Red Planet

CHAPTER TEN

"We're Boxed In!'

FOUR OF THE scooters were older types and slower, less than two hundred miles per hour top speed. They were placed in the van as pacesetters. Around midnight one of them developed engine trouble; the column had to slow down. About 3 a.m. it quit completely; it was necessary to stop and distribute its passengers among the other scooters-a cold and risky business.

MacRae and Marlowe climbed back into the headquarters car, last in the column. The doctor glanced at his watch. "Planning to stop in Hesperidum now. Skipper?" he asked as the scooter started up. They had passed Cynia station without stopping; Hesperidum lay a short distance ahead, with Syrtis Minor some seven hundred miles beyond it.

Marlowe frowned. "I don't want to. If we lay over at Hesperidum, that means waiting until sundown for ice and a full day's loss of time. With Kruger ahead of us that gives Beecher a whole day in which to figure out a way to stop us. If I were sure the ice would hold after sunrise long enough for us to get there-" He stopped and chewed his lip.

Back at South Colony it was early winter and the canal ice would remain hard until spring, but here they were already close to the equator; the canals froze every night and thawed every day under the extreme daily changes in temperature permitted by Mars' thin blanket of air. North of the equator, where they were headed, the spring floods from the melting northern polar cap had already started; ice formed in the flooding canal currents at night, but it was floe ice, riding with the current, and night clouds helped to save the daytime heat.

"Suppose you do go on through, what's your plan, Skipper?" MacRae persisted.

"Go straight to the boat basin, ramp the scooters, and load whatever boats are there. As soon as the ice is rotten enough for the boats to break through it, start them north. I'd like to have a hundred and fifty or so of us out of Syrtis Minor and headed north before Beecher recovers from his surprise. I haven't any real plan except to keep forcing events so that he doesn't have time to plan, either. I want to hand him a set of accomplished facts."

MacRae nodded. "Audacity, that's the ticket. Go ahead with it."

"I want to, but I'm afraid of the ice. If a scooter breaks through there'll be people killed-and my fault."

"Your drivers are smart enough to spread out in echelon once the Sun is up. Jamie, I found out a long time ago that you have to take some chances in this life. Otherwise you are just a vegetable, headed for the soup pot." He paused and peered out past the driver. "I see a light ahead that ought to be Hesperidum. Make up your mind, Jamie."

Marlowe did not answer. After a time the light was behind them.

When the Sun came up Marlowe had his driver cut out of column and take the lead. It was near nine when they passed Syrtis Minor scooter station, without stopping. They ploughed on past the space port and turned right into the boat basin that marked the terminus of the main canal from the north. Marlowe's driver drove onto the ramp while he was still lowering his crawling gear, with no respect for his runners. The lead car crawled far along the ramp and parked; the others closed in behind it.

Out of the headquarters car climbed Marlowe, Kelly, and MacRae, followed by Jim, carrying Willis. Other scooter doors opened and people started getting out. "Tell them to get back into their cars, Kelly," Mr. Marlowe snapped. Hearing this, Jim placed himself behind his father and tried to avoid attracting attention.

Marlowe stared angrily at the basin. There was not a boat in it. Across the basin one small launch was drawn up on skids, its engine dismounted. Finally Marlowe turned to MacRae. "Well, Doc, I'm up a tree; how do I get down?"

"You are no worse off than if you had stopped at Hesperidum."

"And no better."

A man came out of one of the row of warehouses ringing the basin and approached them. "What's all this?" he inquired, staring at the parked scooters. "A circus?"

"It's the seasonal migration."

"Wondered when you folks were coming through. Hadn't heard anyting about it."

"Where are all the boats?"

"Still spread out here and there, at the Project camps mostly, I suppose. Not my responsibility. Better call the traffic office."

Marlowe frowned again. "At least you can tell me where the temporary quarters are." To take care of the relays of colonists a warehouse was always set aside at each migration and fitted up as a barracks; the one Company hostelry. Hotel Marsopolis, had only twenty beds.

The man looked puzzled. "Now that you mention it, I don't know of any such preparations being made. Looks like the schedule was kind of fouled up, doesn't it?"

Marlowe swore, realizing his question had been foolish. Beecher, of course, had made no preparations for a migration he did not intend to permit. "Is there a phone around here?"

"Inside, in my office-I'm the warehouse storekeeper. Help yourself."

"Thanks," said Marlowe and started off. MacRae followed him.

"What's your plan, son?"

"I'm going to call Beecher."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Confound it, I've got to get those people out of those cars. There are young babies in there-and women."

"They're safe."

"Look, Doc, Beecher has got to do something about it, now that we're here."

MacRae shrugged. "You're the cook."

Marlowe argued bis way past several secretaries and finally got Beecher on the screen. The Agent General looked out at him without recognition. "Yes? Speak up, my good man, what is this urgent business?"

"My name is Marlowe. I'm executive chairman of the colonists from South Colony. I want to know-"

"Oh, yes! The famous Mr. Marlowe. We saw your tattered army coming through." Beecher turned away and said something in an aside. Kruger's voice answered him.

"Well, now that we are here, what are you going to do about us?"

"Do? Isn't that obvious? As soon as the ice forms tonight you can all turn around and go back where you came from. All except you-you stay here for trial. And your son, if I recall correctly."

Marlowe held his temper. "That isn't what I mean. I want living space, with cooking and toilet accommodations, for five hundred people."

Beecber waved the problem away. "Let them stay where they are. A day won't hurt them. Teach them a lesson."

Marlowe started to answer, thought better of it and switched off. "You were right. Doc. There was no point in talking with him."

"Well-no harm done, either."

They went outside, there to find that Kelly had strung a line of his deputies around the scooters. "After you went inside, Boss, I got uneasy, so I stationed some of the boys around."

"You're a better general than I am," Marlowe told him.

"Any trouble?"

"One of Beecher's cops showed up, but he went away

again."

"Why didn't you grab him?" asked MacRae.

"Well, I wanted to," Kelly answered, "but he kept going when I yelled at him. I couldn't stop him without shooting, so I let him go."

"Should have winged him," said MacRae.

"Should I have?" Kelly said to Marlowe. "I was tempted to, but I didn't know where we stood. Is this a shooting war, or is it just a row with the Company?"

"You did right," Marlowe assured him. "There will be no shooting unless Beecher starts it." MacRae snorted. Marlowe turned to him. "You disagree?"

"Jamie, you put me in mind of a case I ran into in the American West. A respected citizen shot a professional gunthrower in the back. When asked why he didn't give the other chap a chance to draw, the survivor said, 'Well, he's dead and I'm alive and that's how I wanted it to be.' Jamie, if you use sportsmanship on a known scamp, you put yourself at a terrible disadvantage."

"Doctor, this is no time to swap stories. I've got to get these people safely housed and at once."

"That's my point," persisted MacRae. "Finding housing isn't the first thing to do."

"What is is, then?"

"Set up a task force of your best shots and send them over to grab Beecher and the Company offices. I volunteer to lead it."

Marlowe gestured angrily. "Out of the question. At present we are a group of citizens going about our lawful occasions. One move like that and we're outlaws."

MacRae shook his head. "You don't see the logic of the actions you've already taken. You know that water runs downhill, but you think-praise God!-it'll never reach the bottom. In Beecher's books you are an outlaw now. All of us."

"Nonsense, we're just enforcing our contract. If Beecher behaves, we'll behave."

"I'm telling you, son-the way to grasp a nettle is firmly."

"Doctor MacRae, if you are so sure how this matter should be conducted, why did you refuse to accept leadership?"

MacRae turned red. "I beg your pardon, sir. What are your orders?"

"You know Syrtis better than I do. Where is a building we can commandeer as a barracks?"

Jim decided that this was a good time to come out of hiding. "Dad," he said, coming around in front of him, "I know where we are and the school is-"

"Jim, I've no time to chat. Get in me car."

"But, Dad, it's only about ten minutes' walk!"

"I think he's got something," put in the doctor. "The school will have real beds for the kids, and a kitchen."

"Hmmm... very well. Possibly we should use both schools and put the women and small children in the girls' school."

"Jamie," advised the doctor, "at the risk of getting my ears batted down again, I say 'no.' Don't divide your forces."

"I didn't really want to. Kelly!"

"Yes, sir."

"Get them all out and put a deputy in charge of each car party to keep them together. Ws're moving out."

"Right."

There is very little foot traffic in the streets of the Earth settlement at Syrtis Minor; pedestrians prefer to go by tunnel. The few they did meet seemed startled but no one bothered diem.

The pressure lock at the school's front door could hold about twenty people at a time. As the outer door opened after the second load, Howe stepped out. Even with his mask on it could be seen that he was angry. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Willis took one look at him and closed up. Jim got behind his father. Marlowe stepped forward. "We're sorry but we've got to use the school as an emergency shelter."

"You can't do that. Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Marlowe. I'm in charge of the migration."

"But-" Howe turned suddenly, pushed his way through the crowd and went inside.

Nearly thirty minutes later Marlowe, MacRae, and Kelly went inside with the last party. Marlowe directed Kelly to station guards on the inside at each door, MacRae considered suggesting a string of armed guards around the outside of the building, but he held his tongue.

Mr. Sutton was waiting for Marlowe in the entrance hall. "A news flash from Mrs. Palmer, Chief-she says to tell you that chow will be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Good! I could use a bite myself."

"And the school's regular cook is sulking in the dining room. She wants to talk to you."

"You deal with her. Where is Howe?"

"Derned if I know. He went through here like a destroying angel."

A man pressed forward through the crowd-the entrance hall was jammed, not only with colonists but with students, each of whom wanted to see the excitement. Reunions were going on all around, between parents and sons. Kelly was pounding a slightly smaller replica of himself on the back, and was himself being pounded. The babble was deafening. The man who had forced his way forward put his mouth to Marlowe's ear and said, "Mr. Howe is in his office. He's locked himself in; I've just come from trying to see him."

"Let him stay," decided Marlowe. "Who are you?"

"Jan van der Linden, instructor here in natural sciences.

Who, may I ask, are you?"

"Name's Marlowe. I'm supposed to be in charge of this mad house. Look here, could you round up the boys who live outside the school? We are going to have to stay here for a day or two at least. I'm sorry but it's necessary. There can't very well be any classes; you might as well send the town boys home-and the teachers, too."

The teacher looked doubtful. "Mr. Howe won't like me doing it without his say-so."

"It's necessary. I'm going to do it in any case but you can speed things up and help me put an end to this riot. I take full responsibility."

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, almost sick. 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: it was, as he had guessed, still unoccupied. His mother sank down on his bunk. "Jimmy, you're an angel."

"You just take it easy. Phyl can bring you something to eat when it's ready. Uh, there's a toilet right across the hall. 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 his mother's message, then found himself rather late in the chow line. By the time he had gone through for seconds as well, and eaten same, he discovered that most of the colonists were gathered in the school auditorium. He went in, spotted Frank and Doctor MacRae standing against the rear wall 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 aggresssive 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 to a hundred and fifty guns. Right? We've got twice that many or more right here. 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... neighbors... 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 must say, 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 that."

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 some 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. "Personally, I feel the same way, but I won't oppose it if that's what the crowd wants. But," he continued, addressing the audience, "is Howe still here? I haven't seen him."

Kelly stood up. "Oh, he's here all right; he's still holed up in his office. I've talked to him twice through his ventilator, I've promised him a honey of a beating if he will only do me the favor of coming out and standing 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 really 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 just got an idea. I was wondering, since we haven't got any boats, just 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?" and unresponsive replies. Although almost all of the colonists had heard some version of the two boys' story, it was the simple fact mat it had not been believed, as told, 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. The necessary alternative, that the boys had crossed eight hundred and fifty miles of open country without special shelter equipment, simply had not been examined by them; the "common sense" mind does not stoop to logic.

Mr. Marlowe frowned. "You've brought up an entirely new possibility, Jim." He thought a moment. "We don't know that Hie 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 mem 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 adult citizens?"

Mr. Marlowe looked embarrassed and annoyed. 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 guntoting men their age ain't citizens? I might mention in passing that I was a man grown when this Gibbs party was still wetting his diapers-"

"Order!" ,

"Sorry. I mean even before he had reached that stage. Now as I see it, 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 an adult, too. Whether you folks know it yet or not, you are headed into a period when you'll have to fight for your rights. The youngsters will do most of the fighting; it behooves you to treat them accordingly. Twenty-five may be the right age for citizenship in a moribund, age-ridden society like that 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 after the meeting. Has anyone any specific action to propose that can be carried out at this time? Do we negotiate, or do we resort to force of numbers?"

Mr. Konski addressed the chair and said, "I favor 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 to him that we have force enough to do as we see fit; perhaps he will see reason. In fact, I so move."

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

Beecher seemed excessively pleased with himself. "Ah, yes-my good friend, Marlowe. You've called to give yourself up I assume?"

Marlowe glanced around at the half dozen colonists crowded into the open door of the booth, then 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. You may tell them that all who are ready to go at that time will escape the consequences of their hasty actions. Not you, of course."

"The purpose of this call was to point out to you that we are considerably larger in numbers than the largest force you can possibly drum up here in Syrtis Minor. We intend to cany out the contract. If you crowd us into using force to get our rights, force we will use."

Beecher sneered through the TV screen. "Your 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 out of the building," 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 conscientiously hold a hostage-but I have a feeling that this building is safer with Howe in it. I don't know just what Beecher has-so far as I know there isn't a bomb nor any other heavy weapon of any sort in Syrtis-but I would like to know what makes him so confident."

"He's bluffing."

"I wonder." Marlowe went back in 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 her.

Marlowe said, "Any more who want to surrender?"

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

"Second!"-"Second the motion!"

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

At this point Gibbs came stumbling back into the room, 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. Both of them. I was almost killed myself." He quieted down enough to tell his story; the three had assumed their masks and gone out through the lock. Mrs. Pottle, without bothering to look around her, 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 out 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. We can't get out."