and demanded, ‘Who's dead? What happened?’

'The Pottles. I was almost killed myself.’ He quieted down enough to tell his story; the three had assumed their masks and got out through the lock. Mrs Pottle, without bothering to look around, had stomped out into the street, her husband a close shadow. As soon as they had stepped clear of the archway they had both been blasted. Their bodies lay in the street in front of the school. ‘It's your fault,’ Gibbs finished shrilly, looking at Marlowe. ‘You got us into this.’

'Just a moment,’ said Marlowe, ‘did they do the things Beecher demanded? Hands up, one at a time, and so forth? Was Pottle wearing his gun?’

Gibbs shook his head and turned away. ‘That's not the point,’ MacRae said bitterly. ‘While we've been debating, Beecher has boxed us in.’

It was maddeningly true, as investigation soon proved. The front and back exits were covered by gunmen—Beecher's police, supposedly—who were able to blast anyone emerging from the building without themselves being under fire. The air-lock nature of the doors made a rush suicidal.

The school was at a distance from the settlement's dwellings; it was not connected by tunnel. Nor had it any windows. The colony listed hundreds of licensed gun wearers—and yet a handful of gun fighters outside could keep them holed up.

Under the influence of Doc MacRae's bellowing voice the assembly got back to work. ‘Before I go ahead,’ Marlowe announced, ‘does anyone else want to surrender? I'm fairly sure that the Pottles were shot because they blundered out without notice. If you shout and wave something white, I think your surrender will be accepted.’

He waited. Presently a man got up with his wife, and then another. A few more trickled out. They left in dead silence.

When they were gone Captain Marlowe went on with organizing. Mrs Palmer he confirmed as head of commissary, Doc he designated as executive officer, Kelly he appointed officer of the watch, responsible for interior guard. Sutton and Toland were given the job of devising some sort of portable screen to block the enfilading fire that had dropped Mr and Mrs Pottle. Jim followed all this with excited interest until, after the appointment of platoon leaders, it became evident that his father did not intend to use boys as combatants. The students from the school were organized into two platoons, designated as reserve, and dismissed.

Jim hung around, trying to get a word with his father. At last he managed to catch his eye. ‘Dad —’

'Don't bother us now, Jim.’

'But, Dad, you
told
me to see you about getting the Martians to help us get to Copais.’

'The Martians? Oh —’ Mr Marlowe thought about it, then said, ‘Forget it, Jim. Until we can break out of here, neither that scheme, nor any other, will work. Go see how your mother is doing.’

Thus brushed off, Jim turned disconsolately away. As he was leaving Frank fell in step with him. ‘Do you know, Jim, sometimes you aren't as full of guff as you are other times.’

Jim eyed him suspiciously. ‘If that's a compliment—thanks.’

'Not a compliment, Jim, merely justice. Seldom as I approve of your weary notions, this time I admit that you had a bright idea.’

'Quit making a speech and get to the point.’

'Very well. Point: when you suggested getting the Martians to help us you were firing on all jets.’

'Huh? Well, thanks, but I don't see it myself. As Dad pointed out, there's nothing we can do about it until we find some way to break out of here. Then I suppose we won't need their help.’

'You're supposing too fast. Let's, as Doc would say, analyse the situation. In the first place, your father got us boxed in here —’

'You lay off my father!’

'I wasn't picking on your father. Your father is a swell guy. But by behaving like a gentleman he got us cornered and we can't get out. I'm not blaming him, but that's the situation. So what are they going to do about it? Your old man tells my old man and that drip Toland to work out a shield, some sort of armour, that will let us get out the door and into the open where we can fight. Do you think they'll have any luck?’

'Well, I hadn't thought about it.’

'I have. They are going to get exactly no place. Dad is a good engineer. You give him equipment and materials and he'll build you anything. But what's he got to work with? He's got the school workshop and you know what a sad mess that is. The Company never spent any money on equipping it; it's about right for making bookends. Materials? What are they going to make a shield out of? Dining room table tops? A heater would cut through a table top like soft cheese.’

'Oh, there must be something around they can use.’