Red Planet (7 page)

'Sure, sure.
I
know it. But try to tell my old man. All we can tell is little things like that It'll have to get a lot worse before you could get our parents to do anything.’

Frank's views were confirmed as the day wore on. As the news spread student after student dropped in on them, some to pump Jim's hand for having bearded the Headmaster, some merely curious to see the odd character who had had the temerity to buck vested authority. But one two-pronged fact became apparent: no one liked the new school head and all resented some or all of his new ‘disciplinary’ measures, but no one was anxious to join up in what was assumed to be a foregone lost cause.

On Sunday Frank went out into Syrtis Minor—the terrestrial settlement, not the nearby Martian city. Jim, under what amounted to room arrest, stayed in their room, pretended to study and talked to Willis. Frank came back at supper time and announced, ‘I brought you a present.’ He chucked Jim a tiny package.

'You're a pal! What is it?’

'Open it and see.’

It was a new tango recording, made in Rio and direct from Earth via the
Albert Einstein,
titled
¿Quién Es La Señorita?
Jim was inordinately fond of Latin music; Frank had remembered it.

'Oh, boy!’ Jim went to the study desk, threaded the tape into the speaker, and got ready to enjoy it. Frank stopped him.

'There's the supper bell. Better wait.’

Reluctantly Jim complied, but he came back and played it several times during the evening until Frank insisted that they study. He played it once more just before lights-out.

The dormitory corridor had been dark and quiet for perhaps fifteen minutes when
¿Quién Es La Señorita?
started up again. Frank sat up with a start. ‘What the dickens? Jim—don't play that now!’

'I'm not,’ protested Jim. ‘It must be Willis. It has to be Willis.’

'Well, shut him up. Choke him. Put a pillow over his head.’

Jim switched on the light. ‘Willis boy—hey, Willis! Shut up that racket!’ Willis probably did not even hear him. He was standing in the middle of the floor, beating time with his eye stalks, and barrelling on down the groove. His rendition was excellent, complete with marimbas and vocal chorus.

Jim picked him up. ‘Willis! Shut up, fellow.’

Willis kept on beating it out.

The door burst open and framed Headmaster Howe. ‘Just as I thought,’ he said triumphantly, ‘no consideration for other people's rights and comforts. Shut off that speaker. And consider yourself restricted to your room for the next month.’

Willis kept on playing; Jim tried to hide him with his body. ‘Didn't you hear my order?’ demanded Howe. ‘I said to shut off that music.’ He strode over to the study desk and twisted the speaker switch. Since it was already shut off full, all he accomplished was breaking a finger nail. He suppressed an unschoolmasterly expression and stuck the finger in his mouth. Willis worked into the third chorus.

Howe turned around. ‘How do you have this thing wired?’ he snapped. Getting no answer, he stepped up to Jim and said, ‘What are you hiding?’ He shoved Jim aside, looked at Willis with evident disbelief and distaste. ‘What is
that?'

'Uh, that's Willis,’ Jim answered miserably, raising his voice to be heard.

Howe was not entirely stupid; it gradually penetrated that the music he had been hearing came out of the curious-looking, fuzzy sphere in front of him.

'And what is Willis, may I ask?’

'Well, he's a ... a bouncer. A sort of a Martian.’ Willis picked this moment to finish the selection, breathe a liquid contralto
buenas noches,
and shut up—for the moment.

'A bouncer? I've never heard of one.’

'Well, not very many have seen one, even among the colonists. They're scarce.’

'Not scarce enough. Sort of a Martian parrot, I assume.’

'Oh, no!’

'What do you mean, Oh, no?’

'He's not a bit like a parrot. He talks, he thinks—he's my friend!’

Howe was over his surprise and recalling the purpose of his visit. ‘All that is beside the point. You saw my order about pets?’

'Yes, but Willis is not a pet.’

'What is he, then?’

'Well, he
can't
be a pet. Pets are animals; they're property. Willis isn't property; he's—well, he's just Willis.’

Willis picked this time to continue with the next thing he had heard after the last playing of the tango. ‘Boy, when I hear that music,’ he remarked in Jim's voice, ‘I don't even remember that old no-good Howe.’

'I can't forget him,’ Willis went on in Frank's voice. ‘I wish I had had the nerve to tell him off the same time you did, Jim. You know what? I think Howe is nuts, I mean really nuts. I'll bet he was a coward when he was a kid and it's twisted him inside.’

Howe turned white. Frank's arm-chair psychoanalyzing had hit dead centre. He raised his hand as if to strike, then dropped it again, uncertain what to strike. Willis hastily withdrew all protuberances and became a smooth ball.

'I say it's a pet,’ he said savagely, when he regained his voice. He scooped Willis up and headed for the door.

Jim stared after him. ‘Say! Mr Howe—you can't take Willis!’

The Headmaster turned. ‘Oh, I can't, can't I? You get back to bed. See me in my office in the morning.’

'If you hurt Willis, I'll ... I'll —’

'You'll what?’ he paused. ‘Your precious pet won't be hurt. Now you get back in that bed before I thrash you.’ He turned again and left without stopping to see whether or not his order had been carried out.

Jim stood staring at the closed door, tears streaming down his cheeks, sobs of rage and frustration shaking him. Frank came over and put a hand on him. ‘Jim. Jim, don't take on so. You heard him promise not to hurt Willis. Get back into bed and settle it in the morning. At the very worst you'll have to send Willis home.’

Jim shook off the hand.

Frank went on, ‘Don't let him get your goat, fellow; if he gets you angry, you'll do something silly and then he's got you.’

'I'm already angry.’

'I know you are and I don't blame you. But you've got to get over it and use your head. He was laying for you—you saw that. No matter what he does or says you've got to keep cool and outsmart him—or he gets you in wrong.’

'I suppose you're right.’

'I know I'm right. That's what Doc would say. Now come to bed.’

Neither one of them got much sleep that night. Toward morning Jim had a nightmare that Howe was a withdrawn Martian whom he was trying to unroll—against his better judgement.

There was a brand-new notice on the bulletin board at breakfast time. It read:

IMPORTANT NOTICE

Hereafter all personal weapons will be kept in the armoury at all times. The office of student armourer is abolished; weapons will be issued by the Headmaster and only when the student concerned is leaving the limits of the school and the adjoining settlement. The practice of wearing sidearms in areas where there is no actual danger from Martian
fauna
will cease.

(signed) M. Howe, Headmaster

Jim and Frank read it together. ‘I don't get it,’ said Jim. ‘Why should he want to take over such a headache? Especially since most of us are licensed?’ All the students usually kept their guns in the armoury, but the student armourer had kept check only on the weapons of those students still trying to win their licences.

Frank studied it. ‘Do you know what I think?’

'No what?’

'I think he's afraid of you personally.’

'Me? Why?’

'Because of what happened last night. There was murder in your eye and he saw it. I think he wants to pull your teeth. I don't think he gives a hoot about the rest of us hanging on to our guns.’

'You really think so? Hmm ... maybe it's a good thing our guns don't happen to be in the armoury at the moment.’

'The question is: what are you going to do about it?’

Jim thought about it. ‘I'm not going to give up my gun. Dad wouldn't want me to. I'm sure of that. Anyhow, I'm licensed and I don't have to. I'm a qualified marksman, I've passed the psycho tests, and I've taken the oath; I'm as much entitled to wear a gun as he is.’

'Okay, I'm with you on it. But we had better think up a wrinkle before you have to go see him this morning.’

The wrinkle showed up at breakfast—the student named Smythe. Frank spoke to Jim about it in a low voice; together they accosted the student after breakfast and brought him to their room. ‘Look, Smitty,’ began Jim, ‘you're a man with lots of angles, aren't you?’

'Mmm ... could be. What's up?’

'You saw that notice this morning?’

'Sure. Who didn't? Everybody is grousing about it.’

'Are you going to turn in your gun?’

'My gun has been in the armoury all along. What do I need a gun for around here? I've got a brain.’

'In that case you won't be called in about your gun. Now just supposing that you were handed two packages to take care of. You won't open them and you won't know what's in them. Do you think you could find a safe, a
really
safe place to keep them and still be able to give them back on short notice?’

'I don't suppose you want me to tell anybody about these, uh, packages?’

'Nope. Nobody.’

'Hmm ... this sort of service comes high.’

'How high?’

'Well, now, I couldn't afford to do it for less than two credits a week.’

'That's too much,’ Frank put in sharply.

'Well—you're friends of mine. I'll make you a flat rate of eight credits for the rest of the year.’

'Too much.’

'Six credits then, and I won't go lower. You've got to pay for the risk.’

'It's a deal,’ Jim said before Frank could bargain further.

Smythe left with a bundle before Jim reported to the Headmaster's office.

Headmaster Howe kept Jim waiting thirty minutes before admitting him. When he was finally let in, Jim saw that Howe seemed to be quite pleased with himself. He glanced up. ‘Yes? You asked to see me?’

'You told me to see you, sir.’

'I did? Let me see now, what is your name?’

He darn well knows my name,
Jim said savagely to himself;
he's trying to get my goat.
He recalled Frank's solemn warning not to lose his temper. ‘James Marlowe, sir,’ he answered evenly.

'Oh, yes. Now, Marlowe, you wanted to see me about something?’

'You told me to see you. About Willis.’

'Willis? Oh yes, the Martian roundhead.’ Howe smiled with his lips. ‘An interesting scientific specimen.’

Howe added nothing more. The silence kept up so long that Jim began to realize that the Headmaster intended to force him to make any moves. Jim had already resigned himself to the idea that it would be impossible to keep Willis at the school any longer. He said, ‘I've come to get him. I'm going to take him out in town and arrange to send him home.’

Howe smiled more broadly. ‘Oh, you are? And pray tell me how you are going to do that when you are restricted to the school for the next thirty days?’

Frank was still warning him; Jim could almost hear him. He answered, ‘All right, sir, I'll get somebody to do it for me—today. Now, please, can I have Willis?’

Howe leaned back and crossed his fingers over his stomach. ‘You bring up a most interesting point, Marlowe. You said last night that this creature is not a pet.’

Jim was puzzled. ‘Yes?’

'You were quite emphatic about it. You said that he wasn't your property, but your friend. That's right, isn't it?’

Jim hesitated. He could feel that a trap was being built for him, but he was not sure what sort. ‘What if I did?’

'Did you say that, or didn't you? Answer me!’

'Well—yes.’

Howe leaned forward. ‘In that case, what are you doing in here demanding that I turn this creature over to you? You have no claim on him.’

'But—but —’ Jim stopped, at a loss for words. He had been tricked with words, slippery words; he did not know how to answer them. ‘You can't do that!’ he blurted out. ‘You don't own him, either! You have no right to keep him locked up.’

Howe carefully fitted his finger tips together. ‘That is a matter still to be determined. Although you have waived all claim to him, it may be that the creature is property nevertheless—in which case he was found on the school grounds and I may take title to him on behalf of the school, as a scientific specimen.’

'But—You can't do that; that's not fair! If he belongs to anybody, he belongs to me! You've got no right to —’

'Silence!’ Jim shut up; Howe went on more quietly, ‘Don't tell me what I can or cannot do. You forget that I am in
loco parentis
to you. Any rights that you may have are vested in me, just as if I were your own father. As to the disposition of this creature, I am looking into it; I expect to see the Agent General this afternoon. In due course you will be informed of the outcome.’

The Latin phrase confused Jim, as it was intended to; but he did catch one point in Howe's statement and snatched at it ‘I'm going to tell my father about this. You can't get away with it.’

'Threats, eh?’ Howe smiled sourly. ‘Don't bother to ask for the key to the communications booth; I don't propose to have students phoning their parents every time I tell them to wipe their noses. Send your father a letter—but let me hear it before you send it.’ He stood up. ‘That is all. You may go.’

Frank was waiting. ‘I don't see any blood,’ he announced, looking Jim over. ‘How did it go?’

'Oh, that so-and-so!’

'Bad, eh?’

'Frank, he won't let me have Willis.’

'He's going to make you send him home? But you expected that.’

'No, not that. He won't let me have him at all. He used a lot of double-talk but all it meant was that he had him and meant to keep him.’ Jim seemed about to break down and blubber. ‘Poor little Willis—you know how timid he is. Frank, what'll I do?’

'I don't get it,’ Frank answered slowly. ‘He can't keep Willis, not for keeps. Willis belongs to you.’

'I told you he used a lot of double-talk—but that's what he means to do just the same. How am I going to get him back? Frank, I've just got to get him back.’