Red Planet (8 page)

Frank did not answer; Jim looked around disconsolately and noticed the room for the first time. ‘What happened here?’ he asked. ‘The place looks like you had tried to wreck it.’

'Oh, that. I started to tell you. While you were gone, a couple of Howie's stooges searched the place.’

'Huh?’

'Trying to find our guns. I just played dumb.’

'They did, did they?’ Jim appeared to make up his mind. ‘I've got to find Smythe.’ He headed for the door.

'Hey wait—what d'you want to find Smitty for?’

Jim looked back and his face was very old. ‘I'm going to get my gun and go back there and get Willis.’

'Jim! You're nuts!’

Jim did not answer but continued toward the door.

Frank stuck out a foot, tripped him and landed on his back as he went down. He grabbed Jim's right arm and twisted it behind his back. ‘Now you just rest there,’ he told Jim, ‘until you quiet down.’

'Let me up.’

'You got some sense in your head?’

No answer. ‘Okay,’ Frank went on, ‘I can sit here just as long as you want to. Let me know when you've quieted down.’ Jim started to struggle; Frank twisted his arm until he yelped and relaxed.

'That's better,’ said Frank. ‘Now listen to me: you're a nice guy, Jim, but you go off half cocked. Suppose you do get your gun and suppose you manage to scare old Howie into coughing up Willis. How long are you going to keep him? You know how long? Just long enough for him to call in some Company police. Then they lock you up and take Willis away from you again. And you'll never see Willis again, not to mention the trouble and grief you'll cause your folks.’

There followed a considerable silence. Finally Jim said, ‘Okay, let me up.’

'You've given up the idea of waving your gun around?’

'Sure.’

'On your honor? Licensed gun-wearer's oath and all that sort of thing?’

'Yes, I promise.’

Frank let him up and brushed him off. Jim rubbed his arm and said, ‘You needn't have twisted it so hard.’

'You're a fine one to complain; you ought to thank me. Now grab your notebook; we're going to be late to chemistry lab.’

'I'm not going.’

'Don't be silly, Jim. No use to pile up a bunch of cuts and maybe flunk just because you're sore at the Head.’

'That's not the idea. I'm quitting, Frank. I won't stay in this school.’

'What? Don't be hasty, Jim. I know how you feel, but it's here or nowhere. Your folks can't afford to send you back to Earth for school.’

'Then it's nowhere. I won't stay here. I'm going to hang around just long enough to find some way to get my hands on Willis, then I'm going home.’

'Well ...’ Frank stopped to scratch his head. ‘It's your problem. But see here—you might as well come on to chem lab. It won't hurt you any and you don't intend to leave this minute anyhow.’

'No.’

Frank looked worried. ‘Will you promise me to stay right here and not do anything rash till I get back?’

'Why should you worry?’

'Promise me, Jim, or I cut lab, too.’

'Oh, all right, all right! Go ahead.’

'Right!’ Frank dashed away.

When Frank got back he found Jim sprawled on his bunk. ‘Asleep?’

'No.’

'Figured out what you are going to do?’

'No.’

'Anything you want?’

'No.’

'Your conversation is brilliant,’ Frank commented and sat down at the study desk.

'Sorry.’ Nothing was heard from Howe the rest of that day. Frank managed to persuade Jim to attend classes the next day by pointing out that he did not want to invite attention to himself while he was waiting for an opportunity to grab Willis.

Tuesday also passed without word from Howe. Tuesday night, perhaps two hours after lights-out, Frank suddenly woke up. Someone was stirring in the room. ‘Jim!’ he called out softly.

Dead silence. Keeping quiet himself Frank reached out and switched on the light. Jim was standing near the door. ‘Jim,’ complained Frank, ‘why didn't you answer me? You trying to scare me to death?’

'Sorry.’

'What's up? What are you doing out of bed?’

'Never mind. You go on back to sleep.’

Frank climbed out of bed. ‘Oh, no! Not while you've got that wild look in your eye. Now tell papa.’

Jim waved him away. ‘I don't want to mix you up in this. Go on back to bed.’

'Think you're big enough to make me? Now cut out the foolishness and give. What are your plans?’

Reluctantly Jim explained. It seemed likely to him that Headmaster Howe had Willis locked up somewhere in his office. Jim planned to break in and attempt a rescue. ‘Now you go back to bed,’ he finished. ‘If they question you, you don't know anything; you slept all night.’

'Let you tackle it alone? Not likely! Anyhow you need somebody to jigger for you.’ Frank started fumbling around in their locker.

'I don't want any help. What are you looking for?’

'Laboratory gloves,’ answered Frank. ‘You're going to get help whether you want it or not, you thumb-fingered idiot. I don't want you caught.’

'What do you want gloves for?’

'Ever hear of fingerprints?’

'Sure, but he'll know who did it—and I don't care; I'll be gone.’

'Sure, he'll know, but he may not be able to prove it. Here, put these on.’ Jim accepted the gloves and with them he tacitly accepted Frank's help in the adventure.

Burglary is not common on Mars and locks are unusual items. As for night watchmen, manpower is not transported through millions of miles of space simply to be used to watch the silent corridors of a boys’ school. The principal hazard that Jim and Frank faced in getting to the school's offices was the chance of running into some restless student going to the washroom after hours.

They moved as silently as possibly and scouted each stretch of corridor before entering it. In a few minutes they were at the outer door of the offices without—they hoped—having been seen. Jim tried the door; it was locked. ‘Why do they bother to lock this?’ he whispered.

'On account of guys like you and me,’ Frank told him. ‘Go back to the corner and keep your eye peeled.’ He attacked the latch with his knife.

'Okay.’ Jim went to the passageway intersection and kept lookout. Five minutes later Frank hissed at him; he went back. ‘What's the matter?’

'Nothing's the matter. Come on.’ Frank had the outer door open.

They tiptoed through the outer office, past recording desks and high stacked spool files to an inner door marked: Marquis Howe—HEADMASTER—
Private.

The lettering on the door was new—and so was the lock. The lock was no mere gesture, capable of being picked or sprung with a knife; it was a combination type, of titanium steel, and would have looked more at home on a safe.

'Think you can open it?’ Jim asked anxiously.

Frank whistled softly. ‘Don't be silly. The party is over, Jim. Let's see if we can get back to bed without getting caught.’

'Maybe we can get the door off its hinges.’

'It swings the wrong way. I'd rather try to cut a hole through the partition.’ He moved aside, knelt down, and tried the point of his knife on the wall.

Jim looked things over. There was an air-conditioning duct running from the corridor through the room they were in and to the wall of the headmaster's office. The hole for the duct was almost as wide as his shoulders; if he could unscrew the holding flanges and let the duct sag out of the way—

No, he could not even get up to it; there was nothing to use as a ladder. The file cabinets were fastened to the floor, he found.

There was a small grille set in the bottom of the door, to permit the exhaust air to escape from the inner office. It could not be removed, nor would the hole left be large enough to be of use, but he lay down and tried to peer through it. He could see nothing; the room beyond was dark.

He cupped his hands over it and called out, ‘Willis! Oh, Willis! Willis boy —’

Frank came over and said urgently, ‘Cut that out. Are you trying to get us caught?’

'Sh!’ Jim put his ear to the grille.

They both heard a muffled reply: ‘Jim boy! Jim!’

Jim replied, ‘Willis! Come here, Willis!’ and listened. ‘He's in there,’ he said to Frank. ‘Shut up in something.’

'Obviously,’ agreed Frank. ‘Now will you quiet down before somebody comes?’

'We've got to get him out. How are you making out with the wall?’

'No good. There's heavy wire mesh set in the plastic.’

'Well, we've got to get him out. What do we do?’

'We don't do a darn thing,’ asserted Frank. ‘We're stymied. We go back to bed.’

'You can go back to bed if you want to. I'm going to stay here and get him out.’

'The trouble with you, Jim, is that you don't know when you are licked. Come on!’

'No. Sh!’ He added, ‘Hear anything?’

Frank listened. ‘I hear something. What is it?’

It was a scraping noise from inside the inner office. ‘It's Willis, trying to get out,’ Jim stated.

'Well, he can't. Let's go.’

'No.’ Jim continued to listen at the grille. Frank waited impatiently, his spirit of adventure by now more than satisfied. He was stretched between a reluctance to run out on Jim and an anxiety to get back to his room before they were caught. The scraping noise continued.

After a while it stopped. There was a soft
plop!
as if something soft but moderately heavy had fallen a foot or so, then there was a slight scurrying sound, almost beyond hearing.

'Jim? Jim boy?’

'Willis!’ yelped Jim. The bouncer's voice had come to him from just beyond the grille.

'Jim boy take Willis home.’

'Yes, yes! Stay there, Willis; Jim has to find a way to get Willis out.’

'Willis get out.’ The bouncer stated it positively.

'Frank,’ Jim said urgently ‘if we could just find something to use as a crowbar, I could bust that grille out of its frame. I think maybe Willis could squeeze through.’

'We've got nothing like that. We've got nothing but our knives.’

'Think, fellow, think! Is there anything in our room, anything at all?’

'Not that I know of.’ The scraping noise had resumed; Frank added, ‘What's Willis up to?’

'I guess he's trying to get the door open. We've got to find some way to open it for him. Look, I'll boost you up on my shoulders and you try to take the collar off that air duct.’

Frank looked the situation over. ‘No good. Even if we get the duct down, there'll be a grille set in the other side of the wall.’

'How do you know?’

'There always is.’

Jim shut up. Frank was certainly correct and he knew it. The scraping sound had continued, still continued. Frank dropped on one knee and put his head close to the grille. He listened.

'Take it easy,’ he advised Jim after a moment. ‘I think maybe Willis is making out all right by himself.’

'What do you mean?’

'That's a cutting sound if I ever heard one.’

'Huh? Willis can't cut through a door. Many's the time I've locked him up, back home.’

'Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he just didn't want to get out bad enough.’ The scraping sound was more distinct now.

A few minutes later a fine circular line began to show around the grille, then the portion of the door enclosed by the line fell toward them. For an instant Willis could be seen through the hole. Sticking out from his tubby body was a clawed pseudolimb eight inches long and an inch thick. ‘What's that?’ demanded Frank.

'Darned if I know. He never did anything like
that
before.’

The strange limb withdrew, disappeared inside his body, and the fur closed over the spot, leaving no sign that it had ever existed. Willis proceeded to change his shape, until he was more nearly watermelon-shaped than globular. He oozed through the hole. ‘Willis out,’ he announced proudly.

Jim snatched him up and cradled him in his arms. ‘Willis! Willis, old fellow.’

The bouncer cuddled in his arms. ‘Jim boy lost,’ he said accusingly. ‘Jim went away.’

'Yes, but not ever again, Willis stay with Jim.’

'Willis stay. Good.’

Jim rubbed his cheek against the little fellow's fur. Frank cleared his throat. ‘It might be a good idea to pop back into our hole.’

'Sure.’ The trip back to their room was made quickly and, so far as they could detect, without arousing attention. Jim dumped Willis on his bed and looked around. ‘I wonder just what I should try to take? I'll have to get hold of Smitty and get my gun.’

'Hold on,’ said Frank. ‘Don't get ahead of yourself. You don't really have to go, you know.’

'Huh?’

'I didn't hurt the outer lock; we never touched Howe's private lock. All there is to show for Willis's escape is a hole that we obviously couldn't get through—and another one like it, probably, in Howe's desk. He can't prove a thing. You can arrange to ship Willis back and we can just sit tight.’

Jim shook his head. ‘I'm leaving. Willis is just part of it. I wouldn't stay in a school run by Howe if you paid me to.’

'Why be hasty, Jim?’

'I'm not being hasty. I don't blame you for staying; in another year you can take the rocket pilot candidate exams and get out. But if you should happen to bust the exams, I'll bet you don't stick here until graduation.’

'No, I probably won't. Have you figured out how you are going to get away without Howe stopping you? You don't dare leave until daylight; it is too cold until then.’

'I'll wait until daylight and just walk out.’

'The idea,’ Frank said dryly, ‘is to get away. What you want to do is to pull a sneak. I think we had better find a way to keep you under cover until that can be arranged. The chances ought to be good after noon.’

Jim was about to ask Frank why he thought the chances would be good after noon when Willis repeated the last three words. First he repeated them in Frank's voice, then he said them again in rich, fruity accents of an older man. ‘Good afternoon!’ he intoned.

'Shut up, Willis.’

Willis said it again, ‘Good afternoon, Mark. Sit down, my boy. Always happy to see you.’

'I've heard that voice,’ said Frank, puzzlement in his tones.

'Thank you, General. How do you do, sir?’ Willis went on, now in the precise, rather precious tones of Headmaster Howe.